Traitor? (OPEN)

[.Rabid Lycan.]

Truth be told… he was right. She was getting “a little tense”… or, rather, very tense. Though she continued to choke out her sarcastic comments even as they were grinding her into an early grave (or, considering what she’d lived through thus far, a long overdue grave). She bit her lip, staring up at the male, and waiting to see if he would strike again. For now, he had stopped taking snaps at her, but one didn’t need intuition to tell that his patience wouldn’t hold for long.
“Erm… you just…” She opted to speak the truth this time. “…remind me of someone…”
Attempting to shove the more painful images out of her mind, she shifted a little, eyeing him as he delivered his resume. Hurm… that’s sort of… badass. “Nice to meet you then, Zorro. Been a real pleasure.” His weight shifted as he spoke, and she groaned softly underneath him. “…but… err… I’m serious. Though you said you didn’t care, I’m Sanceul the Gypsy. And about the whole ‘magia’ deal, I was serious. Or, well… sure, it’s mostly stunts and tricks—but I can make you a protection charm, perhaps a love spell? Hey, after all this quality time we’ve been spending, I’ve been curious to see if… well… you seem to have the makings of a fire-starter, is all. Ever heard of them?”
At this point, she was talking like a used car salesmen, though her voice got a tad more serious at the end. …oi, if anyone can summon fire, this hellfiend sure can…
“It’s quite handy if you’re born with the gift!”

[H.ell . Fi.re.|†A.lba]

fuego, ehh? He muttered, searching her face now for some emotion that would make him not want to rip her pretty little face off. He snarled softly, his eyes narrowing just the slightest more. What would I need with fire, hmm? Can you tell me that, princesa? I am but a simple wolf, and I don't need any of your shit.
Cool it, Hellfire. She's gonna make you snap, and you know that's bad. He snapped toward her again, but gave her just enough room to squirm beneath him. He was a sick mother fucker, or something because he got pleasure from others squirming with discomfort, or pain.
How about you tell me something that's worth my time? Because so far, you've pitched me a bunch of bullshit! With the last word he lunged again, and a vicious snarl spat from his maw, and echoed through the surrounding woods.

She's a dead wolf.
Your times up, princesa. These last words were spoken with a husky tone, and he lunged forward once more, only this time it was clear he wasn't gonna stop. Unless she came up with something worth his while, she was a dead dog.
Good night, querida. Sleep tight!
So, what's it gonna be?

[.Rabid Lycan.]

“What, you expected something else? I’m offering to set your enemies on fire, man—no hellfire attached!”
As hyper as her claims continued to be, the scissor motion of jaws seizing the air beside her dragged her mind to a darker place. Slowly, the nervous smirk was dissolving into a glassy, distant expression, and even his threats seemed to sound more muffled than usual. Of all times, now was the time to be serious—to say something of substance, but with Hellfire’s lunging and dominance over the situation, her mind was far-gone.
“…so, for you, I can burn and blind enemies… climb trees… provide mercenary assassins… catch… catch…”
It was a tall black male, she was pinned—like a broken record, so familiar. How many times has this happened before…
Morgan took her down, fangs at the side of her throat, and shoved her onto her back.
“An eye for an eye, was it not?” He glared down at her, the twin scars over his eyes seeming more grotesque than ever now that the giver of the wounds was within reach. “Or how about a throat for a throat?”
“I’d take care of you…”
Then, of course, he lunged.
“Lucifer, stop! With Morgan… I can’t—I’m barren!” she hissed. Sanceul sunk lower into the ground, eyes shut, hoping to appease Luci—wait.

(( way to have a PTSD moment when you’re about to be eaten, Sanceul. FAIL ))

[H.ell . Fi.re.|†A.lba]

(AWESOME! Got it on my phone! I rock) Hellfire was slightly baffled as she seemed to slowly slip away from the danger she was in. He watched as she sank further into the grass. He ceased his snapping for a moment, and stared down at the motionless fae. Princesa? You don't look too well. Perhaps I should take you captive, ehh? He didn't waste a moment to lower his crown, and grip the scruff of her neck, not all that gently either, might I add. A muffled chuckle escaped his vocals as he turned around, before glancing down at her once more. He didn't know if she would be worth anything to the Blood Mist, but he did have a right, right? His signature smirk was seen curving the corners of his maw up, into a sick, demented grin. (Sorry its so short...I'm on my phone, lol.)