Perhaps fate smiled in the fae one’s favour - or perhaps another entity if the appearance of one of its envoys meant anything.

Susurrus padded up silently to the beacon, eying it with something passing curiosity before he neared ever closer to those slowly gathering here - to the point that he soon spotted the pink dragon from the raid and had to repress an annoyed grimace.

Of course then he spotted Aine and immediately his current trajectory changed, turning as he moved to stand beside her in quiet support - having recognised the signs of a no doubt incoming panic attack, as once he had for his cohort, he would provide a silent company to help, his back to the red stone.

He could have brought his other halves, but well, the territory did need as many protectors as it could - and Susurrus was far from being defenceless on his own - so he merely stared across at the pink dragon, daring her to try anything with the small fleshweaver.

like a cold wind blown, Jack was fond if traveling; it brought him closer to the memories of his siblings. A soft hush of wind and the fresh scent of autumn, if life's slow decay only made Jack nostalgic. Beyond the cold aching bones that fluttered like static in his joints hushed in the quiet: a scene. The scent of anxiety and the familiar scent of the pitt. Aine was there his little sister and Delilah, there was a hush of undergrowth, a cold wind as Jack slotted himself in front of the dragon he faced not long ago in a raid.

"long time no see, pinkette" Jack's coy tone was absolutely frigid. The rucksack along his him cold, did Jack freeze it on accident? It didn't matter- he kept his eye towards the tanglewood. The small Tom's tail aiming to curl along one of aines legs: a protective geasture.

"I think it would be wise we remain... Neutral for now, lest you want to loose."

/Mobile chbshx
Protection square is fORMING

Kian Ó Faoláin

All your dead end fury is not enough

Jack were known for having a showman’s attitude, a trickster’s attitude towards those he would consider friendly. It was very rare that the kodkod would allow himself to be angry, as ever- maybe not fully controlling his emotions- but well enough so to hide them, cover his initial reactions most and that to which they always entailed. He felt protective towards his clan: the place that had taken him in, he was a part of the pitt as the pitt was his. his home, and his people, to guard, defend, protect. It was a selfish endeavor, but who said selfish had to be so wrong? Had to be looked upon with such negativity? It was the benefit of the both of them: the marauder had always been selfish, and as the seasons passed and the cycle of them trailed the earth did Jack learn how to hide it cleverly, hide it well and hide it deep.

Spotting Aine and the small form she made; in comparison towards the large wyvern that jack had faced in battle; in raid without provocation: that burned a great terrible fire that filled most of his clan with fear made the season want to snarl: to invoke the great terrible tundra under his skin that rattled his bones and scream- that they were unwelcome here, disturbing his people and his investments: it was a revelation on both parts that the kodkod had given the creature- Delilah, not only a reason but a target to point that fury towards, Jack stood resolute against the sensation, the feeling that threatened to take him to his knees.

in fear ? fury ?

Most were ignored in the sight the revelation Delilah made. Delilah’s figure cut an intimidating shape and Jack’s own was so small in comparison. Jack enjoyed the thrill of the idea: bringing her down: it was the reason he had faced her in the raid, but now it was stark in his mind as he stared her down: tenubris thoughts tunneling until the clear call of his own name cut through the tension.

Jack’s form was a pillar, in such a facing: without fear a lie through omission; mayhaps against anything and anyone who stood to take from him what he saw as his greedy and cunning enough to keep it, or so he liked to boast when he were younger. If he were born with anything other than the fragile form of a kodkod a mask in more ways than one: Jack had to admire the irony it would’ve been a fox for merely that.

The pillar of his form stood: resolute, even at the crumbling of realizations, and at the visage of his brother Jack felt is foundations crumble. The frigid chill of his spine rattled and hissed at the invitation of his weakness, control slipping on the bottle tight tense of his emotional failures and powers alike. He released it with a breath: tail moving from where he had stood In front of Aine before Delilah and now retreated towards the Stonehenge of glimmering ruby: the pitt’s presence there had dimmed the stone- the light that everyone saw: and as Salem spoke of neutrality, Jack felt his own grin return to him.

“I couldn’t agree more, l- Salem”