the wolves will chase you by the pale moonlight
{drunk and driven by the devil's hunger}
He finds her interesting, which is perhaps why he continues the conversation even when he could simply choose to turn and leave. There was nothing keeping him here, after all. He could very well turn and look for a place to be by himself, to rest in his own thoughts and observe the changing tides of Beqanna without feeling the need to muss them. There was no overwhelming urge to submerge himself just yet.
Without his powers, it wasn’t even as if he could do any good for his family.
Still, she was frank and open and he appreciated the candor with which she answered his questions. So he did not leave, instead cocking a back leg and regarding her with his his cool green eyes. “Home is always relative, don’t you think?” He had always found it amusing how so many pledged loyalty to a land that could not truly love you back. Sure, he had heard the stories of how the Chamber had interacted with his family, but even though she seemed alive in her own right, she had not loved them. It was not love that had caused her to dip in Atrox’s chest and rip out his heart; it was not love that kept Makai alive.
He never could understand why his family kept serving her. Why others tied themselves so deeply into other lands. What did they possibly get in return? What was in it for them? He shook his head to rid himself of the thought and focused again on the mare. He did not quite smile, but his expression warmed slightly at the sound of her laughter. “You do not look old,” he commented. It was not in Woolf’s nature to flatter, and the words were not intended as such. Instead, he offered them as they were: dry commentary.
“Still, serious is not always so bad, is it?”
Woolf
