[Hope you don't mind my jumping in here? ^-^]

Nothingness. A penetrating sense of nihility. Your eyes are void, monster, and that cannot be changed.

It was unknown precisely when “monster”, as a means of identity, had arose from the broken shards of his thoughts. He was no such specimen of cruelty, no bloodthirsty creature of monstrosity, but perhaps in the end of it all did he serve one? It was no matter. If he was aiding a true monster on their path to successes, then at least he was accomplishing something. In a way, it was oddly satisfying, so vastly different from what at one point in time he could have potentially labeled his normality. Who would have thought that he would have wound up here? What would wolves from his homelands, his family, think if to witness him target the neck of an innocent bystander because they had simply said the wrong word in front of his malicious master? He mused, a sinister opinion really, that whatever they could possibly say on the matter was of no such relevance to him any more. For they had betrayed him, discarded him, banished him from his title and from his home under the influence of false accusations. To say he didn’t care was an understatement. He had bid them farewell plentiful a moon ago, and as of this point onward he was destined for new things, horrid things surely, but as he continued to say: Something was better than nothing at all.

He witnessed her falter, her breathless animosity towards whatever thought dare strike her as a plague, and thus able to consume her wholesomely, terribly, and make her crumble beneath the pressures of what could not reach her here. The warrior did not pause in his travels, his steps did not even waver, for he had grown accustomed to living in the shadow of hardship, of burden, and as a result of such it was not difficult for him to watch it unfold upon the face of another. Everyone served their own brand of demons, some darker than others, and though he knew not the extent to which hers could potentially excel his own, he couldn’t bother to busy himself with the task of contemplating it in all of its profound uselessness. He brushed passed the female’s side, seeming as though he had yet to even acknowledge her presence, acknowledge her despair, and when it seemed like he had every intention of continuing upon his merry way absent of so much as a glance, a friendly nod, he pivoted on his elegant heels and faced her, body folding beneath him into a neat seat. There was a moment spent in an eternal silence, dark gold eyes zeroed in upon her form, skimming her features, analyzing her, and prying her apart into a variety of calculable pieces. His gaze was blank, hollow even, and as a result of such a clear depiction of the lack of sentiment that coursed through his veins or fueled whatever initiative he dare to exhibit. He could watch her crumble in the wake of her own vicious mind and, that was it, that was when he became a monster. He was a beast that did not care, could not care, though he looked upon her genuinely regardless. “I will not interrogate you of your hardship, or ask that you speak your mind in any way should you choose that you wish not to.” A past was a filthy collection of ones every detail, every aspect, and every escape. If he, by happenstance, stood in her position, the last thing that he would want was for a stranger to approach him and prod him to voice aloud his worst memories, and because of such logic ever present to weigh heavily in his thoughts, he would not make her speak against her will unless she truly wished to do so. Perhaps he was simply being polite, but however one desired to pinpoint it, he was doing nothing more and nothing less than offering an escape from the male, her fellow warrior, that bare witness to her downfalls.

“I seek nothing from you.” Passive, was his curt response, yet read upon her skin he did. Surely enough there was a broad assembly of scars littering her delicate frame, and though a small portion of him was curious of their origin, it was not enough so that he was pushed forth to inquire. He could not imagine being forced through a life of such hostility, such violence, and a for a moment, just one, he considered himself lucky that his conflicts had been set at a minimum. Although what had occurred in his own history, masked behind his hollow eyes, was not necessarily absent of cruelty, he supposed it was of a lesser degree, seeing as his own thoroughly muscled body did not indicate having survived a variety of fights as hers did. The warrior prompted himself to his paws, silently accepting her invitation to observe in deeper detail. It was true that he sought no such things from her - it was not a past filled with recollections of misery and conflict that he wanted her to relive, or that he wanted to explore - but he, of all wolves, was not the type that would simply turn down an opportunity for heightening his own intellect when such was presented. Quick strides, fluent and purposeful, granted him with the ability to walk a tightly bound circle around the she-wolf, dark gold eyes unwavering from the individual scars that he saw, examining them to the fullest of his desire until he was once again positioned at her front.

Here was where he no longer moved, facing her in such a manner that his muzzle was equivalent with her own, tilting his downward slightly so that he may peer into her eyes without further establishment of their height difference. He held this position for only a few short seconds, albeit feeling as though nothing short from an eternity, before he took a few steps back as to no longer interfere with the comfort zone she very well held dear. He did not necessarily possess the need for space, the craving for a certain degree of isolation at all times, and as a result of such it often slipped his mind that not every wolf mirrored this attribute of his. From their new proximity of one another, it seemed as though a wave of cold stone consumed him, locking his limbs in place so that he was completely unmoving save for the small flecks of fur that danced upon the wind. He was apt at accustoming himself to what appeared as though a semblance of utmost fragility. There was nothing problematic about being required to sink into the shadows, or fade into the background, because he was already generally known for being a permanent bystander, a watchful observer, and therefore of no particular importance to the glowing spotlight.

Once again, his wandering eyes found themselves traveling up the length of her slender body, halting when they reached the scar along her shoulder blade that was of the greatest visibility. “However, I will not deny you of the clear catastrophe that inscribes itself within your skin.” Pulling his gaze away, the warrior instead focused upon the tips of her paws as he lowered his head into a formal bow, peering up into her eyes from his disinclined elevation in order to properly introduce himself, a proposition he presumed long overdue. “Pardon my lacking of introductions. My name is Irrationality, a warrior of these lands that you tread.”

Silacea.

At long last he was able to put a name to her face, the exchange of familiarities complete, and in the wake of silence he arose from his bow, returning his body to its former height. A small part of him was curious about her, wishing to pry apart the generalities that would reveal themselves, and perhaps even the more secretive elements that refrained from lingering in the ethereal green of her eyes. However, it remained as so that he was not one to overstep a boundary that had yet to even be created, but she on the other hand seemed as though personal space was of no such arising issue, and as a result of such his prior backstep had not been a necessity. He observed her throughout the entirety of her approach, his dark eyes blank and his body void of the reaction that she sought to receive. In their new found proximity of one another, the warrior was forced to subtly implant his jaw at an angle if to properly meet the she-wolf’s eyes, and in doing so he concurred that, although her intentions were not as painfully clear as he desired, there was something about the array of sudden seduction that she attempted to perform that he found himself second-guessing immediately.

If she was playing games, she would come to terms with the fact that the win she so desired would not be easily accomplished, especially when the one she was dealing with was of no such believer in petty things like love. Although he held no personal hardship in regards to the emotion itself, he considered it as nothing above or below a weakness, something that would teeter with your strength, make you seethe at the seams at the mere idea of your beloved growing harmed, and through holding such connections with another you were furthermore entitled to possessing a point of fracture. Of course, it did not seem as though she meant such things through her actions, and therefore he felt no such guilt at the idea of remaining firm within his seat. They had, after all, only just met and such forwardness would be most unfitting.

“Then perhaps it is here that you should not be.” His gaze was unwavering, his multicoloured body completely stilled to the bone, countering her charmed statement with the ease of simplistically flicking an ear. It was difficult to get a rise from someone that was about as emotionless as a robot, someone that did not reveal what lingered on the inside, and someone that could undoubtedly play her games just as well as she could. Nothing was disguised via their closeness: he could hear her heartbeat in her chest, he could scan the captivating depths of her eyes all the more clearly, and he could come to an exact term with every single flaw and/or perfection throughout her slender body. He did not consider their proximity a chance for affections, but instead a new means of calculation, and a precious one at that. “I suppose that not all can be as accustomed to the cold as myself.”

Trepidation hung in the farthest regions of her eyes as she stepped away, but a mere glisten of her anxiety, drowning within the clutches of her own sheer confusion what traces of hostilities, of a self afflicted battle, wished not to reside where it was that he could glance. But, alas, he was one to pry at the slightest flaw that dare arise from someone’s otherwise collected demeanour, and such allowed him to perceive the acidic reminiscence burning away at her thoughts, catching itself in the heart of her throat, staining the purity of her eyes and throwing them into an abysmal darkness before it was gone, as though a flash of white light, a ghost’s melancholic haunting, and therefore something that he could only see when she wanted it to be seen, as he wholeheartedly assumed that she did not. But it remained as so that if it was truly what she desired, then it was of no real importance to him, because it was too late for it to somehow be unseen, or to randomly go unnoticed, and such fueled within him the relentless initiative to push forth upon the path of enlightenment. There was a part of him that believed, even when pitted against his better judgement, that she wished to discuss what it was that clouded her vision and threatened to poison her mind, and so in the moment that she decided to step away from him, he had decided to step toward her.

She had already done her part to diminish with their barriers, and it would take far more than a mere backward step to recreate them from the flaming shards that had been newly assembled at the base of their paws. There was something unforgiving inscribed beneath the glassiness of his eyes, peering upon her slender form with an eerie ease, utterly void of the capability to dismiss the newfound intrigue that she had reincarnated from naught. Her shield was powerful, surely a force to be tampered with carefully, though it remained as so that he was more than willing, if not wholesomely eager, to attempt and weave his way through its apparent cracks if she dare to stay paralyzed in her positioning and allow him to do as he may with his proceedings. “Wounds can heal over time.” His voice rumbled forth from large jaws, poised in the tone of a mere whisper, tilting his muzzle to the ground to establish a firm gaze upon the reddened scrape that arched relentlessly across her paw. “However, those that reside in the miserable clutches of your own mind will not heal, cannot heal, if you refrain from granting them the surface they so desire.” Golden eyes averted away from her wound, performing a slow travel, a delicate travel, up the length of her body before resting peacefully in the vivid green of her wary gaze to analyze how his words, genuine as they were, affected her peace of mind, lest it remain.

There was no definition for the fixation of his eyes, for it was truly ominous of him, notably bewildering if not inexorably breath-taking, and therefore he was no stranger to how it could make someone feel, make their skin burning hot, and make their body cringe at the arising signs of suspicion. The aptness of his stare, the information that it permitted him to yield - it was all outstandingly brilliant. Nobody could bring themselves to understand how detailed his analysis was, or at least not until he provided them with a glimpse of what it was he could come to know as he did in this very moment with his interesting companion, countering her secrecy with the forwardness of a statement that made it clear precisely how powerful his eyes were. “Allow them to surface, and do so through telling me why it is that you cannot bring yourself to properly breathe.” For breathing keeps this bittersweet life from crumbling at the seams, and you shall not crumble be it that I stand here at your side.

She was an experiment?

It was a troubling situation to ponder, seemingly unrealistic, though despite its oddity he would not go out of his way to question it. Surely she had faced numerous deaths and countless scenarios of sheer malevolence throughout her journeys, even throughout her adolescence, a time period in which one was meant to be at their most pure and carefree. A sickening part of the multicoloured warrior’s mind was intrigued by such a tale, labeling it as of the greatest interest to the gears of his brain that were constantly in motion, processing through various means of information so that he may forever broaden his knowledge capacity. Despite his efforts, there was no portion of him that felt genuinely sympathetic for her. The ghosts of past haunted her, certainly, but he was firm with the belief that it was one’s origin that ultimately shaped them. Of course, experiences and various traumas and impacts could do their part to slowly alter the exterior of a creature, but no matter what, it always returned to where it was that one originally came from. Although her past, on its own, held a considerably chilling theme of horror, there remained the same blank look in his eyes, and the same dispassionate expression glued to his jaw as stare at her he did.

“I’m sure this is incredibly hard for you to relive.” Monotone, mechanical, without any true laces of sorrow, though undoubtedly he was trying his best. It was difficult for someone that did not entirely understand the concept of misery, the idea of being tortured through simply looking into one’s past, to attempt to relate. It was so completely lost upon him: The melancholic look in her eyes, the difficulty breathing, and the pure sadness. Perhaps it’d be easier if he could just bring himself to care on a more personal level, to find common ground with her when to deal with something as foreign to him as feelings. He liked to think that it could be possible, but his logical side fret diligently at the thought, knowing better than to lose itself to the grips of false hope. Even if he wished, even if he attempted to peer so clearly, so vividly, into her pretty green eyes there was nothing save for the hollow thud of nihility in the place where his heart was meant to be.

The warrior walked another tight circle around the she-wolf’s body, however this time his purpose was not that of deepening his calculations, but instead so that he may resurface at her flank, guiding her back towards their camp with the slight stroke of his tail against her side. “Come now, Silacea.” His voice was that of a soothing gesture, a calming hand outstretched to clasp her own and lead her away from their pack’s limitless territories. “Accompany me back to our home, if you’d please. A night’s rest shall serve you well.”

[End thread? c: I have school tomorrow, and I also work, so I probably won’t have enough time to organize a post for our new thread. But if you have any ideas for what you’d like to happen next for them, feel free to start another if you have the time and I will post in it as soon as I have the chance!]