Sunbeam Lair bury the hatchet

call me seraph.

❝alright,❞ salvatore murmurs. ❝i can do that.❞ calling her by 'title' felt a bit better than calling her so informally by the nickname she offers him. maybe given time he could address her more informally if that was truly how she wish to be addressed but for now seraph works just fine. it gave him that sense of formality that killgrave demanded — from respected elder all the way to his own spawns.

his attention divides, splitting between bhediya and their chosen path were he supposes they are sorta working to put down borders here and now. unfortunately, his gaze remains steady on the path and it puts her in his blindspot and as he trusted her the first night and every night following he trusts her now. an ear flicks lazily in her direction at her question, surprise rising his scarred brow. ❝i've never led; no.❞ salvatore tells her after a short pause to sniff at the scents, struggling to determine if they were scents to be worried about or not but he is put to ease by the fact that her scent appears to be laced with their own.

❝how many of us are there?❞ he inquires then, ears fluttering back as his head whips towards the pines in what would become neutral territory eventually. a lower limb cracked with the weight of the heavy snow bowing it and limb and snow fall to the ground. realizing that it's not a threat, the muscles that pull as taunt as a bow string relax.