"With my speechless calm eyes."
The tension never really flows away from his body, but at least the tension between the two parties seemed to get a bit less. Sure, the magma king still seemed a bit irritated and had clearly been offended by his words – although he hadn’t really meant bad – yet he didn’t let that stand between him and his goal. And that goal seemed to be an alliance, or at treaty, how you wanted to call it. Brynmor can’t find himself to like the Chamber’s king, but they clearly had started off on the wrong foot. And right now that wasn’t really what seemed to matter. So he keeps himself silent at Offspring’s side, just listening and observing, not mingling anymore.
Nymphetamine has his attention when he speaks, his blue eyes not moving away from the blood bay’s form as long as it lasts. At least he does have that much manners. And it isn’t like he isn’t interested, just a little worked up because of something he hadn’t been able to let go of. He hated to admit it, but he could only trust Nymphethamine on his words, as they seemed genuine and spoken out of free will – and not because he was obligated to defend his king. Brynmor nods once he finishes speaking, simply letting know he had understood what was said and would carry it with him. Maybe, maybe one day he would be able to get over the past, but for now he would just have to put his feelings aside and try to be a good diplomat.
He listens to the two kings, still not really liking it, but nonetheless accepting. This isn’t Gryffen. And he claims to not rule like Straia, and was willing to leave the past behind them. Offspring too, he claimed to be willing to form an alliance between the Tundra and the Chamber, even naming the Gates and the Valley too. A strange mingle of alliances, but maybe not that strange if you knew that they were all fresh – new – rules. Or at least, took over the reigns at around the same time. His eyes move from Offspring to Killdare, depending on who was speaking at that same time. And when the magma king leaves he dips his head slightly, as in a wordless goodday and as a sign of politeness.
He is silent for a while, watching their retreating forms, before he turns slightly towards the black king. ”Maybe I should go pay them a visit” he speaks softly after sighing first. He doesn’t like it, not one bit, as he has mostly bad memories about the Chamber. Yet at the same time it might give him closure. Maybe he would run into Gryffen or Shaytan too, so he could make clear his strings were no longer played by a puppeteer.
"Nothing is coming to rise."