Wiflor could sense Cyrus' tension beginning to blossom even though he was doing his best to keep himself in check.  Turning her eyes to him she'd frown some before coming closer, hugging against his side before watching Herald.  Was Cyrus being tested now?  Was Herald trying to figure out the limits of his mentality?  She wasn't liking it.<br/><br/>Every second to pass of Herald's words just made things worse and worse from what she felt in Cyrus, and feeling it only made her tense to the matter.  Her fur at some points bristling as Herald spoke on, or so until she heard Cyrus.  His words so calm, was she misjudging the situation?  Looking to him she saw he had put himself back together while aiming for his pipe  from Atticus, but what she felt in his hands told the story.  He was lying to himself, and he was lying to Herald.  But why?<br/><br/>With him seated she'd sit nearby, crossing her legs and flattening her arms over her legs to watch Herald again.  Was there a reason to lie to Herald?  Or was the lie only physically?  With a whimper she showed frustration herself in not knowing what was going on.<br/><br/>____________<br/><br/>Herald was a man who counted the coin, a thing that taught him the trade to study a man from his face to his loin, to take in the signals and learn of the fact for as a merchant of trade that was his tact.  To the end of Cyrus' words and the stream of his own, his own disapproval was a thing that was shown.  Reaching high and taking out a slip from his pocket he'd unfold what showed to be glasses, setting them on his snout before his eyes the trim design manufactured for the masses.  With that his casual stroll to the fireside lead him to take his seat, prim and proper and ever so neat.  The robe by his side, he took out another product of care, a box that glowed brilliantly the likes of which he'd dare not share.  Tapping on it's keys each pressed into the box as it were, a thing that likely wouldn't be seen elsewhere by a man of fur.<br/><br/>"I do hate being the bad guy, know that my good fellow.  But the little ones will require a proper community to train their habits less they be both self destructive and outwardly so.  I fear Wild Flower there would not be equipped for this as such things mean limiting their intake at an early age no matter how much they cry...And Wild Flower is no heartless girl I'm sure you can tell.  The chances are easily ranging in the greater nineties that she would feed them all she could.  But her mother knows this well....I would be separating you from raising your kin this is true, but they will still be with family...And it's not that you cannot see them mind you.  We just need to raise them in a specific manner that has been trialed and errored since the beginning of our days when our first life came to exist after a dimensional traveler beat off into the primordial ooze that began our existence as what we are.  And no that's not a joke...That is our origin as we discovered when we met the demigod ourselves..."<br/><br/>He felt this wasn't helping his case though he tried to put the man at ease, feeling a demon of the camp and the lowest of miserable sleaze.  With a few more punches of the keys an orb of prismatic light came to generate itself above the box, his free paw pressing in with rythme and swipes as an ever so cruel fox.<br/><br/>"Fortunately we know elves very well, from wild forest elf to elves with fae like properties.  We'll be well equipped for them so no need to question more about that...Now lets see if I can- Ah! Here we go."<br/><br/>The orb did grow and take shape before Herald, then it's colors simply died.  What stood in it's place was a monster, a devil, a demon of a man the likes of which most would be made to cry.  A helmet with eyes that blazed as a furnace, pitch black and jagged as a lord's bitter keep, tall and build like a brick wall of the castle and a blade too large that would make most weep.  One could hear it's breathing that in itself sounded of barn owls screeching into the night, the devilish armored beast turning it's eyes in such a way to pose a fright.  Zealot stands before ye, bow and pray for merciful gods to descend...<br/><br/>______________<br/><br/>Zealot's appearance was not something Wiflor would blink to.  Instead she'd act almost instantly, darting out from Cyrus towards them as a predator on the prowl, all her speed and all her strength moving forward to the cursed monster summoned by the transportation device, her arms flinging open as she collided with the legs and waistline of the nine foot eight inch tall giant of a fighter who's six foot long blade held of his back, the pressure of the collision causing a slight shockwave that sent his obsidian black cape a flutter in the air and laughter to be heard immediately after.<br/><br/>_______________<br/><br/>(Z)"BAHA!  Yes yes tis good to see you as well my darling little friend!"<br/><br/>Wretched claws of the armored man reached down under Wild Flower's arms, lifting her with relative ease after stonewalling her brute strength to raise alarms.  Bringing her up high he could hear her purr so content, taking her close after for a hug even with other's lament.  His words on the other hand were an assault to the ear, the barn owl screeching a thing he could not stop no matter how much others fear.<br/><br/>(Z)"I haven't seen you since we weaned ya off your mother, oh how the time flies, look at how grown up you are...Have you learned any language yet?  I remember the days you could fit in my palm and now you're all grown up and speaking?  Oh please say you can!"<br/><br/>(H)"Sadly no she cannot, I fear she hasn't developed in such a way.  I called you here to get you to deliver a message, it seems Wild Flower here is possibly pregnant.  I believe her mother is in your department so the kids will have to fall on her should young really come to be.  I feel it only right to pair the kin of the daughter to the mother as to keep family with family..."<br/><br/>Did not the situation get better and better?  To take the kids was one thing but to leave with a devil was a whole different address to that letter.  Though Wiflor apparently knew him well, this being of despair that looks to have come straight from hell.  But that's what cursed armor does to a man...