11-17-2018, 02:13 PM
| The dark hound watches the black stallion, but he does no show his attention to care so easily. He is more curious the way the black stallion looks at him. A frown of question flickers through the stallion’s features, enquiring exactly something he cannot quite point out just yet. Perhaps this was the first time the stallion has ever seen someone like him. A creature of the darkness, from hell itself. It was not common to see such a beast. The hound has only ever known himself to be one that roams freely across Beqanna. At one time he had met a pack of hellhounds, but they were commanded by the dark-god Carnage. Servants to the darkness, chained against their own free-will. But he was not. He was his own master. The silence continues to fill the air between them, but he does not fall from it. His stance is firmly held, echoing his strength within his form, but also initiating that the stallion is within his land. A leader does not fall away so easily, not when he is the shadow king of this forest. In the corner of his eye, he catches the movement of shadows. A curious smile breaks his stoic expression; however, his new expression barely raises his lip up fully though. He will not deny his curiosity to the stranger. There was more though, something deeper than the eye could see with the dark stallion. The shadows then turn and twist, into companions. Sinner licks his lips with silent distaste. Servants to the darkness, they were. Which only meant one or two things now with this stranger, he decided. Hell has finally come to reclaim him back into the underworld, or this dark stallion was something different. But he does not press his chances to find out just yet. His question has been finally answered. “Niklas,” he tastes the name. It’s almost as if he should know it. The familiarity it should ring within him, to strike fear and servanthood. But it doesn’t resonate with him. He is no longer a servant to them, but a master of his own. Always. The hound watches the way the shadows twist and turn. Answering the call of the dark-wielder. His claws dig deeper into the snow beneath his paws. “But you are something. The question is what are you exactly.” His tone is light when he speaks, but he does not leave his gaze from the other when he looks up from his shadows. |
| angels banished from heaven have no choice but to become devils |
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Most likely always in his hellhound form