Stavanger Bay and the rich golden hum

the other shows themselves at wintersbane's cryptic words; hanging in salt tanged air betwixt them. the dispel of various flora catch sharp polar gaze; a flicker betwixt ground and the stranger's face; studying.

you a medic? wintersbane asks after a stretch of prolonging silence. a diversion from what could've been said or asked in it's stead. a ploy to give wintersbane time to decide how he wishes to approach this. give chase? offer to escort while they gathered their herbs and medicines? though his choices were ultimately limited to extreme and fairly generous ( at least he thinks so ), wintersbane does not wish to make them hastily.

for now, interlopers were safe from the flash of his teeth. a mercy granted only until more of a foundation is lain and ironclan's numbers begin to grow.

idle conversation continues and when the interest notably appears to wane, wintersbane draws it to a close, choosing not to make opportunity where he assumes there isn't one to be had.