Whitebark Stream i died for beauty

vex's smile is a thin, waning thing; a twitch of the muscles along his muzzle; glossy and false as the stranger disagrees. an ear flickers back in a haughty flourish; communicating that he didn't really care what the older man thought for vex cannot remember having asked his opinion. you wouldn't be saying that if you ever crossed paths with my legate. he uses arbiter's rank in favor of calling her 'mother', not wanting to call arbiter mother in front of the stranger; especially not when he was trying to put on his (in)famous bravado.

the one thing vex could count on when it came to his mother was her iron fist ( or jaws? ).

vex lets out a low snort at the question posed to him — as if he were actually expected to answer. why? because the stranger was an adult? adult or not, he wasn't an adult vex knew and even then his tendency to answer was varied largely on his mood. like i said, vex drawls haughtily, emphasizing his words. this is our hunting grounds. he tells the boldfaced lie again, not willing to switch from his story ...and certainly not willing to given even a microinch of trust towards this stranger.