Deepwood Weald What the Night King wants

His invitation was not left untouched, the slayer silently grasped it - and for only a brief snatch of seconds his glacial gaze flickered to observe the ebony male before reaching back out to the cloak of fog. He'd noted the crimson pawprint eternally marking Damien as one of the brotherhood before, but only in this sudden glimpse had his eyes traced the dim spider that also burned across his shoulder. In stoic quietude he contemplated what, exactly, that mark signified. He didn't recall mention of it during his time at blackfeather, prolonged as it had been.

Instead of voicing his thoughts, the silver-streaked svartell cupped his ears to listen as the sovereign asked a question of his own. Aries himself was not one for conversation, and his methods at communication were distinctly cold, apathetic as was his nature even without the demon's touch, but this was one of he few relationships he sought to maintain. To build. "It is worthy," he began, voice a low echo of a rumbling mountain, "Secure. Concealed. I believe it will be safe in future moons." The implications behind ought to be clear enough - if the leading pair were to raise young, the slayer thought this a stable enough location. It took a brief pause for him to re-evaluate the question to realise that he had not really provided an answer to the enquiry provided. An emotionless soldier was not expected to speak of how he thought of their domain unless it was stricly on business terms; the sovereign had said you, and the starborn struggled to overcome an understanding of whether he meant personally or not. 

"It-" he started rough, "it's good." The words felt unwelcome and forgein upon his tongue, but he let them hang there, in the frigid air. Hopefully answer enough, but he was not adept at forming a new question to pass in return.