Moonspear fulthark

It's not favorable, the next turn of events.

He doesn't get a response, just the return of haze to the depth of the gaze Larus holds. This time, instead of just some idling, buffering sort of behavior the wolf is more animated. He sees but he does not see at the same time, and the impossibility puts Dirge at the edge of a not so blunted sword and leaves him to teeter.

A growl almost leaves him when Larus stumbles and with that distance completely diminished between them, the heady smell of the wilderness meets him and threatens to ward him away. Gone is the leaning tower of confidence and grasp of conversation yet again; Larus beholds a mind of a lateral root long since waterlogged, so far away from it's primary source that it's done more than just suffer. It has turned to rot.

Had he been able to bore his gaze into him any more than possible, it would have surprised him to find something of substance in him. He suspected there was little he could do to help him—he searched for this Blondine, but she wasn't there. She wasn't Hydra and maybe that was a saving grace, or better yet a blessing and curse for Dirge who once more found himself uncertain of what to do with him.

"Quit your snivelling," he said, this time void of the gentile nature he once possessed. It felt cruel—it was, harsh and bleak and unbecoming. How Ostrega of him at his core, he thought. He didn't like it. He didn't like how close they were but found himself unable to relent and withdraw to something that would have proposed a sense of safety. He held onto that confidence and seized the notion that Larus had no substance to him other than having let his mind go in search of something that wasn't there.

It was tiresome, he decided, and long past time to reach a decision.

So he would force the other hand instead, and brought his muzzle close to an ear.

"You walk a very dangerous path right now, Larus. Either you're ill or you're too consumed by your grief in losing her, and either way you're very close to wearing through my patience. Now I've watched you trail my border—your nose should have told you long before I that your Blondine is not here. What end are you hoping to achieve?"