Moonspear Never Ever

The timing of the return was unexpected by his estimations, to say the least. There was no particular haste taken to come and receive Charon's return on his part either; Dirge knew as well as anyone on the mountain that the odds of walking into literal storm were decent. He would approach it like he did most things, with a particular nonchalance and curiosity. The rift that had been left in the wake of the season and boiling tempers would not be so easily sewn shut.

A clamor of voices guided him in as he neared the rendezvous site; he heard Charon's voice and then Hydra's, the subtle tones of Amekaze only to be joined by a more eager one belonging to none other than Arcturus. The yearling's input netted a faint smile across his lips, a surprising innocence in a matter that surely still went over his head. From the brush and shade, he laid eyes on the group as he pieced the situation together but did not yet interrupt anything.

He wondered, instead, whether what he had heard in snippets were true. Perhaps all went according to plan and there was nothing to fear, leaving a certain patriarch a white knight, but he had his doubts. Such outcry wouldn't have been warranted if there was even a shred of doubt, and Dirge too knew the burn of carnal desire, knew the struggle of deciding whether to give in or get out. It was a delicate situation and because of that, he lingered on the sidelines and out of view. But certainly not out of earshot.