As a fighter and a wolf, the male seeked something a loner's life could not bring to him. The brute had been in a pack all of his life; he had always had someone relying on him to bring home something to their benefit. He had always made decisions that affected more than himself, and been good at doing so. But now that he was a lone wolf without a packland to protect, it seemed his lust for life had diminished. Not saying the brute was unspirited any more than usual; he just didn't have the same glow to him as he usually did. A light now flickered instead of shone bravely through his soul; and the lupe felt somewhat like a husk, with all the good going to rot inside of him, for there was no raccoon to pluck him from the stalk.

Turning, now, to the west, he raised his nose, scenting the wind for the presence of another. Another, he did smell; a female in fact, though the rest was completely uncomprehendable. It seemed that he was going to just have to wait for the fae to come to him. He could be fairly certain she had by now noticed his presence; and if not, it was not her lands he would join. The male stood tall and proud, alone on the earth, and his talons dug down to the dirt as he braced himself for an assasination. His audits stood to attention; his nose sniffed wildly, and his great yellow eyes searched ceaselessly. He was prepared to meet the Alphess, as prepared as he could be.

[ooc]: in the title, the []'s represent the word "join" because, well, he's here to join. [/ooc]

As the charcoaled femme revealed herself, he couldnt help but catch his breath at her startlingly unique beauty. She attracted him, mainly because she did not seem to weaken in the presence of a male as many other femma's did. The large mascu scanned her over once, twice, and then he watched as she raised her head well above his. Her stature was graced with pride, and he decided this femme must be the alphess or a very concieted beta. The small witch had scarrage on her face, and this also appealed to the greying brute, because it told him she knew how to fight. As her vocals rang out into his ears, their strength never wavering, his thoughts were confirmed; Astraea was her name, and she was the Alphess of the Moirae pack. Interesting.

Ancestors? Possibly she had inherited the thing. This made him uncomfortable in a sense; his old pack had never allowed one to die a death so natural your son or daughter could take over your position. It was a power-hungry pack, albiet the hunters and warriors, the hitman as they were teasingly called as pups, who were created merely to serve. He was a killing instrument, graced with size and strength by nature and agility, swiftness and calculation, honed into the murderering machine he had become by his father.

But he had a kind heart if you could find it, Belial did; and so he spoke with only respect in his vocals, respect and the knowledge he was an intruder on her homeland. His voice was deep and silky, never hesitating, and it seemed to match his dark, bottomless orbs, that captured one's attention, and seemed to whisper his story, the story so devastating he was lulled into thinking it was normal.

A haunted wolf, and never to know it.

Greetings, Astraea. I am Belial Lucifer Appolyon The Third; for your sake and mine, please call me Belial. As for my business, I have come to become a part of your pack.

He cut himself off there, abruptly, and closed his maw to her. He had nothing left to say, no meaningless patter to keep the air cluttered.

Just you, me and the wind, baby.