[Center] Here Cometh The Wolves- Jellial, the Wind [/Center] --- Jellial could hardly ignore the unrecognised figure of the small creature called ‘Pinkie.’ Jellial would have to be blind to not noticed the piercing glares the rat-man gave him: so laced with contempt and hatred and…jealousy? He tried very hard to hide the smirk at the realisation for the rat-beast’s dislike towards him. Maylene was not without her fans, it seemed. The circling round was not an uncommon tactic for dealing with tails and followers, and Jellial was a little surprised in himself for not noticing it or even expecting it. Pinkie’s act of scurrying off was more than a little disconcerting, but then again, so was his return. The stench was not one that Jellial enjoyed, and the sudden gust of wind that ever-so conveniently blew the smell of rot and sewer away from the group was a blessed welcome. When Maylene inevitably turned on him to react to the sudden use of magic, Jellial would give off only his most innocent of smiles. They eventually reached the beginnings of a new entrance to the pack’s den. Jellial was unsure of this new sewer-entrance, as his sense of smell caused an almost painful overwhelming of the nose. A vicious assault of rancid scents was enough to put Jellial off the thought of anything so romantic as time alone with Maylene. Jellial started to work on a new bit of magic, calling again, on the wind school he was named after. At the top of the tunnel’s entrance, the spell seemed to fill the air with a small bubble of wind that expanded into a sphere: Ten foot cubed and filled with the frequent scent of fresh, crisp, Tulerian air. ”You’ll have to forgive me, Pustin, I’m afraid my nose wouldn’t be able to deal with a sewer.” Jellial’s face broke into a smirk as he heard the muted mutterings of the rat-man. No doubt insults hurled at the man almost as offensive as Pinkie’s scent. The group were led into the sewer, and from the curling of Esyllt’s nose, he was glad for the bubble of wind. No doubt, she would move closer to Jellial, in a hope to escape the scent…what a shame. Filling the silence, Jellial let forth loose tendrils of telepathy that touched the borders of Maylene’s mind. He was gentle in his work, making sure not to be confused for Esyllt. [i]”I missed you, Maylene. It has been too long, and our time together is far too short and far too…crowded.”[/i] A small smile flickers over her lips as her eyes seek out the figure of Jellial in the dark. [i]"I've missed your company too, Jellial... It's been some time... But, I even if there were more time and less around, I think there is far too much going on right now to indulge in the moment."[/i] her eyes move back ahead just in time to notice a low-passage. She ducks down hand outstretched to touch the wall as guidance. [i]"It is truly a shame, though..."[/i] The silence returned for a moment longer, Esyllt broke the silence by asking Maylene a very interesting question. It was in regards to telepathy: Jellial quickly figured out that the more civilised woman amongst the beautiful pair had attempted to probe the wilder rose for information, and had promptly been rejected. Jellial cleared his throat. “I can answer that one.” Clapping his hands together, Jellial felt the joy of storytelling flow into his veins. The decisions of what details to include, to exclude, to expand upon and keep brief: such were the story-teller’s right, and such were their delight. “Maylene has a great deal of knowledge and a great many dealings with telepaths from yours truly. The two of us, Maylene and I, are closer than simple friends. In fact, Maylene is the one who turned me.” He gave Maylene a knowing smile, eluding to the ever-embarrassing details of just [i]how[/i] he was turned that he would keep secret, for now. “We spent a great deal of time together, and after enough exposure: anyone can develop an ability to resist telepathy.” His face crinkled at the rat-man’s comment about lost souls and the feasting damned. His revulsion towards the rat man had another question burn at his mind, and again, he reached for Maylene’s mind: as gently as before. [i]”What hole did the pack drag this one out of? You say he’s been with the pack for years, yet no one seemed to mention it out loud before, especially near me.” Maylene hesitates for a moment, her own gaze following the ratman and her lip curling back in revulsion. [i]"Not all of my contacts were made known to you... And he is of the... it is certainly fitting his beast form is that of a rat, should I say. Most only dealt with him and his ilk when there was no other means. Desperate times call for desperate measures, though. And when that happens, even the scum have a role to play... But he is not entirely bad. He can be sweet... Sometimes. And you get used to the smell... Sort of."[/i] Jellial smirks at Maylene’s comments. At least she felt as sourly of him as he did. His trepidation was not unfounded. [i]”You are known to bring out the sweetness in men, Maylene. It’s one of your many talents.”[/i] His tone was teasing, playful even. Her expression becomes disgusted at the idea of the ratman being sweet on her, or even considered amongst the ranks of men at all. But after a moment, she manages to smooth her expression. It was just in time as Pustin turns back and flashes her a fanged smile, and Jellial a glare full of distrust and a promise of violence were he to try anything. With nothing more to say, Jellial resigned himself to following the rat-man. He was content enough, surrounded by the bubble of clean air and taking un-subtle glances at the backside of Maylene. He had to follow her lead, after all; might as well enjoy at least one part of the setting.