Neverwinter Forest You can hide underneath me and come out at night

A demure smile spread across his face as the yearling's words curtailed sharply. Restraint may have been the word for it, but the truth of it was that Dirge could not retain a mask of stoicism. It was an all too sharp reminder of someone he would have liked to thought of as better of dead and maybe if the age had lined up a bit better, he might have considered this fellow one of Charon's kids. At least, maybe a slightly more hateful, mouthy branch—he couldn't have possibly been cut from the same cloth as the rest of them.

His gaze shifted to Dragomir and Isilmë instead, more when the former offered back an icy lashing that was very pointed and for the most part, very true. The wolf hadn't called for any sort of reinforcements, but then again he hadn't anticipated more stumbling along if the ire-laced words suggested anything. But was more curious to Dirge was how he simply threw out that it was his home and how he likened the two children in their company to be more feeble than they seemed.

"Oh, where we're from isn't as far away as you may think, but they seem to be quite capable of feeding themselves," he went along conversationally. Granted, it wasn't exactly what Dirge would have really called a meal to split between two fairly grown kids, but he couldn't have said he had done better at their age. Fortune did favor the bold, or so it was said to be... and hopefully it would favor all of them in the way that Dirge brought his gaze once more to meet that of the yearling.

The trace of annoyance had left him to shift towards more of a veiled warning.

"You'd do well to mind that tongue in the meantime, and we'll be gone as soon as they're ready. Then you can have your solitude again." It was cheeky, that demure smile turned smirk; he knew the commentary wouldn't go over well and stoked the fire of such keenly.