Memnoch snorted at the mage's request, and promptly ignored her, she should have other matters to attend to other than where his feet were located. The air around them seemed tense, a hint of danger seemed to be spreading throughout the room, he could see that the exact mage that he ignored was the only other one in the room who seemed to sense it.

Change, turmoil, everything with the color of blood was in the air. Since he had been mortal he had always had an odd sense for when something momentous and memorable was going to occur, and it hadn't changed with his transformation to immortality.

He could feel the blood to be spilt tonight, the air itself already screamed with it. Memnochs blood pumped faster, his eyes dialated, but his face remained serene. The only thing that bothered Memnoch was also the feel of betrayal, that something, someone in the very room where he sat, was bearing a deep secret that could be the end of more than one. To have to fight another is one thing, but to fight what is supposed to be your own, those who supposedly on your side, that is a whole different matter, and it bothered Memnoch.

During the whirling thoughts, his outside facade remained serene, cold, disinterested, but yet watchful.

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