Jade Fern Grove got that lettuce, that cabbage, that broccoli

try as he might to shoulder through the inhabited grove without conversation, the cheerless wraith found himself accosted by the very same stranger he had smelled before. stigmata lifted his chin pensively, touring the compelling black guard before him with a measured look of scrutiny. he decided rather quickly that a fight with this stag would be unfavorable, but his natural prickliness and days of civil unrest made him respond "does it really matter what anyone else calls it?" with languid carelessness.

he was not surprised at himself for the negative way in which he received the potentially dangerous stranger, but he was disappointed. he had not in fact minded the male's brusqueness, as he didn't feel obligated to pleasantries himself - especially not at that moment - but no amount of preferred personalities would have escaped his snark that day. still, because he knew himself and wanted to course-correct himself if he could, the warhound began a tentative approach towards stagnation.

he sighed.

"i am only passing through to the mountains," stigmata returned, attempting to deflect and making an effort to keep any acid from his tone; straining to sound gentler as he leaned towards diffusion - maybe too late or too obscurely.