Blackfeather Woods i fear no evil; the shadow is mine and so is the valley

wintersbane lets out a low grunt of agreement at her hopes that hunting remains fruitful. survival depended upon that and out of things to hope for that was certainly practical in the tundrian's eyes. the winter is young yet, he does not mean to be a pessimist, but he's always operated on the side of logic. the strategist in him was not only finely crafted for war. he does his best to contribute and help prepare for the long winter before them. he rationalizes that it's better to be overly prepared than not prepared enough. thus far the daedra have seen fit to provide and for that i am grateful.

likewise. wintersbane murmurs in return of her pleasantry. he's never been one for them, but this meeting between them was long overdue and he is apologetic that it's only taken how many months for them to finally meet face to face.

wispmother grotto, he replies in a smoky drawl as she inquires as to the sub-territory's name. it reminds me of the night mother. he admits, offering his opinion with an errant and lofty shrug of broad shoulders. he does not know how much she is aware of the religion ...or if she believes in it. once upon a time he scoffed at all notions of beings higher and mightier than what he could see ( and comprehend ).

maybe this place was in some semblance or another named after mephala and perhaps it was not. he's never asked. the webweaver daedra's presence is always felt by him though; solidly now that he has begun the initiation process to earn his place among the dark brotherhood. i like it, he adds quietly. though i do not visit as oft as perhaps i should. it is holy ground, after all ( though it could be argued that the dark woods and all of it's subsidiary territories was holy ground ).

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