Moonspear floating nescient

The face she wore seemed to crack at his words, and within those growing fissures he found truth of a troubling sort. Though he was aware of the ultimatums that Hydra had issued, he had not thought her entirely the sort to cast out another so willingly, so soon. Perhaps there was more to that story than he could imagine, but he did not spare the time to ponder, and his ears slicked back for a moment as Reiko seemed to degrade further emotionally.

"She is slow to trust as we all are, but with good reason," he offered. He couldn't have claimed to trust her fully either, but she was certainly a better option than those who had sought to rend her lifeless. But the tumultuous history of Moonspear was not entirely lost on him either—it had been the proverbial outsiders who had time and time again proven they did not deserve trust placed in them, and even some who had led to harm.

"I'll talk to her," he went on, "my wife may be equal parts fire and brimstone, but she does listen. If you're not ready, then you're not ready—the harshness of this mountain does not send the unable to die without reason, or turn away the able and willing." Though it did, he knew, and ignored as well as he tried to shape stone and minds otherwise. Kindness had little to do with it; Dirge sought to find boundaries within his own station, to find just where they would heel and listen, and it had been a time consuming affair thus far.

"And if you'd prefer to stay once you've healed, we can come to an accord then."