The island had seemed like a good place to stop; a diverse ecosystem, abundant game. Nothing on the island had offered any real sport, but such matters could be left for other times. As much as Shiv enjoyed a good hunt, he had come to the small island expecting nothing so excited. The northerner had already resolved to wait out the day with his pack when an alien scent caught his attention. Standing, he turned his nose to the source of the foreign presence.
It wasn't long before Shiv was walking from the iced, snow-caked forest and out onto the open field. He could see the man waiting, could tell who he was by memory. Though the excitement of not knowing your foe or their capabilities made for a more entertaining hunt, there were certain names you simply couldn't go without knowing, especially in a station like the Shichibukai. Iken Namikaze was one of them.
The berserker in white chose to say nothing, his glacial blue eyes fixed on the infamous pirate. Shiv's own white coat stirred in the wind, but it seemed almost as if a gentler breeze flowed about the feral northerner than the Emperor. Rather than flap chaotically, the bottom seam of his coat slowly, fluidly fluttered, as if made from living mist. The warlord made a fist with his left hand, raising it first to hover before his chest before swinging it straight out to the side.
"Is strange luck to see emperor here, da?" inquired Shiv, a note of genuine curiosity to his deep bass, rumbling tone. "Is not much to do here."
Lowering his hands into a more natural position, the towering northerner kept the notorious leader of the Steel Village fixed with his unfaltering, ice-blue gaze. His tail lowered, becoming motionless, as he watched the other man. Fighting for supremacy was his one and only goal, and before him was an opponent whom victory over would bring him much higher in the food chain. Shiv could almost smell the scent of blood just thinking about it.
At the same time, though, a part of him recognized the natural order. Iken was not somebody he'd expected to fight so soon. While he did not doubt his own abilities, it seemed almost a waste to fight him so soon. Shiv was a patient predator, one that respected the other of things. It seemed to him slightly unfitting to have the fight with such a man when there were yet so many others, strong in their own right, to fight before him.
Just the same, the feral warlord waited. Fight or no, he was in the presence of an apex predator. Whatever happened, Shiv wanted to be prepared, wanted to see it, hear it, smell it, feel it. If the chance came, of course, Shiv wanted to taste it, too. There was no sense he possessed that was not alight with anticipation.
Perfectly still, white against the white forest, shrouded in mist and watched by his pack, Shiv waited for the emperor's response.