Blackfeather Woods I don't remember this dumpster being my subsidiary

'used to live here...' eyes sweep the shadowed trees, broken up by slants of light that broke through in all the more magnificent beams against such dark backdrops, dappling the worn paths in shifting patterns. a soft inhale; oh how blissful is must be to be able to refer to 'here' without such bitter longings. blackfeather had a tendency to sink possessive claws deep into your soul; she often wondered would she be better off had she never let herself reside here.

so she'd been correct on hela once living here, yet she chose to shift allegiance to the nightwalkers? she did wonder why but it was not overly dominant in her mind. for one thing, since hela did not ring any bells and tundra had never shown much of an interest in pups and no one had ever come panicked to her about any hela, and she supposed the nightwalkers held some similarites to blackfeather. yet that thought process breaks off quite abruptly with an uneasy twitch within, no, no they weren't. the nightwalkers had sounded like what she'd come from and she had not chosen blackfeather because it was similar to such horrors...such internal conflicts, being as common as they were, did not reach her impassive surface as she simply shook her head once more. "mm perhaps, well if she's chosen there that is not my concern" simple as that really, she could not chide one for choosing a different path. the appeal of the rush of being a mercenary, the power and euphoria that could come along with it; deep within part of her leans longingly towards the idea of it- begs her to stop suppressing it with such vigor. she ignores it. 

her position shifts slightly as she runs that conversation she'd had with the blood eyed man over in her head. "not that well" she admits "i met him back...gosh when was it, back in the height of summer i'd reckon. we conversed for a while and i must admit he intrigued me, so excited to show off his potential little group of mercenaries" a little smirk plays along blackened lips "i might come congratulate him on his success some time" she muses with a lilting laugh. 

when doll eyes focus back on the man, a spark of rare mischief dares to present itself as her muscles tense a little and ears lean slowly back. "and would you perhaps be willing to show me the level of skill his mercenary's possess?" oh how her blood sings at the possibility of getting to feel that rush, let it sweep the thoughts of such a troublesome mind away and let her become a being of pure instinct.