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03-14-2014, 05:58 PM
OOC: Do you want to reply once more then I'll make my next reply in the Battleground as a continuation of this, for our spar? ^^
[ we are made of greed ]
[ the regime ]
His keeps his silver gaze fixed on his son, searching for any sign of his resolve wavering, of weakness. His eyes follow Farkas' gaze as it lingers on a rock at their feet, and the beast pins his ears as he lunges his neck sharply forwards. He aims to lay a firm nip on Farkas' left shoulder, a stark warning to never let his gaze drop for even a second. "Never look away from your enemy, and never look down," he scolds, tones stern. He knows enemies will seize on even the slightest hint of weakness, of slipped attention; he has won many fights in his time through capitalising on precisely that.
His brow furrows in concern as Farkas declares he cannot talk to strangers; that is mildly worrying. "Very well," he rumbles with a small snort of displeasure. He supposes it isn't entirely awful if his son does not recruit - he is sure he will find other uses for the boy. "As for when we start - there is no time like the present. Are you ready?" There is little use in idle chit-chat when he could be teaching his offspring to fight, to win - his massive frame shifts in preparation for battle, and Cynder purrs her pleasure from her perch on his broad back. |
[ we are made of greed ]
[ the regime ]
