Sleeping Dragon we met over a small earthquake

Thuringwethil shrugs, quirks a brow, and her smirk remains on her features. She'd simply been looking for the woman herself and, coming upon her when she has the same intentions, makes her question their alignment. Her tail swishes a few times above her spine but she manages to stay comfortable even with her stiffened posture and even if with her head squared above her shoulders, she's as relaxed as she can manage in the presence of another. Heda never quite leaves her.

It doesn't take long for Gyda to go into her purpose and she immediately forgets why she was searching for her companion in the first place. The smirk slowly dies down, turning her face black, hardened into stone.

"What?" she asks, as if she didn't hear the words fall from her lips. 

Gyda's face remains and her own brows furrow, trying to piece together the information. Sleeping Dragon isn't that old, their members were barely infants in their home. What they've contributed to Drageda isn't enough to warrant fathering for their queen. The pack itself barely has its roots in the ground and to add something so unstable? To throw off their balance? Thuringwethil stiffens, bites back the angered words of her native tongue, before she lets slip out her decision: "No."

Much like this.