Shadewood i've got gold and silver in my bloodshot eyes

Cry watched the man explain himself, vivid with his descriptions despite a lack of wordage. The man must have been trained with some remote level of clarity on speech patterns, as his words were short and to the point. Almost as though he could have a conversation without elongating it with much effort. It was something Cry hadn’t seen come about in a number of years, and he almost felt sentiments build from it, for some silly reason. 

“It’s not a fault, friend. You were possibly looking for just the right pack to trust yourself around. You can’t fault yourself for not being ready as much as I can’t fault myself for my own inexperience with love.” Because it was seemingly true - he was fucking terrible at love. Shaking a handsome head, the ebonian mused over his incapability and wondered how long it would be before he hit a level where he wasn’t so obsessive or obnoxious over Gwen. Was that possible for a man who had been brought to specifically to hunt down and kill?

Turning back to the fellow, the shadowed Keeper gave a rather general offer, but a special one in his regards. “I have a Family becoming. There are quite a few faces here, and it’s effortless to get attached to a free life of laughter and love should you be include to find a home amongst us.” Should this new associate decline, Cry would have no hard feelings. But he also wouldn’t forget the man who’d given him some lovely advice. “I am Cry, the Keep Watcher of Shadewood.” Such a title seemed so regal, a gloss of slathering hot gold draped over a crown harboring freshly embalmed details crafted in the soft metal. “What is your name?”