The woods gave a rather sentient feeling to him as he walked along the grounds. White tipped tail flicking behind him, his orange eyes would make contact with the tree's. He wondered if they were the same as him, living but not living. His chest would move, but he would gain no desire to eat, nor drink. Only the signs of a dry mouth and a stomach growl to tell him when he needed to eat or drink. Ubivat would sometimes do it just to seem normal at times as well. Even without a heart, and no sense of feeling, he craved something out of the second life he had been given. The gods probably laughed at him, took pity on him. The one who had fallen into a forbidden love, and then that love had been crushed into a little over millions of pieces. Shattered like glass, and yet here he stood after she tore his heart out. Ubivat no longer wanted to love, he simply wanted to live again. So distant from everything, he envied those who were alive. Speech,

Silence. It was what he knew, what he had learned to know. After he lost Silveris, the only source of light within his family, he became broken. Then he too left, and he would wander the land in search of this sister, the one most like he was. He had truthfully lost all of his joy. The male moved with a sullen look, ears lowered, as well as his tail, as he marched on. What was his purpose now? Why was it, that by some strange will of Castiel, that he lived on? 'Oh Castiel, please, give me some sort of light... some sign...' The male would think, lifting his bi-colored gaze towards the heavens. The angel was one that Buill truly believed in, even when he was lost... somehow he always found some way to keep going, even when his faith wavered in the divine being.

A sigh would pass Buill's lips as he looked up, seeing a beast, some creature with him among the trees. The other had not yet seen him, but Buill would turn towards the male, falling in step quietly behind him at a small distance. Ears would perk up slightly, interested in the way this male seemed to move. Something about it was different. Off... Just as he was. It made Buill wish to learn about this stranger, and perhaps take into consideration his ways. Maybe... maybe meeting this wolf was the plan Castiel had in mind for him. This male, he was convinced now, was some sort of divine sign. Perhaps a delusion, but when one had no future set in place, no path of light, what other type of things could they expect?

Eir have mercy on his soul as he lifted his head to look at the man who approached. Ubivat was not a man of many words, his main language being that Russian in nature, english felt funny against his tongue. At least with Skadi was the only one he had felt comfortable speaking it with a lot. Though the huge albino was now gone, and he was left begging for the gods to give him his heart back. Orange eyes would gleam, with no emotion left inside of them. Was this a meeting of the gods? He wondered, the viking would lower his head but pull his ears forward in a weird body language as to say he was curious and not a thread. Stepping forward, he smelt the living one for a moment and circled him once. Sitting down in front of him now, his muscles would tighten feeling funny underneath his skin as he could not feel most things. "Speak, living one." he would say. Buill had been looking at him beforehand, had he not? So that must meant he wished for something. Let it be interaction or otherwise, but Ubivat would never really understand. He had a empty cavity in his chest, no tears to cry, no emotions to burn out unless the gods were to save him. His hope was that he would one day make it to Valhalla. Not just the pack, the real, eden of the gods. Speech,

The male would notice him, and Biull would slow to a stop, gazing upon the other with what might have been a mixture of uncertainty, curiosity, and, perhaps, a bit of a pleading gaze. Let this wolf be a blessing of Castiel, he prayed. Let this male in some way give him some light, no matter how small. A spark. Some reason to keep on... or to remain here in these lands.

...and yet, though he yearned for some sort of salvation... Biull would take a step back, ears tilting back some. That doubt at the back of his mind that doubt, that always present doubt in his mind creeping upon him. He wanted to turn, to run. To hide. But no... something willed him to stay. Something made the broken male remain standing, looking upon the other he bore golden orbs, as if the sun had been caught within them.

His words would come as a bit of a shock to Biull, and the male would take a step back, a look of slight alarm coming to his face. He spoke as if he was dead... did that mean he was an angel? Or... or worse, was it a devil he dared to follow? A bloody demon who would steal his very soul and rip the flesh from his bones?

He would swallow, unsure of what to do. The demon told him to speak, but he had not spoken in months. Did he even have a voice any longer? Maw would open, attempting to form words, but instead the only noise to come out was an odd squeaking noise. The attempt of a failed word. Oh Castiel what was he supposed to do now?

This one, was silent, he did not speak words. He attempted so but seemed afraid of the dead very much so. Ubivat did not blame him, who would not be afraid of a demon nor an angel. Just a servant of the norse gods whom he wished would give him another chance and another heart. His orange eyes would widen slightly, as he stepped forward a little closer. But not enough to invade his personal space. Breathing in and out, it was a very odd feeling, odd feeling indeed. Ubivat would lower his ears against his head and lower his head as well watching him carefully. "Do you.... understand English?" he would ask. On the hope maybe he just didn't understand english and spoke something else just as he did. The chances were low though and he didn't mind if it were true that this living one simply was mute. He would not blame him for in this world. Ever so disconnected from the rest, Ubivat would rather be silent than anything else. After all he was dead. Speech,

The creature would continue to look upon him, his gaze not leaving. He would even step closer, but not so close to invade Buill's own space. The bi-colored eyes of the male would not leave this other one, this shadow beast as it watched him. Look away from the beast and it would kill you. When you were dead there was no coming back. The brown male felt the uncertainty rising, the fear that edged toward him. This male... this darkness... was this the real test Castiel set before him? Was the divine angel doing this to see if he was deemed worthy to live or not?

It would speak again, this demon, asking him if he understood English. The male would nod, once more trying to force the words. It came out another squeaking noise, a cough, and then, sound. "Yes..." The word was very quiet, the voice cracking from how long it had gone unused. The male would seem surprised at the sound of his own voice, eyes widening.

"Have... tal... long... ime..." The words weren't fully forming, air filling the spaces where the words were half formed. He hoped the quiet, broken speech was enough. Though what did a demon have need of a conversation for? Stand up to your fear... the darkness... Something inside would whisper. So he wouldn't run, but keep his gaze locked on that of the other male's, as if his life depended on it. In Buill's mind, it did.

Buill would speak, and it would sadden the male. Of course he never cared much for the living, but he simply did not wish for them to be afraid of him. He would rather himself be afraid of him. Though his survival was crucial, it was not as if he was in no danger did he wish for others to seek destruction among themselves. In fact, he was apathetic, but something told him in his brain even if he was dead that the world of the living was not to be wasted. Ubivat's ears would press against his skull, lowering his head, and catching himself closer to the male. "Живой человек боится, о Odin заставить его увидеть я ни ангел или демон. Возможно, волк ищет возмездия, как Он есть."(The living one is afraid, oh odin make him see I neither an angel or demon. Perhaps a wolf seeking retribution just as he is.) the russian would flow off his tongue easily. As he kept forward. Quietly staring at him. "You don't need to speak... not if you don't want to. These dead ears won't do much for listening. My eyes do better than my ears do." he would say. Hoping it would give him a sense of comfortability. Then he would sit, ever so closer, but still trying to keep a fair distance until Buill was ready to approach him if anything at all. Speech,

Watching this demon, seeing him act, Biull couldn?t help but feel that, perhaps, he had misjudged him. The other seemed... Almost a bit saddened by his actions, that he was afraid. He spoke a language that was unfamiliar to Biull, but by how he spoke the male could only assume all the more that he did not wish for him to be afraid. Perhaps speaking to some god or guardian, just as he sought the comfort and protect of the angel Castiel. The other kept forward, eyes focused on his form, while bi-colored eyes of sky and leaves kept their gaze upon him. He would give a small nod as he spoke, saying that he did not need to speak. It was not that he did not want to, but simply that his voice was not used to being used. Biull felt relieved all the same that the other said he did not need to, and by his words the male would get another theory about this stranger. That he was not a demon... Yet not like him either. He had, in his journey, heard a tale while sneaking past a pack of wolves that sometimes wolves did not move to the next world when they passed... But were caught in the world of the living as the dead, unseen and unheard. Yet this wolf seemed alive... Yet spoke of being dead. Perhaps he was trapped, unable to find rest. Feeling a bit more comforted by this thought than his original one, the male would move a bit closer, though he still felt unsure. He would offer a small smile, giving a small nod. ?Thank you...? The words came out soft, but they were still something that he felt needed to be spoken. The male would sit, placing his paw on his chest. ?Biull...? He wanted the other to know his name... And... He felt the need to know of the other as well. He would reach out, gently tapping the other?s paw and tilting his head to the side, eyes questioning. He only hoped the other could understand the meaning. Walk "Talk" Think