Eugene
"I see no reason to live your life as if it was war, regardless of position. A life as a lord is bittersweet with more opportunities to make it sweet than one might assume. It's no wonder you don't see yourself as *Charming*." Oceal experiences while being with his own family allowed him to see the worst and also the best, while he never wishes to go back, he also would never forget his roots; he understands the life he lives was something most people could never reach.

Oceal has yet to travel deeper into the city since he has no necessity to do so, most of his job offering were in nearby taverns that were in the outskirts of the town to less drive attention to himself... At least that was before he was hired by the ambassador. So seeing so many beastkin in one place was something that was almost unnerving, however what really made him the most uncomfortable was the high class district he was heading into. Guess he should be expecting more of this lifestyle now that he's apart of an entire operation. 
He followed only a few steps behind, feeling the exterior of each building them pass by until he reaches Ashnard's quarters. Where he walks in with little hesitation, secured inside and before he knew it. The once curious look he held quickly faded as he examined every new feature. He might not know the landwalkers habits but even he is aware of what is considered normal when it come to physical body.

However to assume people held no secrets would be asking for too much, he took a hold of the wine a took a long sip as if he's trying to use the wine as a way to process everything, "Yes, I was born into nobility if that's the answer you're looking for. A noble title that I despised the more I grew, and a title I lost a while go", He gulped down the rest and placed the empty glass on the table, giving a long sigh before answered the Lord's question. "I don't crave to have anything back... To be frank, I'm still trying to find what to fight for. Better than to hope for a stray arrow." 

"Is your whole... Disguise something you only hold in public? Or do you just show anyone that has entered your home."
Miguel
"Life is always a war," The hound Lord refuted bluntly. "Not all wars are fought with spears or blades either; some are fought with quills and veiled words, and won with deceit. Those who would convince themselves of being at peace grow complacent, easy targets ripe to use... Or dispose of," He added, giving Oceal a dark look. "Nobles are particularly susceptible to that. Comfort and privilege can be useful tools, yes, but for those noble who would overindulge, they are no better than *Poison.*"

He moved past Oceal, carrying his glass alongside him before seating himself in an armchair next to the hearth. A flick of his tail invited the shark wordlessly to join him on another similar seat across him. Ashnard removed one leather glove and placed his paw over the dried firewood. Lines of scarlet runes revealed themselves, traced upon the fur of his hand as though grafted by sorcery. Warmth coursed through his blood and willed outward through his palm, until the pile of woods one by one were set ablaze. The hound promptly withdrew his arm once the fire was set, and at a glance, one could see that part of his hand was malformed; with stygian, crimson-tipped claws and charred fur before putting his glove back on.

"Those who share my affliction are often terrified by the fire. Some will even avoid sunlight in fear of its warmth burning them. Fear can be eluded or denied... Or it can be confronted, and eventually, wielded."
He took a measured swig of his glass, taking the moment to savour as the liquor burned its way down. 
"I can tell parting from your former life was not a wholly pleasant ordeal. It is as difficult as one might think to find a cause above the surface; dying for a cause is the easy part. But *Living* For a cause? That is the real challenge. And I have no intention of hiding behind my men and let them die for me."

Ashnard ground his teeth as he looked intently at the shark, trying to gauge his reaction from body language alone. Admittedly, it was proving a challenge thanks to the relatively alien nature of deep-sea tretons. 
"My disguise spares me from undesired attention in public. I only show my true form to those I wish to trust... Or the ones I am about to kill. So which one will it be for you, Oceal?"
Eugene
The shark shook his head lightly, perhaps his spoiled life tainting his views in life but yet he explains, "Life is more complex than that, It is a struggle for sure and in most days... A contradiction." His own dark eyes locked onto each individual feature of the canine in front of him, from the runes on its arms to the sharp claws that he got nothing more than a glimpse of, he continues, "... Struggle is '*To strive for something in spite of resistance*' or something like that. Some struggles are inherited. It is your inheritance and your life choices that make it your personal struggle."

He let out a deep breath, sheepishly looking out at a closed window before adding on to Ashnard's perspective "In hindsight, its a slow war that always holds one factor, you. And in order to move forward... Another *Struggle*."
"No, I was no fan of my loss in my billet but it was my choice and I'm living it's result... Which is being here. I just prefer a different perspective, where life is more than struggle and contradiction. I look for beauty in everything, even land... Even if it's temporary."

Oceal then took a seat right across from Ashnard, one is at a constant fight while the other looks for the best regardless of situation. 

"I enjoy being able to commune with someone that's first instinct isn't to jump me or assume I'm food. I also hold no intentions to harm you in any way, Lord Ashnard." He didn't feel the pressure of a threat present but his heart raced and his breathing only because of his response. With his finger, he traced the gold that perfectly surrounded the crystalline right on his collarbone, "Right here, It's right on my windpipe. Breaking this would have me suffocating in seconds." The attire was practically made for it, like the gold around the crystal was a target signalling that the crystal was a bullseye. "I leave myself vulnerable a lot, I don't know why either... '*The stay arrow*' maybe. Even know that I want to make a difference into the land... This mission might be it."

He then intently stared at Ashnard, "*Perhaps I just like playing with fire.*"
Miguel
"Struggle, conflict, war; one can call them what he will. In the end, all of them are the same side of a coin. A man either fights in life, or he doesn't. A man chooses between motion and change, or he chooses stagnation. A man chooses to *Live*, or merely pretend to," The hound lord retorted, baring a sharp gaze.
"Such is the Old Way that was once sacred to my people. Alas, many seem to have forgotten. Silnarians and Mentians led them astray, offering false titles and amenities. Many were tempted; they chose fleeting comfort over hardship. They will be reminded of their folly... Or they will fall in their ignorance, by my hand."

A gust of wind outdoors blew past, knocking the wooden shutters of Ashnard's only room window shut. With no more sunlight coming through and the hearth flickering, the hound Lord's visage changed; darkened, melding into the shadow until telling him apart from the darkness was a challenge in itself.
"I would not jump to conclusions that quickly if I were you, at least when it comes to one's instincts. There is another part to my affliction, you see..."

In a flick of motion, silent as a shadow and completely unseen, Oceal can feel the hound's claws tracing between his crystalline, close enough where one pluck could end him. Ashnard's crimson gaze weighed on him, unblinking and assessing. 
"And so, here we are. You know my worst bane, and I know yours." A snort escaped him, with a hint of mirth.
"You had better armour yourself before we depart. Don't want anyone plucking your crystal thinking it's a precious stone, do we?"

The canine tilted his head curiously as his fingers traced past Oceal's crystalline, upwards on his clavicle and soldiers until they reached the side of his neck. Underneath rough scales, the shark's blood could be felt pumping intensely to his touch. 
"This is a dangerous game we'll be playing. There is no certainty in war, all of us will be dancing with death at every turn, and yet... Nothing will ever make a man feel more *Alive*.."
Ashnard smiled in the dark, baring his fangs. 
"But I meant I said. I do want you to lay down your life for me... Only your *Blood*."