Otter Creek oh, how can this be? i’ve finally found peace

❝always nice to meet fellow warriors on the road,❞ man, woman. it matters not. wintersbane's mother had been the formidable warrioress ...while his father's skills had lain in more manipulative and persuasive pursuits. another quick sweep of his glacial gaze is given to find that he's not all that surprised to hear she, too, was a fighter. she had the build that suggested as such — though wintersbane knows better than to judge based upon looks alone ( that does not, however, keep him from doing so, sadly ).

❝probably,❞ wintersbane says with a low chuckle, thinking of the tundrian tongue he hasn't spoken in quite some time. ❝sagtannet comes from my co-leader's native tongue, i think.❞ though, admittedly, what he knows of mahler's native tongue is merely that it is rough. for actual translation he must turn to the gargoyle for assistance. ❝a hermit,❞ wintersbane drawls thoughtfully. ❝is someone who never leaves their home and rarely socializes with others.❞

he explains the term as best he can with a sheepish roll of his broad shoulders. as for the fact that she is from the coast he offers, just as sheepishly, ❝you smell of seabrine. salt and sand.❞ wintersbane explains, words more careful now in the fear that he might've caused some upset with his — clearly correct — observation and drawn conclusions, despite that while she offers him a furrowed brow there is also a curious tilt of her lips in the smile he watches her give him out of the corner of his eye.