Moonspear washed away in a tide of longing

A beat of silence proceeded what he would divulge to Osiris next. It was not entirely uncertainty that guided his organizing thoughts so much as it was how to explain things. There was a resolute reason Hydra handled the more political side of things when it came to interpersonal dealings—she had the acumen for it, the patience. Dirge lacked the latter, instead preferring to play on the discussion points she would bring to him later, to be a voice of reason or an external conscious to whatever devious things crossed her own.

But perhaps most importantly, Hydra knew how to handle a keening blade and where to put it.

“For some, our aid in various matters,” he began, “others owe us a favor and want to repay a perceived debt. And there are those that merely respect your mother and I enough to suggest and put it into action.” His head canted slightly, considering all the ties that they had amassed. There were far fewer that they could use now with the Nightwalkers gone. With nary a peep from Sagtannet he wondered if the alliance they had forged was even worth it. And Easthollow? Too far out of the way and question.

“Of course, there are plenty who do not do their share of a favor too,” he went on, his head righting as they moved along. “And they know better than to turn up. I’d even imagine some of them are wolves your mother has known a very long time, being born here and all.” He did not question the contacts she had or the contracts she made; at best Dirge kept his eyes on what ones she brought to light, and made his assessments from afar.

He cleared his throat and continued: “We make alliances as we see fit. We have one with Easthollow, for instance, though I believe that’s more because of Nikai and Alya than anything. We had one with the fellows that called themselves Nightwalkers, when they were about. They were good hunting partners,” and they were gone, but, “and I’d like to think eventually we’ll come to an agreement with Neverwinter as well.”