He's been here for a little while lurking in the corners of the lands like a rat on a ship. He doesn't trust anyone despite Andreea and Morrigan's words. Hell, he barely trusts her but he's convinced she doesn't want to kill him: yet. Oh, that hauntingly morbid voice whispers like a serpent in the quiet of the night. Run, run, run. as if the boogeymen that haunt him would appear out of thin air. It's made him volatile, almost unapproachable, and he knows he's likely scared some of the more pure-hearted youth. They don't even know what's really out there. he thinks scathingly. What he would give to live with family in this kind of environment again instead of closing his eyes and seeing them being taken down like weak pillars. He doesn't know the next steps in his plan except to get bigger, stronger, and better. He's not a victim and he refuses to act like one. Still, it doesn't mean he's ever going to want to be around people in the capacity that would require him to care if something happens to them. No, that sounded too risky for his shaky mental health. Frowning to himself, he lurks in the shadows knowing at some point someone is going to find him and bother him if Morrigan doesn't sniff him out and drag him back to 'society' yet again. He was sure she was doing it just to piss him off to add to his frustration while she trained him. Evil wench

@Nazdravan was not alone in his turmoil. Deiaskaya, too, was not ignorant of the evils in the world, though perhaps not so steeped in blood as her pale counterpart. She had bore witness as a fresh-eyed cub to the fall of her father. Had watched as her mother, sick and melancholy, ripped herself from her children's lives and left Zoticus a single father to four wild cubs. Wild, angry cubs. The Hollow had been wrenched from her just as swiftly and brutally as the Bluffs, and undoubtedly the dark cloud that hung around their small and broken family would tear asunder the seemingly-stable halls of the Cove as well.

All Deiaskaya had ever wanted was what she'd been promised: To be a princess again.

Unfortunately, her father's ambitions had fallen short of her needs, consumed in revenge against a single man and not in restoring his own position of power, and Deia was left to plunder in the scraps she'd been left behind. Her obsession grew, driven by her frustrations and her ambitions, and age had done nothing but hone such machinations. Was it not her birthright, her divine right to command the strong, to drive out the weak? She laid eyes upon him as he lurked through the shadows, the annoyed expression on his face tempting Deia closer. The other cubs of this place were boisterous and friendly, but this pale stranger seemed far unlike them.

Deia prowled behind him, aided only by her size, for both her fiery pelt and loud and uncoordinated pawsteps did little else to hide her.

I t wasn't the first time he had been followed since he had come here by someone too curious to mind their own business. He was no God, no man with eyes behind his head, but hypervigilance presented itself in unnatural ways. As if awaiting anyone to come across him Nazdravan painstakingly made sure he knew every single inch of his surroundings, listened hard to make sure no one was going to come up behind him and try to finish the job they had failed. He felt her eyes on him though he didn't turn around right away. He had stiffened the minute he felt the tail, eyes narrowing, but when the steps didn't quicken and the movements continued to fumble with a lack of adept skill, he decided to pull their strings by luring them deeper into the cove. Whoever it was, he didn't want to risk someone else joining in on whatever they aimed to do. When he was satisfied by the distance he froze, turning his head slowly to look over his shoulder. Even as she tried to hide the fire of her pelt did her no favors -- much akin to his pale one. His expression blanked, mouth pulling in a slight frown as his slitted eyes peered at the silhouette attempting to hide in what little cover was provided. "Why do you follow me?" he asks coolly. Before he was even keen to let her speak, he let out an order, sharp as a new blade. "Leave me. " he commands with finality, his former princely ego curling around the demand with a strength he did not truly feel at the moment.