Firefly Glen We'll be alright if you don't ask me to stay

Tense moments drew out; the arrival of Arcturus came quietly, his presence not unnoticed entirely by Dirge. He side-eyed the quiet wraith and the sharp gaze of his eyes, but was drawn back by the crashing thunder in Charon's tone. He knew what was said in a nutshell before it was said, and it heralded back to days he thought long behind him. My word is law, it said, and it did not sit right with him. For as many times as he had spoken in jest to Hydra about conquering lands and ruling the masses, there was a distinct line between leading and ruling, and the gesture made him simmer with anger.

The fringes of his stoicism rippled, his lips coiling back in a struggle to flash his teeth as Charon laid eyes on him with such gravity. The way he spoke of his children skewed itself, seeming more beast of burden than pride. Surely it was the season affecting them all, but beneath it all it stirred deep seated concern, if not abject fear in him. But this was not the fear that would send him cowering and set him to whine and grovel for he had never been one to be cowed so easily. And it seemed he was not alone in reaction either, for Hydra's words underlined what he could not quite put into words.

It was a ploy, he thought, and the wool would not be pulled over their eyes. Hydra's words emboldened him to draw closer to her for emphasis on the cusp of Amekaze's summons; Revui beat a swift retreat in the same stroke, but Dirge did not let his gaze follow to see where he set off to, nor capture the frustration that settled onto his face. His hackles prickled along his spine minutely; he could not hide the conflict of emotions, let alone his discomfort of what was and what could be, and could not spare a wonder for what would come of such a tense impasse.