the shadow proves the sunshine - longclaw

[Longclaw]

LONGCLAW

-I close my eyes, ignore the smoke-

Ah, but it’s their differences that make them so compatible to begin with. In fact, it’s the first thing Claw’s sickly heart searches for when his intense gaze alights on some new prey or another. The parts that would normally deflect all sense of comradery are the ones he picks out, appraises, and manipulates to suit his needs. Major differences between two creatures are nothing if brushed off and made to seem small.

But he’s not here to sway Warrick’s trust, (that skill is reserved for prettier, feminine creatures with a certain absence of something between their legs) he’s here to listen and so, as they meander, Longclaw does just that. Once settled and pacing easily alongside him, Warrick is soon to drift again into silence and Claw does nothing to prompt him for information. Let the Overseer and his thoughts be settled first; Claw has plenty of time on his hands and he’d rather hear the essence of whatever it is rolling around in that heavy head than a jumbled coupling of phrases and open-ended questions.

What eventually spills free is disconcerting to the colorful guard. “He mourns the loss of what? A few brave souls?” The warg thinks, shaking a curtained neck when the words ‘take advantage of Tephra’ are free to sour the atmosphere.

The leggy Tephran stops abruptly in his tracks.

“Warrick, Overseer, My King,” He says, drawing the length of his curved neck upright so that he might face his winged companion with steely resolve. “Hear me. Not only do I accept, but I swear that soon your worries will be like so much ash drifting through the air. You fear the loss of power that these people once held - I know; but soon the might in your arm will be like stone and you, the fist, need only to point in the direction of the blow.”

His speech finished, Longclaw draws the dark hooves beneath his body backwards over the wet sand, leaving trails in their wake as he chooses to distance himself briefly from Tephra’s leader. It’s for good reason - his nose thrusts into the air and his eyes alight in sudden bursts of eerie, pale flame. With a measured inhale, the arab cross gathers what power he can and summons forth a spire that rockets itself like a jabbing spear into the dark, moonless night above them.

His breathing laboured, Claw tilts an ink-stained chin back down to earth and gazes fiercely at his commander behind curtains of liquid fire. “A new order begins where the old died away. There’s much work to be done.” The demon rasps, a clap of noise above them signaling that his flame-spear has broken apart. The sky rains glittering tendrils of sparks, tiny embers of light that flicker away and come to rest on their shoulders as smudges of soot.

The shifter’s mouth purses, and then he blows the dirt clean from his shoulders with the flick of his head.

@[Warrick] He'll happily take up position as the Commander, but of course you can keep him as a soldier too