Ravensblood Forest blood flutes

[table width=55%][tr][td]
it was armand's turn to give a small smile — the skills of which he spoke were singular in nature and largely carnal. he was true in his assessment that they would be of no use to the man, unless of course he was commanded to ply his trade along the coastline in return for information. the idea both abhorred and titillated the boy, though he kept silent upon that front, turning instead the volume of his fascinated eyes upon the man as the leader continued to speak. perhaps his wide-eyed agreement would silence the wolf upon that front, though armand already knew the creature before him would not easily be deterred. and the boy's mind also whispered that he had brought to himself the attention of this man, and not necessarily in a manner that the catamite would find useful.
he was assigned a task — he gave a nod. locating a pack and going out again into the snow to glean information for this arturo, as he was called, seemed effortless enough. and perhaps it would be, given the nature of the packs roundabout teaghlaigh. there was again the card arturo had called into question, the ace in armand's hand, as it were, and one he would not hesitate to play again, as he had done with castiel.
"arturo," armand murmured, and his eyes lifted to the quiet fire of his leader's gaze with an admiring light glinting in their depths. as soon as their gazes had met, however, the child dropped his stare to the earth and let himself be buffeted by olive's cloying display of optimistic sentiment. armand reached to touch her shoulder with a lingering gratitude, then straightened with another nod. "i shall go off tomorrow."[/tr][/td][/table]