Herbalists' Cache blue

Their trip to visit the Cortens, and their time upon the island, had been nothing but fulfilling. Sure, he hadn’t particularly enjoyed the news that he and his raven were tasked with sharing, but it was fulfilling in other ways and 99% of that was at the hands of the silent woman at his side. She had melded quite seamlessly into their society during their short stay, and the man found it quite fun to tout her around and show her off and indulge all the fun parts of life that were so difficult to do solo. He introduced her to Sirimiri and Serein, both of whom were green with a chummy sort of envy, demonstrated various ceremonies and indoctrinations to her and Yakone, and he might have considered it a grand bacchanal if it were not for her change of heart upon their return.
 
Less and less time was spent with the raven, and more time was spent with her child. He was good at babysitting  apparently, but it did not mean that he particularly enjoyed it or wanted to devote his time to it. Nonetheless he did often seek Yakone out to engage her in play [or simple juvenile conversation] whenever her mother did make one with the shadows and leave them by their lonesome. 

Despite this, life, at the moment of here and now, was easy. Many might think the life of the vagrant to be cruel and harsh, but the angaqquk’s experience could be nothing more opposite. The freedom nourished him as would a fine liquor, lubricating his body as well as his soul and making even the most mundane tasks. The absence of hierarchy, the man found to be very in line with his values [though he though himself inclined to leadership, he never took particular joy in asserting himself or his ideas over another, which was a thing power had a tendency to do to a wolf]. He blossomed under the influence of a woman’s affection  — that type of surly confidence that came from a man that knew he was truly wanted. It was a nice change of pace; not having to try to convince a woman of her latent desires. 

— but apparently, as of recent, that was not so!

The trio had decided to make camp for the night, and as the raven put her child to bed, the man watched her and wondered. He’d try tonight, like he’d tried every night, but he wasn’t sure how far he’d get with the voiceless woman. At times she was as consistent as the phases of the moon, but other times her vicissitude of emotions more closely resembled the churning waters of a river’s rapids — flaring and swirling in places he did not expect, and challenging his ability to stay afloat. Perhaps that's what enamored him so about the raven, his inability to figure her out, as well as the subtle feralness that belied almost all the things she did. It was a part of him that he saw reflected well within her, and so the earthstalker was not so quick to label it as bad. In fact, he often wished to nurture it; if for nothing more than to see where the wilds might take him. 

She was ignoring him, but Komodo was firm in his belief that he could ignore louder. His molten gaze simmered upon her as she swayed and moved about their dwelling, knowing full and well that she could feel the weight of his heavy-handed attention despite her turned back and reluctant willingness to acknowledge him. The raven liked to play these games, but she rarely succeeded. It was a sacrifice that came with the earthstalker’s courtship, for he was a man who liked to get his way. 

So, he stood there and stoked the growing discomfort that might force her to address him. It would happen eventually, and he was fine to remain reticent until that happened.