Dragoncrest Cliffs and the sky is gray

Times are tense. It isn't good, he knew well, and it has him frustrated, sleep-deprived, and driven largely by a cold, sorrowful rage as he makes his rounds day after day. Often it's a cyclic route over the borderlands, on guard if needed, then on to check in with Aure to assure that Verx's state hasn't taken a turn for the worse at some point or that she didn't need anything. Sometimes he sends Opalia to investigate for him when he can't.. but that whole situation is a right mess, and one that he can't keep away from his focus even with everything else bearing down too—something has to be done, and this has to end.

With the skayona surely closing in on her whelping, and Verx far, far from well in the wake of his attack, they have a glaring vulnerability that peacetime would easily nurture, but they have no such luxury. Not now, and not without strife.. so it would seem.

All the same, he came trotting to the call expecting the worst already and arrived tailing Blixen by a few beats. Without saying so, his searching stare echoes the wormana's question, though nothing seemed blatantly amiss with anyone here, anyway. As he eased in beside Blixen, he was keeping his options open, however, because bad news was aplenty here on the cliffs. What was some more? What now?