Fur was covered in frost from the winter air. It was early, and he had been unable to sleep the last few nights. The male was growing restless, though in what form he was unsure. He felt the need to run perhaps. Pent up full of energy and yet there was nothing to place it in. Massive head shook violently for a second as eyes narrowed towards the ground. What was this feeling? He felt the urge to...well, he wasn't sure. He contained within him, a desire he had not felt before. He couldn't go to his mother nor his father, for she was ill and he was missing. "What a fucked up world we live in." He muttered beneath his breath. Large paws wandered the lands, he had not been in these parts and he was bored seeing the same terrain and wolves of his pack. Perhaps outside it, something would happen. Not only that, but he wanted to get away from the sickness and the bawling cries of the sick. It was horrible, day in and day out they whined about their pain. He would find himself having walked into a cavern, damp and cold inside. Even his breath came out in clouds of crystallized vapor it seemed. He would venture inside, wondering if there was anything of interest within. Would he find someone? Something? The place seemed very empty, scents stale and the only thing he could even smell to begin with was the cold air. Massive form ventured deeper into the caverns, his body begging for something of which he knew not. It frustrated him, causing him to feel irritated and yet, not. What the hell was going on? He would only wonder...perhaps he would find out later, however purposeful or accidental. "Speech"

	And what is the phantom deity without her favored ( and temporary ) haunt? She moves with unadulterated elegance, a beacon of great vigor with a set determination to conquer all obstacles within her path--and it shows within her immaculate and practiced poise. Refined and breathtaking is the pallid and robust exterior, a perfect portrayal of authority with a hint of militaristic diligence; and yet, gleaming beneath a cryptic gaze of mismatched violet and silver is the evident maleficence of her existence--an innate tendency for chaos. She is the epitome of fury--a harbinger of terror to those deemed worthy of her merciless wrath--and unfortunately, she is not lack of a target for assault. His aroma is repulsive--stagnant within the premises of the cavern she had confined herself to throughout the duration of a relentless search for her lost kin, and she is far too eager to allow for the opportunity to pass. Serpentine is the physique of the wraith as she glides towards the epicenter of his pungent scent, footfalls concealed with care as she attempts to approach his behemoth form soundlessly, and yet she realizes that her own scent is intensified with her heat and that her attempts at obscurity are nearly futile. But she cares so little--her malicious presence is not warranted within the narrow walls of the cave so that she might spread her legs like a common harlot, but so that she might provoke the beast to obtain the vengeance she so sought. "My, how the tables have turned," the paladin drawled thoughtfully as she halted dangerously close to his gargantuan figure, unabashed by the possibility of physical conflict. A smirk tugs at her frayed lips--purposefully wry as she attempts to dig beneath his skin to inject just a hint of poisonous intent within his veins. "Now it is you who is unwelcome within the home of this bitch; did you miss me so?" She knows he will remember her--he will remember how foolish he was to insult her when she had only hoped to save her kin.

First a scent, and then a voice. Familiar and yet he had not really cared to remember it, until she sidled up to him. Daring to get as close to the gargantuan as she possibly could. The boy would turn, nostrils flaring as icy gaze caught the visage of the pallid wraith, and then it would be familiar. She was the one that had trespassed on Arcanum lands, the hostile witch that had intruded upon them when Novocaine was wracked with the mysterious illness. Her voice would reach him, causing him only to scoff and raise a brow at her feeble attempt at dominating the field. Sure he was inexperienced, but even so he wouldn't back down. Her feeble attempt at infuriating would be wasted, for even though he was pissed off and frustrated, he would not show that upon his own features. His form stood tall, unwavering as his gaze locked on her. He was not afraid. Fear was for the weak, fear was for cowards...and he was neither. "Is that so? I don't see a pack lying at your feet. As far as I know, this place is an unlimited stretch of land to wander." He would merely chuckle then at her last question. Did she think so highly of herself all the time? My, what a diva. "And it seems the other way around...you're the one approaching me, I could give less of a fuck of those who bear no importance to me." Words would slip between his teeth in a neutral tone, unwavering. He didn't need his mother or anyone else to look after him. He was a cold boy now, blocking out the world that strove to hurt him. This girl would be the same, he was sure. She had nothing good to offer, why waste his time? He bore no ill will towards anyone, but should she decide to act upon mere hostility over past idiocies, then he would retaliate in the same manner. There was no point in trying to fix the already damaged. He knew, because there was no fixing him. "Speech"