Blackfeather Woods Wicked sitar rift

Words had been shared, but what had stood out the most to him was the fact that the child would be permitted to stay. And though Damien had disagreed with the name given to her, the Inuit had said nothing of it, an internal decision to call the girl as he had been having been made—what the prince didn't know surely wouldn't harm the priest. It mattered not what she was called by others anyways, as he'd view her as his own no matter the situation, and planned to raise her just as if she'd been born there. Someday it would be the Brotherhood that she served, but until then he saw no harm in acting towards her just as if she were a normal child.

Nothing more was said by the male, a nod having been given instead to tie everything together. Xivilai he would call her when the situation called for it, but she'd otherwise always be Qilaq to him. And, hopefully, Nemesis as well. Speaking of which, as she'd entered his mind he'd looked towards her, brows furrowed as her predicament was observed. Though he'd obviously never been a mother, he'd seen one at work, and so he'd quietly usher his wife and new daughter away if permitted to do so. Potema would be requested to join them, of course, for the sake of ensuring that everything was working alright. It would be towards his own den that he'd steer them if allowed to leave, looking to place the whelp in an area of comfort so that she might settle in easier.