Blackfeather Woods you tell me everything twice

It is growing apparent that his original plan - his orders - to meet back with the Caldera prior to Drageda's arrival is moot. It is not that he couldn't try to slip away. The Caldera is close enough that if he were calm and steady he could probably make it all the way back. But he does not know when Drageda is arriving and he wants to gather as much intel as he can, doesn't want to tip his hand and lose their advantage. 

Plus, even if he thinks he can handle it, he does not want to have to fight someone off. 

So instead he will wait for their arrival and learn what he can. And it is not terribly difficult to do so. Despite the ever present reminders of death they seem to function as any other pack would, and so Argent spends his time exploring and acclimating, as any newcomer would. Only time will tell the rest.

You're new, The words come matter-of-factly, a statement rather than a question, as he approaches the strange man. At first he had tensed upon seeing, but Vaati's familiar scent, as well as the dark stench of the Woods, had intertwined with the man's scent already. Miraak sidles beside him, indigo eyes appraising him before speaking again. Who are you?

The question catches him off guard. Mostly because he had not noticed the other man's approach until he spoke, though his attention now swivels to him, dipping his head in greeting. "I am," he agrees, then adds, "Argent." The man is older, Argent thinks - immediately he is drawn to the red pawprint that adorns his shoulder. It's a unique mark, obviously created by the paws of another, and it speaks to ... something the titan does not know of yet. But he is interested. After a pause he returns: "yourself?" His expression as unchanging as ever despite his intrigue.

It is clear that the man was startled by Miraak's presence. Other Melonii men that he knew might have laughed at his startled expression, but Miraak's face was stoic, glancing over the male's body. Miraak, He responded back. How long have you been here? He wanted to see how much the man knew, but felt a base reluctance towards dealing out his normal lore spiel, given the political atmosphere.

As always, there is a moment where he holds his breath, waiting for the day someone finally introduces themselves as their target. But this is not Cicero. He matches the stoicism of the older man, his own neutral expression tinged only slightly by his standard level of social awkwardness. Argent tilts his head slightly at the question, thoughtful. "Not long," he replies, "a week, perhaps two." It is difficult to track the passing of time in the darkness of the forest. It has been long enough that the Argent-guise has settled into his bones, so that he does not think of himself as anything else at the moment, but not so long he has forgotten his mission (or the very real threat of Drageda looming down on them). 

"I assume you have been here far longer," the titan says without guile -- funnily enough it is very similar to being in Drageda. An outsider once more, gleaning pieces of their culture when he can. The stakes are just... much more intense this time.

Miraak let out a huff of air, seemingly thinking back to how long it had been. Over a year now, Had it been that long? It seemed like longer. This place was home for him; he had fit in quickly, without much of the pushing and displaying many new members had done, like he assumed this Argent would, if he had the ambition.

Why here of all places? Miraak began vetting him. You don't fit the normal demographic, Most of the wolves who joined and then left were dark of fur and dark of heart. You had to be the former to dare enter the bloodsoaked borders, and the latter to truly blend in. But Argent didn't seem to be either.

He hums, both acknowledging the man's answer and question in one. He is not surprised by the inquiry - interrogation, perhaps? - given the secretive nature they seem to hold on to. (For a moment, it reminds him of Ajatar - and he remembers her disappointment with his honesty.) "I met Vaati near your borders," he begins, glancing in the direction of those corpses that still intrigue him. "I was ... intrigued, by a pack that lived so close to the reminder of death." Argent or not, he is still a simple man, invested in simple things: the ocean, dismembered heads that line a pack border. "I am not," he admits, "the type to crave power or seek thrills, but. I enjoy... being useful. Being made useful. However I am needed." A tool. (A truth, perhaps exaggerated here.)

Vaati. The young man was now their Dark Master, responsible for the protection and growth of their pack. He didn't know how to feel about that. On the one hand, he felt no one else was truly qualified for the position, but on the other, Vaati was too young. Much younger than Astrid and much less experienced. But Miraak was too old to stage a coup.

Miraak absorbs the information quietly, piercing through Argent's speech with soft 'hmms' every once and a while. He speaks as Argent's words finally end. And so you chose us to serve, He concludes, assuming that was what the man was implying. You serve death,

He cannot tell if the answer is pleasing, but Miraak seems to accept it, at the least. You serve death. In a way, he truly does. Argent can't help it - he smiles, fleetingly and rare, an oddly wry thing in his neutral mien. "I suppose I do," the titan agrees. "In whatever way I am needed." Not that he's been given anything by his new hosts - for the best, he supposes, although he would not hesitate to obey them to continue his guise.

They always promised anything, these wolves-who-were-tools. Miraak always doubted them on their extremes. Some would follow you anywhere, unless it was somewhere where they might get hurt. Some would do anything for you, unless it meant losing something they loved. He asked one question that he expected to get a yes from, but doubted the truth of it in practice. You would kill for us, then?

Argent hums. He'd expected the question; he'd thought about it for some time already. What a strange world he's mixed himself up in. "I have never killed before," the titan says honestly, in the tone of one discussing the weather. "I cannot say I would be any good at it. But I will do what is asked of me," he says, and is surprised himself by the truth of that. Because it is for, in a roundabout way, the good of Drageda, sure. But also because at his core Étoille has always been neutral through and through, and Argent is merely tipping the mask further in one direction.

Finishing up this thread

Miraak was a little disappointed, but it was not very surprising. Many outside their ranks had not killed another wolf actively. Skirmishes were more likely to end in injury than death. I will teach you, There was a skill to it. It was not simply sinking ones fangs into another's throat — well, it was but there was a finesse to it. A mentality had to be created in one's head, it had to be quick, especially in battle. 

There was naught more than Miraak could think to ask the wolf. He bowed his head, saying, Farewell. We will meet again soon. before he walked away into the dark forest.

thanks!<3

Argent nods, accepting the offer, even if he secretly hopes he doesn't have the chance. He may be willing to be a tool for his enemy, but death for death's sake is still not high on his list of enjoyed activities. Miraak seems to be finished with his evaluation, concluding their conversation; Argent bows his head to mirror him, watching him walk away for a lingering second before making his way back into the shadows of the forest.