Ravensblood Forest all gods who receive homage are cruel

wintersbane almost doesn't expect her to respond and when she does speak he is quiet, giving her his rapt attention because despite his cynicism on the matter he is ( more than ) vain enough to be curious. she can look at him and see intelligence. a useful skill, he thinks. she explains that it's his eyes — and the tundrian can't help the small grin that unfurls at the edges of his lips that fades as quickly as it appears as the dark brother lets out a quiet and contemplative hum. that's a useful talent. he remarks — a compliment — gruffly with a roll of his broad shoulders.

if you really want to know i don't doubt you could find me. spoken with a quirk of his lips. a challenge? perhaps. but it occurs to them that they are strangers and though she might've been curious ( and possibly recruitable ) his unwillingness to so openly share might've lost the opportunity. he supposes that's fine. he can't be too careful. there are very large bounties on the heads of the wolves of the dark woods. for harboring mou-titmouse-screech. for taking fire as a captive; and facing the hard cold facts: blackfeather woods would not survive the next war to show up on their doorstep. so he's careful and he makes hard judgement calls even if he calls it wrong.

the strangers exchange a few more words to one another — nothing overly insightful on either side before they ultimately part ways.