He had followed his brother's scent here, with scarce idea the true intentions of his joining; regardless, Kvare was a loyal twin, and did not desire to quite separate from him yet. He'd set out early in the morning, just as the sun crept along the horizon and set alight the dunes in a blissful golden glow. He lingered along the borders, daring not to cross them, but every so often a paw would slip onto the line. Kozrain had only a day or two on him here, but Kvare had made it a point to roll about in the sands to attempt to gather what little he could of the Cove's scent. Almost boyishly delighted by the idea of such a ruse (lest Kozrain were to make an appearance at the border as well), Kvare continues his blissful promenade across the beach.

Never had he considered living here. The way sand swept between his toes and tickled the sensitive skin irritated him, and the ceaseless sound of waves crashing against the shore drowned out his thoughts, where others may find it a blissful constant. Salt was heavy in the air, and as it carried upon the warm spring winds with loose sands, it was difficult to shield his eyes from it. There was, however, a certain beauty about this place; the way the sun reflected off the rolling ways, the way the cliffsides loomed overhead, dotted with dens and caves shared by many. Kvare seemed as if he were on patrol, content to take in the territory under the guise of his twin, a purposeful promenade almost natural.

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He doesn't smell of the cove — but of course he doesn't. He's new.

She doesn't even question the complexity of the stench of rogue that still clings to the brute's pelt as she draws near. He had yet to spent enough time within their borders to pick up the salty stink that was familiar to their pride. Even his gait is familiar — a lone figure trotting along the border, at ease with his surroundings. After all, Diantha had promised him a tour, had she not?

Ears twitch as Ludivine draws ever closer to @Kvare, announcing herself with a small huff — though she normally would be content to be a denizen of the night, it would do her no good to sneak up on someone of her pride... Well, unless they deserved it, of course.

“You blend in well with the night,” she muses to him thoughtfully as she draws close, an amused twitch of her lips as curious eyes dance across his body. He really was a gorgeous specimen, wasn't he? “Where's your... Friend?” she questions him with a lilt in her voice, curious as to what reaction it might spark in him. They'd made it pretty obvious there was something more between the two of them than mere friendship, and Ludivine...

Ludivine wouldn't mind testing that, just a bit.

A bitterness fell in with the realization that an intruder had not found its way into Caladan.

He had entertained his own dreams of thrill and slaughter, appeased his bloodlust with the visceral sensation of anticipation; the chaos Amara alluded to, fretting their peaceful drove. Alas, as he crept the shadows of the dunes, the darkness yielded the likeness of Kozrain only (his scent dismissively odd) and Ludivine between, always a timely thing.

Gauthier grinned to approach, finding the cover of low growing coastal greenery down the path of a dune, though paused to listen to her voice fill the space between the distant roar of waves. You blend well with the night, she lulls, the sound of it crawling his skin in tremors, heat, finding his fangs clenched to watch her saunter closer to the man, to watch her eyes rove up and down his physique.

A curious feeling, not hunger or adrenalized wonder, so certainly - rage. As all the feral creature knew, dragon-hearted and fire-veined, his tail curled at his heels as he waited. Temper stilled though his skin flushed with the fever, his breath curling in monstrous trails up the sharp angles of his square features. The moonlight pulled harshly over the slope of his skull, pooled in the icy rim of his piercing stare.

Gargoylean malevolence tempered into a passive, but solemn, expression. He could not explain his fury to watch the display of wanton play, the faerie-taunt of her voice, dread in the pyre-light of her eyes - incensed! To dance about him. Him.

Meat.

He clicked his teeth as his only greeting, jaw setting firmly, not finding a place for any word that crawled up his throat hot and misplaced, certainly not in the way for him to answer an already poised question. Kozrain was an ally, after all. And @Ludivine was only being... friendly. Why entertain the spite cavorting around his core, dancing up and down his spine, plucking the strings of his senses. What did he care for her pleasant conversation?

@Kvare_{BG — ART — CODE}

Nightfall encroached well into the coming evening. The sun dipped below the horizon, golden hour drawing to a blissful conclusion as stars begin to peak from beneath the remaining light. Kvare had been content to scope the territory, to ruminate the ideas of living in such a sandy and salty place. Its population seems small, for now, but it also seemed new; the borders could not have been older than a few months, and it was difficult to envision a man who could raise an army from nothing in that short of time. What, then, drew Kozrain to this place? Kvare'd had an inkling of his desires, some precious ally a far more appealing present than biding their time, waiting to claim something of their own. What more, it had to be this place, where the ground was unstable and the sea roared with thunderous resolve. Loud, ceaseless.

You blend in well with the night.

She had announced her presence, but he turned to face her only when she spoke. Half-narrowed eyes regarded her, attempting to catch the deep rosy gaze of her own as she looked him over. Were he not playing under cover, he might have given her a far better show. Not well enough, apparently, he responded, one side of his dark mouth twitching up into a toothy half-smirk. She had found him, after all. A few strands of dark mane fell into his face as he turned his head forward, closing what little distance there was between them; from here, he could see the plush fur of her nape, the plume of her chest that rose and fell with each refined breath, fur half-curled by the salty air.

Where's your... Friend?

Ah, Kvare considered silently, thoughtfully, The one that brought Kozrain to heel? He would have much preferred if it were the woman in front of him. The slight lilt in her tone, the deadly grace with which her throat seemed to move. Damn. Not here, he replied, lifting a lionish brow, lowering his voice, But you are. And Gods you are...divine.

He is distracted from her only by the agitated teeth clicking of the King. Steely gaze turned toward @Gauthier standing not far in the distance, and though his boyish fraternizing seemed to shirk, his half-smirk still remained. Though he says nothing, vexation seeming to roll off of him in waves. My apologies, he says, his gaze flitting back to @Ludivine, I allowed my patrol to be...interrupted. And he would let it happen again. And again and again and again.

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Gauthier watched the exchange with a restrained (and incomprehensible) mangle of visceral wrath unspooling like the writhe of snakes in his core. Why? There is no name for it, no reason for it, so he does his best to smother the flame of that elusive grate by which we, reader, know all too well as jealousy. His eyes flicked from Ludivine to Kozrain, speculative and silent, too wilded by confusion to be accusatory, but uncompromising all the same.

My apologies, the dark gentleman sighs, and Gauthier's gaze trails the half-smirk and its toothy assertion, drags its ware over his every flit of expression. I allowed my patrol to be... interrupted. When he looks to Ludivine there is a heat that rushes to the Heathen's every fiber, the biding foresight of lunging forward, of cutting his teeth on the man's bones, of tearing him asunder. Why?

He pulled a long dredge of cool night air, tasting its soft fringes of salt and sweetness, regarding @Kvare Kozrain down the barrel of an un-safetied malice. Surely he would not romance Ludivine, when he had after all expressed such fawning adoration for Diantha?

Continue then, if there is nothing to report. he replied stonily, letting his gaze fall back over Ludivine with a curious wait, something crawling the depths of that crimson center. Even as she would turn to the dark his eyes would follow, the snide grin and curve of spine and rhythm of hips. There isn't anything to report, is there? The cold cast of his leer swept back to Kozrain, and he feigned even the smallest curl of a grin.

But even that is cold._{BG — ART — CODE}

Ever-meddling in your brother's affairs, aren't you, Kvare?

He would have to apologize to Kozrain later for causing such a stir, but what fun was there when a man pursued the fancies of only one woman, let his ambitions be fettered by the whims of another? Kvare always delighted in wrenches being thrown into carefully-curated plans, and enjoyed the fray of the chaotic fallout that always followed. Thus, he was content to continue playing his little game, delighted by the idea of slipping under the @Gauthier's nose just long enough to get better knowledge of his pride, of the way he governed these lands.

By the tense and terse look of him, however, Kvare delighted at the idea that he and this man were one in the same. That he was just as possessive, just as powerful, just as keen for glory.

His words are laced with caution, an unspoken warning in the language of men Kvare immediately understands. So, he regards thoughtfully, his lionish brows knitting, Ludivine is off-limits. It only made her more desirable. But the boy had little intention of picking fights with Kings so soon in his re-arrival. His eyes narrowed, slightly, following the half-curled trail of a grin he wasn't sure was truly there or not. Gazelle tracks in the northwest, he reported, suddenly stiff, staunch. He would not so eagerly stoke the King's fire. Strictly business then. Coming into the territory.

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Militant, objective, Gauthier's squared form made no effort to loosen even in the absence of Ludivine; his watch steady, his gaze chilled by a note of endless winter. The tread of his lips are tight over the knead of fangs as he raised the broad scape of his skull, its terrace fettered by shadows pooling in the hard lines drawn. Gazelle tracks in the northwest, Kozrain replied. Instinctive, his eyes darted for that quarter, as if he would see their horns pop over a thistle-crested tangle of brush. There is only wind and sand and salt.

It was not unheard of. His stomach made a silent probe at an idea, an exploration, while it pulled still in that direction of Ludivine. Or was it lungs? He drew a deep breath to stretch his chest, unsure what exactly the sensation had been, a vertebrae between his shoulders crackling contentedly. Lungs, certainly. But hunger is owed a finer fare, and the heat it stokes at the curiosity of a simple meal sprawls lazily.

Gauthier turned off to the west with a sigh of acceptance. Worth a look. Much appreciated, do find me if anything else develops. No less of a growl, no less cold, he dismissed @Kvare to his duties, much as they could be made.

So long as it was not ogling Ludivine, of course.

exit._{BG — ART — CODE}

Long after Ludivine had departed, the tension remained. Kvare's eyes never left the King, half-narrowed and curious of his reactions, his every pause, every breath. And yet, their roles here were delightfully reversed; Kvare did not wear the crown, no matter how much he stared at its glittering golden gleam. The tenseness between them did not part even after Gauthier accepted his story, and as the King silently turned and began to meander away, Kvare lowered his head as he passed. Of course, he replied, the tone of his voice barely rising above the sound of the waves in the far-off distance.

Success felt bittersweet. It was reasonable to assume he'd easily be mistaken for his brother, but eventually the truth would come out, and it was difficult to gauge what Gauthier's reaction may be as a result. Would he be delighted that two cunning warriors managed to trick him? Would he see them as more valuable than troublesome? Or was he certain for punishment, from a man slighted at being fooled, and further vexed by Kvare's meddling with Ludivine?

He lingered where he was for a few more moments, before he began to slip deeper into the territory, intent on finding his brother.

Exit Kvare.

Art by AleTie, table by cala