Ankyra Sound Grubble Rubble

Something in his demeaning remarks about the young boy's father had sparked a fire in the youth. This wasn't at all shocking to the ragged old wolf. He could have anticipated that the bright-eyed boy would be quick to take his father's side and defend him with everything that he had. It was a pity that Kierkegaard had lost interest. Had he found himself in a better mood, he would have encouraged the behavior and perhaps would have made an effort to ignite the burning passion in the pale beast's gut. At that point, the ashen mercenary thought it best if he just crawled out from the grotto and found a quiet place to nap.

The words that were trailing behind him did not phase the lumbering brute. He swiveled a single ear backwards to catch the tail end of what Arrille was saying before he snorted and shook his head. “Yeah, good luck with all that, son,” he sneered. While he did not have a doubt that if Caiaphas had given the boy her word, she would follow through on it. His distrust seemed to settle in the fact that he knew better than to thrust blind faith on the foolish.

Picking his way out of the grotto and into the open, the ghost sighed softly and fixed his gaze on a point down the beach where he might find some peace and quiet. He did not anticipate the young man would follow; he seemed eager to fill Caiaphas' ears with his vows of redemption for the father who had walked out when the boy had been no more than a pup.