Blackwater Islands I’ve got my contact high

Alduin watches the other male when he speaks with a scowl on his face. Keeping some weight off his paw, but trying not to hold it in the air like a little bitch. He could relate to his words some. If anything Alduin also only answers to one — two — people: his brother and the listener. Still, the connection doesn’t make Alduin want to bite his face off any less. Especially since he almost got bested in their battle. 

He leaves soon enough though, and Alduin would fitfully look towards his brother then, knowing he’s about to get a tongue lashing. 

There are other ways to test his skills. He says, Alduin doesn’t disagree, but he finds skill in battle is much more worth it. If one cannot fight, then one cannot be a Saint. This, Alduin firmly believes.

Still, Alduin has the audacity to roll his eyes at his younger sibling. “Brother, if he is to be a Saint, I must test his skill in battle. Obviously, it is up to par.” He grumbles. “For men like him, the only way to gain respect is through those means.”