Lion Head Mesa i worship ancient hungers

wintersbane glimpses skyward, gaze lingering upon the moon for prolonged beats of a moment as if it might crack open like an egg and reveal all of it's secrets. if he's waiting on it, he's left disappointed. he distinctly lacks the talent to read the stars and knowledge of the moon's phases and it manifests itself in a low grumble, unintelligible of annoyance. he doesn't exactly understand how observation of the moon's current phase and it's effect on wolves has anything to do with the dark brotherhood. nevertheless, it's an initiation quest and he hungers to climb the ranks of the dark brotherhood as he's clawed his way to the top of the standard ranks.

ambition will not allow him to stop. not when he's so close. not even when he doesn't particularly understand the usefulness of a quest. still, it's a giant glowing rock, wintersbane deadpans in a mutter under his breath, accented pointedly and sharply by a snort. how can it's phases possibly affect anyone? clearly, he was never meant to be a dark priest. wintersbane doesn't expect anyone to be lingering in the shadows, waiting for him to vacate his prime sky-gazing spot and therefore he doesn't realize she's there. thus, the tundrian thinks out loud, believing that he's safe to grumble about a quest he doesn't quite grasp understanding on.