Know the man, know the mask; Ajatar

[Longclaw]

Don't be afraid when the night wolves cry,
feast on their bones, suck the marrow dry.

A snake slithers through the flat, long grasses of his humid kingdom - perhaps the first that has ever swam the divide and found refuge on the island of fire and flame. The term Longclaw recalls while watching her sounds like Invasive Species but looks more like Apex Predator, and if he were granted the invisibility his ghost-girl possessed with such alarming charm he might use it for less honourable pastimes. Better that his fanged counterpart should have it, then.

“@[Ajatar].” He calls out, easing forward from the point of rest with a brisk trot so that their reunion might not be delayed. The shifter had kept his proverbial loose-cannon always somewhere near the edge of his thoughts, just far enough that she might drift without causing concern, but his curiosity and habit cannot be so easily broken. Fixated as he’s become, Longclaw understands that her continued presence is due to her interest alone. Nothing more.

How badly he wishes it could be different! “How are you taking to the island?” He breathes heavily, each hoof coming to rest with fluid finality alongside her own. Aligned rather picturesquely the two soak up hazy sunlight and for once, he’s glad to not have the irritation of winter to otherwise mar his sleek hide. She won’t be deceived by common pleasantries though, nor does he want her to believe his sole purpose in seeking her out has simply been to chat. There’s an air of excitement that tenses his shoulders, brightens his already entrancing eyes.

But for now he’s content to begin with this.

Longclaw