Sun Mote Copse You can stand me up at the gates of hell

Arturo had nothing better to offer his companion than the truth in all it's simplicity and harshness. The swarm had been generous in it's destruction and it had left little in it's wake. Little but the skeletal remains of what echoed to once be lush and majestic. Arturo wished he would have been sooner coming to these Wilds, that he might have been able to see it in it's full glory as opposed to seeing it at it's very low. Much was left to the gangster's imagination which was admittedly wasn't very creative. “I don't doubt it,” Arturo spoke to his companion's inquiries. Surely, the swarm had to have died off to the point where it left land untouched. Locusts weren't immortal, after all and the world was a very vast place. “but the journey may take you far from these Wilds.” Perhaps that was the purpose and if it was then Arturo would not be the one to stop him. It wasn't any of the gangster's business.

Caught in his own thoughts for the moment it took Arturo a few seconds to realize that the male had given his name. Peregrine. “Arturo,” The gangster replied pausing for a few seconds as he licked his chops. “Arturo Fearghal.” Because his sire-name was the very most important part of his introduction, always.