that moon has a name in the fires of a silver corpse; any

[woolf]

bitterness is thick like blood and cold as a wind sea breeze
if you must drink of me, take of me what you please

Woolf merely shrugs at Wolfbane’s concern.

The mulberry stallion has no particular thirst for destruction, not particular hunger to end lives. He has nothing in him that drives him to cruelty, although he doesn’t necessarily mind the blood on his hands. All he wants is a way to end the boredom. Something to sink his teeth into. It has been so long since he has been able to find something worth his time—something where he could learn something new. If he had misjudged the two in front of him and they didn’t want such wild power, he didn’t mind either way.

One corner of his mouth lifts into a smirk at the visions that Wolfbane brings to the forefront of his mind. He tilts his head in thought and then just nods. “All accomplished easily enough,” he muses, pushing the thoughts into the striped King’s mind. For a moment, he loses himself in tracing the stallion’s heritage, delighted with what he found. “Especially if you are willing to bleed for your people, nephew.” Half great-nephew would be more accurate, but Woolf didn’t care much for semantics. It was enough that he was related to the King through his great-grandmother. It was enough of a connection.

His attention is caught by the mare, catching the edges of her irritation at the death of the plants. It blossoms again beneath her, wavering into vision as if it had never been gone at all. There is no additional foliage—just the original plants he had found when he had first stopped. As if he had never been there at all. “I am bored,” he answers in his heavy voice, no emotion running through it. “There is nothing you can do to pay me. I simply seek a way to occupy my time,” he pauses, adding a truthful afterthought. “I seek a way to learn more.” He glances upward at the sky as it passes, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

“Although I have also told Scorch I would be visiting Nerine before I made a final choice in residency.”

woolf

I am loathed to say it's the devil's taste

[Wolfbane]

WOLFBANE

Woolf’s thoughts, in return, give Bane a more concrete idea of the individual they’re engaging with. His odd-ended comment on their distantly-shared lineage is as factual as it is touching, simultaneously putting the pegasus at ease and setting him on edge. “Heartfire?” He thinks unwillingly, blinking afterwards before sighing to physically force his mind to empty. Maintaining a sense of controlled emotion around a creature wholly attuned to sorting them out was mentally exhausting; perhaps involving himself a little deeper into the dark arts might not be such a bad thing.

He could learn plenty, and wouldn’t mind being studied himself or dabbling in rituals for a bit of knowledge on how to better avoid or defend against them.

All good and well, but for Lepis. Both stallions perk at her comment, Woolf composedly righting the magically exposed earth while Wolfbane himself only huffed in a breath of laughter. How could a mage ever be bored when horses like Lepis existed to remind them of the humanity they all seemed to eventually lose? “Then take the knowledge of an offer with you when you go.” He says aloud, “Whatever title you fancy, if that’s something you’re into. I’m not your mom as you’ve pointed out so I won’t be looking after you but, I’d like to see more of your… ideas about practice.”

Afterwards he hold his peace and stays to watch Lepis, but in truth the Loess leader feels rooted to the spot. Woolf’s coming had seemed to put this whole land and her people on a string, and the weight of that uncertainty felt like the burden of a mountain.

|| The Pirate Lord of Loess ||

@[Lepis] @[woolf] Straight and to the point figured you two wanted to get caught up since it's taken me forever to reply