paradox enjoyed silence, but silence in deathclan meant trouble. he was unnerved, and you could tell. muscles tensed and shifted beneath his frost-hued fur with every uneasy movement, his mismatched gaze flitting from object to object - with no logical pattern at all, it seemed. at irregular, isolated intervals, his claws would slide out, indenting the cold, wet earth - darkness against darkness.

the deathclanner rose to his paws as his leader entered the clearing, a low but jerky dip of his head welcoming the she-cat back. odd eyes would flicker with surprise and suppressed, well, amusement  as vault suddenly darted backwards, as if afraid. no, he doubted vault was scared, and even if she was, there must have been good reason. 

"a little jumpy today, vault?" the royal murmured as he walked over, a trace of humour in his tone. it was then he realised the presence of the pointy-snouted rodent. the tom recoiled slightly, before his eyes narrowed. pulling his body back in preparation, he launched himself at the rat, claws sinking partially into soft, furry flesh. the rat squealed loudly, still alive. 

as vault made her way towards him, the tom glanced up. his muzzle quirked up in a slight smile at her humorous retort, the rat still writhing beneath the firm hold of his claws. "just a little," he would return in dry cheer, before replying, "alright, i will."

paradox pulled his claws out of the rat's flesh, examining the red liquid that clung to the near-black keratin. the rat gave a squeak of something that sounded like relief, but this didn't last long; roughly, the royal jabbed his claws into the back of its neck. it went limp and, heartbeats later, it was dead. 

"you wanted to talk? what about?" paradox questioned, tilting his head to one side. he raised his bloodied claws to his nose, sniffing at them with delicate distaste. no doubt the rat had been crawling with all sorts of parasites, external and internal. he hastily wiped his claws off on the earth, before offering vault a wry smile. "are you as worried about deathclan's state as i am?"

the movement made with an unnervingly rapid precision, paradox snagged the skin of the dead rat on a claw and flung it nearby - far enough that the sight wouldn't bother vault, but close enough that he would be able to dispose of it later. no doubt some foolhardy youngling will want a taste, paradox thought with a wry twist of his mouth. he almost wanted to let them. but rats could kill in more ways than one, and consumption was one of them. and right now, they needed numbers more than paradox needed amusement. 

the royal glanced up as vault began to reply, an attentive prick to his alabaster ears. "i have great faith in you," paradox stated simply. "and i certainly agree that we must be stricter when it comes to borders." his expression grew contemplative as vault continued, now telling him of her idea to increase their numbers.

"the deathclan life is a difficult one," paradox mused, his mismatched gaze shadowed with brooding. "it is not for everyone. but..." he trailed off, his voice faltering with uncertainty and laced with a slight waver. "it is a good plan. the conversion of younglings, especially. perhaps implement tests of loyalty? just to ensure they will, ah, stay true to... the cause."

interest flickered in his odd eyes at the mention of a pawn. "the clans are weaker than ever," he pointed out, a cold smile growing on his features. "perhaps soon, we will have the numbers and the strength to establish our dominance. i do like the prairies..."