fly on

Had the situation been any different, Mordecai may have found the urge to laugh at the notion that Charon did not see himself as the snotty kid. He was snotty, but he was also far from a child now. If anything, Mordecai knew he was old enough to be held accountable for his actions and at any rate, he supposed there was something in there that justified Dante lashing out: Osprey. It was not the sort of thing that he agreed with, but that also rested on the edge of the fact that Charon was family. They shared the same blood and rightfully so, Mordecai felt the necessity weigh in that he needed to look out for him. So when the premise of a subject change came up, he also took that path with a sort of inward eagerness. Anything to steer away from yet another piece of history that was better left to rot and shift to dust.

"Further east than here, down into the valley," Mordecai explained, casting his attention back towards his previous venture. "Myself and another, we claimed it, along with some followers." His answers may have been vague, but if nothing else he would have reckoned them to whet Charon's interest and further steer their conversation away from Dante. He thought for a moment to tell him of Andalusia, but withheld for favor of having interest in his nephew. "My co-leader is a healer, if you'd like I could have her look after your wounds if they're bothering you." Of course, it may have been a little too late for that as well; he wasn't entirely blind to the fact that they had started to close up and heal.