Ravensblood Forest drop me in the water; try to make me clean

he is unsurprised that constantine tends towards the physical, with his form. a playful smile curves his mouth at his admittance at a lack of practice, and he taps his paw against the ground thoughtfully. "if you'd ever like a sparring partner," the scholar offers, then laughs softly: "not that i'm practiced in battle myself, but i'm a quick study, i promise." he does not doubt the swarthy man could easily defeat him but samothes understands the value of keeping one's body fit along with the mind and if nothing else, he'd surely learn some new skills.

the shadowy leader is quick to feel him out for input on the pack's plans - pleased, he cants his head. a council ... it's not an idea he's heard of before but it certainly has merits. "would there be a limit to the number of times someone could be voted into the council?" he asks. he could see potential either way - it depends on whether constatine wishes to see variety or not, really, or if he's confident in the democratic nature of his gathered followers. "and would there be qualifications to be - elected, as it were?" he imagines so, but holds his tongue and waits for constantine to clarify.