Greatwater Lake marathon

Greyjoy didn't move or flinch when she flashed her teeth at him or spit her words in his direction. The hoplite was used to this treatment, especially from her siren sisters, though he desperately wanted to correct her choice of words. He was no longer just a consort, fit to donate his seed during their rituals. He was a hoplite, a trusted male among the women, one who watched over their lives and livelihoods. But he bit back his retort simply to keep the satisfaction from her.

"It would be no inconvenience," he assured her with a bow, but Greyjoy soon settled into his sentinel stance, seated tall with his tail tucked around his paws. She was eating, and that was all that mattered. After a few moments of silence, he turned toward her and asked, "When do you suppose we will move toward the coast, υψηλή ιέρεια?" He was curious only because the burn to reunite with the sea was driving him nearly mad. He wished to be back on the coast before long.