03-03-2020, 08:36 AM
----------------kiss me until i can't speak
Taking an heir?
She is either mad or brilliant, and if Pteron knew that the heir she speaks of were Ghaul, there would be no question that it is the former. Not his place, he reminds himself. Pangea’s wrath will fall on those who have taken their heir, and that is not Pteron. That reassurance does not lesson the twist of discomfort he feels, the sensation that he is shirking his duty. It lessons, just a little, as Lilliana speaks of Wolfbane’s theft of the Icicle Isle leader. What his father might want with Jesper is beyond Pteron. His mother, he might understand, but not Wolfbane. So he says nothing, just listens to the copper Ambassador reiterate the warning he’d given.
The bald-faced mare that appears behind Aten is not someone that he recognizes. The wind and fog serve to keep her scent from him. She speaks like a sage, he thinks, and is not surprised to hear that she is from Nerine. Vested interest, the Taigan’s leader promises, but not protection. Pteron is unsurprised, but there is disappointment on his pale face, even when she tells him that he is welcome in Nerine. There is nothing for him in the North anymore, he thinks, and while her mention of a debt does not go unnoticed, the dun stallion cannot imagine a time he might need it. Nerine had been a constant disappointment to his family during Pteron’s life, and his distrust of this newest leader (for sure that is what she is, given how she speaks?) is surely merited.
He is distracted by the sound of his name from Aten’s lips, and turns his green eyes back to the older male. Lepis told him little, he claims, and Pteron frowns.
It is not in doubt – he knows that his parents did not share much with the champagne leader. Rather, it is in confusion that Aten might not understand why that was so. The one diplomatic responsibility he’d been given was so badly fumbled that Lepis had to repair it herself, something that even a much younger Pteron understood had grated on her.
No bad blood he reminds himself, and decides to keep the sharp truth hidden, where it cannot damage Aten’s fledging reign.
“Ischia might offer sanctuary,” he answers, “But surely allies will expect something in return. Does Nerine have the warriors to stand against Pangea? Against a dragon? Against a shifter?” This he directs at them both, the dappled mare and the new leader she stands behind. “Because Taiga does not, and if Jesper is truly stolen, then surely the island is empty as well.”
This is what he had wanted to avoid, this demand that he have answers and insight at the ready.
Pteron sighs, and the sharp bite of his broken wing adds to his scowl even as he speaks.
“As far as a plan…I’d suggest choosing the worst of the threats, and offering them…something. Something that makes leaving Taiga alone and keeping the other dangers at bay worthwhile to them.” What that something might be, and who the worst of the threats is, is a decision that he leaves up to the leader. Not his responsibility, he reminds himself, and once more laments the slow healing of his wing that has kept him here.
-- pteron --