Hideaway Strath they lifted up their eyes and beheld, a company come bearing balm and myrrh,

Kynareth’s not as worried about first impressions as one might think. To him, as long as one is willing to be loyal and fight for him in any type of the way then he is welcome to the pack. Yet, only time can weed out those who are truly not loyal. Those who aren’t truly loyal are just as good as dead to him. 

Then as soon as the man begins speaking, it seems to be some type of religious whatever the hell he speaks of. Odd religions don’t deter Donovan in the slightest. Rather he loves hearing about them even though he doesn’t believe in a higher power himself. 

So he hums in acknowledgment, allowing the other to know he’s listening. “Nice to meet you, Gilead. I’m Kynareth Deagon of the Abbey. Your Lord has a funny way of guiding you then doesn’t he? I mean no offense of course.” He offers a short, breathy laugh as he says this. 

Though he truly doesn’t mean to offend, he just thinks it’s funny how his god guided him to their doorstep when Aya’s bones are beautifully decorating the mouth of the strath only a couple hundred feet away.

So he then answers his next question. “I’d hope so. As of right now, I’d say yes. But I’m sure there’s a selected few.” He hums with a shrug. Then he tilts his head to him then. “May I ask what the Dawn is? Is it a pack? A religion? Or...” He asks back then. Completely enthralled with this man.