Kildeer Rest real gods require blood

only if nyyrikki accepts the favor. wintersbane feels a coy smirk tug at the corners of his lips as he speaks, a slight rise of his brow given. his belief in deities had taken shape during his time with the dark woods — for he'd seen too many weird things to not believe in them ...and then there'd been the whole mushroom incident when he'd not only heard the daedra but seen them. of course, his stance on the tundrian deities is much less substantial. it is lore; for wintersbane it falls into the category of doing it out of respect for his ancestors.

the deep seeded thrill for danger is what keeps wintersbane talking — and perhaps a bit of disbelief that one, his gift had been so readily rejected and two, that he was coming face to face with an actual bear. he'd never had the misfortune of coming across one before. his instincts — on top of derg's command — heighten and his muscles are flooded with the fuel of adrenaline as he turns and takes off after derg, hackles bristled with both petulance that he'd actually taken a command from his subordinate — does this mean he will have to put derg back into his place? — and because his glimpse of the bear was little more than a brown lumbering mass making its way towards them.

when they are far enough, wintersbane spares a glimpse over his shoulder to find that the bear was gone and his steps slow, sides heaving with each heavy pant as he catches his breath. he's not following us. wintersbane points out to derg. we're clear. he says in between pants, drawing in a deep breath to regulate his breathing and slow the furious thrum of his heart.