He would have laughed at her attempt to cut him down, but instead her stopped his slow gait, tilting a head to her slowly, purposefully. Her fear was impressive, but boring, and the wolf could have moaned in desolation at such unfavorable company. The way she skittered and fled away from him, turning to stare at him feverishly with the same instinctual fear crawling around those magenta eyes was all too expected, but the sigh on the cusp of falling out into the air remains still in his chest, and only Comadre soaring above hears it. To deal with her, it seemed, would be very tiring to say the least.

Yet, the more the wolf thought about it, the more he had to admit that she was correct. Oblivion had been mad, had he not? There was the crazed look in his eyes as he stood in the cold waters of Isilme, bleeding out of every god forsaken pore and still having the dignity to speak of war, to speak of victory. He was callous, manipulative, but he was a brilliant machine when put into action, the pale white skull leading his way through unfriendly waters and toward his goals. The great wolf, while more naturally terrifying without need of adornments, was the opposite. He shifted away from the light of glory, did not seek out his passions, fell into the shadows of others and was driven... like a dog. Was that not what Oblivion's underlings had been called? Dogs? Never was there a more fitting being than Osiris to hold such a name.

A gruff, serious look dwells on her face for moments. "I spent far too long fulfilling the wishes of the mad," he says, quite matter-of-factly and without shame. If she had expected him to bow so easily to her, she had been wrong and, frankly, stupid. The way she had cowered from an peaceful, yet mouthy, approach was obviously stupid. Even as the girl gives up in a huff, pushing herself forward from the position she had taken, nearly sitting on her ass in surprise and fear of a creature who would sooner profess his love than take to injuring the innocent, he becomes aware this meeting is futile. She hated him, already, without knowing much about the mysterious hybrid other than the fact that he was ugly.

You're not ugly, Osiris, Comadre says even as he comes to land on the wolf's shoulder, head snaking around in a toothy grin. A laugh is stopped short as Osiris gleefully looks at his bonded, his voice muttering quietly so that the bitch in the forest wouldn't hear. "What would a reptile know of beauty?" Still, the beast leaves a serrated smile for his bonded as well, fully aware that the pair is being heavily judged by a pair of pink eyes. Her words spring forth next, and with a tired sigh, the hybrid turns his head back to her.

"An arrogant wretch like you is the one with a sour disposition," he says quite frankly, before beginning to walk forward again, paws sloshing in the mud as he moves. "You were only in my path, and I thought I should comment on your precarious habit to speak to yourself." Moving past her quite easily, almost quietly, were it not for the repugnant sound of mud being squished under his feet. Glancing over his shoulder, in time with Comadre, Osiris gives her a sarcastic smile. "Others would try to manipulate a loon instead of warning them to keep their mouths shut."
""