"It was my fault; the hunters took me down so easily. If only I had paid a little more attention, I would have caught their scent before they got so close, or I would have heard them… But I didn’t." Blood clouds his vision again, so he leans his head back against the wall and shuts them once more. "I spent seventy years going after them and their hunter children. When there was only one remaining, I turned him. Let him live as the thing he hated so much, but it was not long before he took his own life. The hunters did not die painlessly.“
[Emotions running high and everywhere at once, Louis clenches his fists so tight that sharpened claw-tipped nails puncture the flesh of his palms.] —— He’s thankful for the sudden scent of blood, however, as it gives him something to focus on. Something that isn’t ripping something—or someone, preferably—to shreds.
"Why would I hide it [his species/hybridism]? — Those I need mask my presence around do not notice a thing… And even then, what could they do against one such as I?”
The little human is like a toy come to life and Louis wants nothing more than to play with her. So he allows a wolf to slink from the shadows and take its place beside him. Although young, she’s still fairly large; when she stands at her full height, the highest point of her back reaches close to Louis’ chest. She’s entirely devoted to Louis and well-versed in his games, especially those concerning humans. She tends to find it as fun as Louis does. "I think you may need a guide in these woods," his hand rests atop the she-wolf’s head, fingers running through her coal-colored fur, "For your shortcut has led you straight into the wolves’ den." —— How strange this picture must be to her. "Unless, of course, you would rather take your chances with her," with a nod he motions to the she-wolf, who growls lowly, as if trying to emphasize his point.
He hadn’t meant to drudge up dreadful memories of her past with his words of anger, but he won’t apologize, not when she acts as if this is his fault. It isn’t, surely – it is nothing less than the finest gift he has given her. Immortality, power, an eternal companion if only she would allow him to be. "You are either incredibly naive or incredibly daft. This is a gift, a fine one; you’d be mad not to want it.”
In over three thousand years, Louis has never seen anyone react to a threat the way she does. Instead of flinching or lashing out, she is stone-cold calm against the vice grip he has on her throat, and if Louis wasn’t so infuriated at her insinuation that she would turn him into the ones he’d spent so long hiding from [hunters], he would have stopped to praise her. She offers him but one moment of surprise and then… nothing but a smile and the showing of fangs. It only angers Louis more – does he not deserve better?
Inferiority is not something he’s accustomed to and he’d rather not look her in the eye as he admits defeat. "Was your aim just to antagonize me?" She’s vicious… he likes it.
[“I’ve never smelt anything like you before. Why might that be?”] —— “New cologne,” he answers coolly, French lilt heavy with sarcasm as he steps away from the outskirts of the roof, a few feet closer to the stranger with very specific questions. He won’t be giving her any straight answers, not until he knows her intentions, but despite how wary he is of her, he reaches his hand out in offering. Ever the gentleman, Louis is.
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