<div class="floatleft">(https://ilarge.lisimg.com/image/11990054/934full-diego-barrueco.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Fen Ylfingr (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=303102.msg14805158#msg14805158)<br/><strong>Tagging | Mentioning:</strong>The Group<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Gaia, Unknown<br/><strong>?Wearing:</strong>This (https://i.imgur.com/U5yYYEE.jpg)<br/><strong>?Mood:</strong>Contemplative but mostly pissed<br/><hr/><br/>He is peripherally aware of everything going on around him. While at one point he might have tried to save the red-haired woman or at least introduced himself, he has far bigger concerns. His ears twitch and the conversation--such as it is--passing between others that Fell at least him convinces him they aren't a threat for now. Could they truly be in the same situation he is? If so, why? The physical ache of the fall is easy to ignore even as it heals, but the fact that once again he has been turned on by his fellows, once again he has been deemed a threat... It makes him want to howl, to rage, to tear the realms apart.<br/><br/>Instead he is here. On Gaia. Lost, but not so much alone. Words come and go while he stands, clenching and unclenching his claws. Should he, shouldn't he? It is clear Ramzi cannot be trusted. Even if, for some Elysium-forsaken reason, the rest of them were framed, banished together... The Arbiter? No. Fen will not turn his back, will not bow his head. He will not submit to death.<br/><br/>And yet, there is some sense. If he should wish to get home, perhaps The Arbiter is the one to best know how. Fen's powers are not focused on walking the planes, but one of the others... His eyes dart side to side, rapidly calculating whether it's worth it, whether they can be trusted. He doesn't like it. This whole situation smells foul.<br/><br/>'Great Wolf', The Arbiter says. He bares his teeth.<strong>"Am I supposed to be grateful for your flattery?"</strong>Prisoner, outcast... such terms mean little when spoken by one such as he.<strong>"Funny, is it not, that of all of us here <em>you</em> have the most immortal blood on your hands."</strong>A guess, but likely not a bad one considering the man's position.<strong>"Yet <em>you</em> they laud! <em>You</em> they shower with glory!"</strong>Fen grows, stalking closer and beginning to circle the man, as much for intimidation as to try to get as many of the others in view as he can. He refuses to consider the fact he might be, what, envious? Bitter? Heh, that last is certainly accurate, and the very fact just pisses him off further. Why should he care what they think? Why should it matter? To be cast out... even before, they had merely bound him. The only thing he should feel is hate.<br/><br/><strong>"And now you claim to be one of us?"</strong>Shaking his head, drool drips to the ground.<strong>"Blood may not solve anything,"</strong>He begins, crouching down and pressing into the sand and dirt.<strong>"but it will sure as fuck make me feel better!"</strong>He finishes with a shout, launching himself forward and at the man, a howl almost painfully torn from his maw echoing through the night.