Bramblepoint they should deliver all my blessings in small brown paper handbags near the porch

her muzzle lifted, ready -- reading into praimfaya's tone and language, dacio's too. if there was a lie, one of them would betray it. either praimfaya would not appear contrite, or dacio would involuntarily betray praimfaya's guise with a tell-tale flicker of surprise.

far as she could tell, the girl was truthful -- caiaphas was a wolf experienced with reading those before her, and caught no edge of deceit in the would-be roangedan's mien. "good." the siren responded, an air of solemnity collecting around her. "but you know him." here she seemed almost regretful -- but not for reasons either of them would discern.

dacio came forward, a rippling snark pressed from his teeth. caiaphas agreed — it had been time for her to go for some time — but first.. aren’t you curious how i know him, his name? why i’m out here, talking to you? she readied herself in case dacio did not permit any further conversation. you know he became rusalkan? my packmate. my son saw promise in him — if you can’t beat them, join them, right? an airy laugh sounded from her thin muzzle, bitter and hard as dried clay. he came with me here — and here caiaphas drew together the truth and the twists with delightful ease, not a sign of beguile across her muzzle. since so much of what she had spoken was nothing but the truth, slipping in that single lie came as easily as blinking to the siren. "he is dead. not of my own hand, but an enemy of rusalka. we camped here to avenge a crime, and he was killed by an easthollow wolf.” caiaphas’ gaze flickered now between the two of them, measuring their reactions. i can lead you to him, if you would like.

of course there was the possibility they’d react negatively to such news — in which case, caiaphas was ready to make a swift exit.