As the sun began to set, casting a warm, celestial glow across the island, Sephiran had just traversed down the gutted valley that led into the heart of the dormant volcano. The warmth of the volcanic ash engaged his tactile senses, and the scent of sulfur infiltrated his nose and caused it to wrinkle. The lake, resonating heat - a welcoming contrast to the frigid, fall air - was starting to sparkle beneath the twilight sky; the silhouettes of trees from the pine forest up above, outlined against the fading light. The occasional chirping of crickets, and the occasional bubbling of a hot spot beneath the lake’s surface, cut through the silence of the pit. It was an ethereal scene, no doubt.

In truth, Sephiran didn’t visit the island too often; most of his affairs were carried out in The Polar Sound. But he’d noticed Absinth had been spending more time here, having claimed one of the beach-side dens for herself. A vacation home, perhaps. And where Absinth went, Aresenn tended to follow, and Sephiran had business with the crimson male. He’d recently claimed the rank of Emir, and Sephiran needed to follow up it.

Approaching the entrance to the hidden alcoves, Sephiran comes to a sudden halt; his neck extending out, nostrils quivering as he inhales the scents within. Somewhere in the labyrinth of passageways, Aresenn is lurking. And so, the Sultan releases a series of deep, guttural sounds, the vocalizations meant to summon the male to him.

"Sephiran Saxe"

The rumbling nature of a familiar voice echoed through the labyrinth of passageways and caught Aresenn's attention. His ears pricked in the direction of the sound, his hard gaze fixated on the shadowy entrance to his den. The call was unmistakable and one he had been expecting. Sighing away the essence of sleep, Aresenn slowly rose from his resting place, the soft sand shifting beneath his weight. He took a moment to shake off the lethargy, working out the kinks in his joints with a stretch. Every fiber of his being protested against this disturbance; he had been engrossed in his own thoughts, tangled within the confines of his mind as he contemplated where they had come from- where they were going. He painstakingly organized them back into their intricate compartments, assuring himself he could pick up where he left off later.

As he neared the Sultan, he maintained an impassive demeanor, concealing any hint of disruption caused by this untimely summons. His mind fell back to its incessant habit of analyzing the situation, mulling over each possible scenario that could unfold. Aresenn's gaze was firmly set on the Saxe brute  - his friend. His Sultan. It still was an odd word to say. But as he found himself entering a more conversational distance with Sephiran, all musings ceased. He kept his gaze level, his steps steady. Aresenn was not one for pleasantries, and as such, he didn't bother with the expected greeting. Instead, nodding curtly at the Sultan, he leaned back on his haunches and waited for Sephiran to speak.

"Aresenn Praetor"

As Aresenn emerged from the depths of the catacomb, Sephiran regarded him with a look of anticipation. Hues of amber locked with those of emerald and amethyst, the Sultan’s posture shifting imperceptibly, as he rolled his shoulders forward and continued to exude an aura of dominance. “Aresenn,” He’d begin, watching as the male reclined into a seated position, readying himself for whatever Sephiran had to say. Time seemed to slow, each moment stretched with the tension of anticipation. It was as if Aresenn was bracing himself for the unknown, steeling his resolve for the encounter about to unfold. One could never be too careful, given Sephiran’s impulsivity and grandiosity.  

“My crowned Emir,” The smirk that cracked this expression was akin to a serpent basking in the warmth of its own malice- a silent proclamation of the sinister satisfaction welling inside of his chest. “What will your first task be?” There was a spark of anticipation shining in Sephiran’s gaze, as he truly wanted to know what Aresenn’s first goal of Emir would be. Perhaps organizing a raid? Training their warriors? Investigating their next domain to control? Questions, questions, questions. And so many possibilities.


"Sephiran Saxe"

Aresenn sat rigidly under Sephiran's gaze, his own bore into the Sultan with an icy intensity. He was not surprised by the question, but he took a moment to formulate his response anyway. An arrogant smile carved its way onto his visage as he contemplated his answer, his mind racing through the endless assortment of possibilities.

"My first task?" Aresenn echoed, letting the words hang in the air for a beat. The silence seemed to amplify their weight, and he reveled in it, letting his gaze flicker over the Sultan's expectant expression. "I intend to help solidify our defenses." His reply was curt, straying from the potential grandiosity of the role he now held. But he was a strategist at heart and perhaps a bit of a cynic; he knew the importance of an ironclad defense. He continued, "These brutes that follow you- they have their individual strengths, yes, but they need … refining as a unit.” Aresenn explained, carefully watching Sephiran’s expression for his reaction. After a moment's pause, Aresenn continued. "What is your input?" Did Sephiran have anything in mind for him?

"Aresenn Praetor"

The smile that contorted Aresenn’s face was noted by the Sultan, his unwavering devotion and eagerness to fulfill his duty palpable in the space between them. Of course, this pleased Sephiran - the satisfaction of seeing his ploys come to fruition was nearly orgasmic. His features twisted in delight, amusement evident in every line and contour of his face- a testament to the thrill he found in the depths of his depravity.

Solidify their defenses, refining their warriors as a unit. Sephiran nodded in agreement, anticipating a need for carnage in the upcoming seasons. And when Aresenn asked for his input, Sephiran released a deep, rumbling baritone. It was a sign of contemplation, as he raked through his mind and formulated his answer. “The Raiders.” He says, holding eye contact with Aresenn - looking for a reaction in the male, at the mention of his previous home. “Do you believe they will stand against us?” A simple question really- based on his interaction with the group, and Aresenn’s experience with them. The Raiders seemed more similar to The Syndicate than the other existing packs. But that didn’t mean they would see Sephiran and his brood as allies. Those who stir fear in others, tend to be hated. He wanted Aresenn’s honest thoughts on the matter.

"Sephiran Saxe"

Aresenn’s amber gaze never wavered even as the mention of his previous home hung in the air. The weight of it didn't escape him, but neither did it shatter his cold demeanour, his face remaining impassive. The Raiders. He wondered if they had actually become something under Gil and Modesty’s rule. Under the right leadership, he thought that perhaps their strength and audacity similar to that of the Syndicate's own forces. His connection with them was a tenuous one at best, a harsh memory from a life he had left behind. Perhaps it would be in order for him to pay a visit. To see for himself what they had become.

“They're fighters," he admitted grudgingly, his tone flat as he regarded Sephiran with calculating eyes. “The group that I left wouldn’t stand a chance. However, I left at the time of a change in leadership. I do not know what they have evolved into.” The Praetor brute answered, honestly. He had always respected the Sultan for his ability to manipulate others, but he had also grown wary of his cunning nature since their first encounter.

"I suppose it would be prudent to find out," Aresenn suggested, rolling his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug as if the whole thing was of little importance. Inside though, his mind was already whirling with plans and strategies, foreseeing possible outcomes and preparing countermeasures should they turn hostile. At the very least, he wouldn’t underestimate Raider’s Hollow.

"Aresenn Praetor"

Nodding, Sephiran acknowledges Aresenn’s opinion. Last he knew, Sparrow was still the Pirate King and ruled over the raiders. But since Aresenn’s departure, a shift in leadership occurred- and with it, the dynamics of the pack. It would be beneficial to gather information, and at the very least, establish a stance between the kingdoms. A political mission was more of Rhazien’s forte, but given Aresenn was from the raiders, Sephiran made a different decision. “Are you offering?" He questions, with an air of expectation. At the very least, he seemed interested in the developments of his former pack, and he had family there. If he wanted to initiate a scouting mission, Sephiran would allow it.

"Sephiran Saxe"

The Praetor brute offered a slow nod in agreement, "Perhaps," each syllable drawing out as they rolled off his tonuge. His gaze never left Sephiran's, communicating his commitment to the cause. Aresenn had often found himself crossing paths with his past, but this would be the first time he sought it out purposefully. But of course, if that’s what Sephiran wanted of him, that’s what he would go do. “If you think that’s our best bet,” Aresenn continue, his voice steady and firm, with an underlying current of resolve. As to what he would be going to see, he wasn’t entirely sure. “Should I go at it alone? Or take someone else along?” How did Sephiran want this to look? Like he was visiting his birth pack? Or did he want Rhazien to go for soemthing more formal? Or did he want to avoid contact all together and just merely observe?

"Aresenn Praetor"

Aresenn was prepared to take matters into his own paws, declaring accordance and asking if he should go alone. Sephiran is silent for several moments, mulling the question over, analyzing each option and their potential outcomes. Truly, this was more of a Rhazien thing… but Sephiran wasn’t going to waste the opportunity to command his Emir. “Decide if they are worthy of raiding.” He says, wanting a scouting mission first and foremost. “And if they are, decipher their dynamics.” Who the alphas were, how many of his family still resided in the pack, how fortified their defenses were, their resources, and more. Whatever information Aresenn could collect, Sephiran would be pleased. "You may go alone, or perhaps, take an underling with you." He says, answering his question.

"Sephiran Saxe"