Blackwater Islands i trace an altar in my god's name

there is a soft hitch in ingram's throat as trikova emerges from the shadows; a wraith that he welcomes the sight of with a soft rumble of unbridled affection.

ingram watches upon her approach, a raven; with unusual plumage of ivory and midnight, let out a caw and settle betwixt the listener's shoulder. perhaps he has seen the bird before, never paying much mind to the avian.

trikova greets him as keeper and that shifts his mind from quieted intimacy to more mission-like. listener. he returns the formal, title given greeting. more of myself. it was vague, perhaps ...but how does he speak of realizing how he is soul-tied to the bringer of death, his grandmother? that their souls were fused together in a way he isn't sure how to explain. a commander herself, if only for a very brief breadth of time.

for now, that was all he had to offer. what has happened while i was away? he asks, wanting to be up to speed on the going-on's he might've missed.