The Heartwood And will dead lips to speak?

Dreven was not foolish enough to believe that he understood everything the brown kissed she seeker was saying, but he had enough sense. To know at the very least of what spirits were and the calling of such.

Dreven himself was not entirely certain what Harbinger was. He knew he was second to Malacath, and only Malacath. And thus his loyalties lied with the large brute beast. Though were he to tell him, to show deference to another, he would indeed.

Dreven studied her and realized quickly that she was proud of the title Saga and to speak it would mean deference. One thing he had learned as Consort and slave. Always please those around you.

So he offered her a quick quirk of his lips. Then I greet you, Saga.

He thought of offering her his given name, but did he really need too. Did it matter what his name was here. Here he would be Harbinger. Not Dreven. Not Layre. Not Shayde. A title and a name. He who came from nothing, but darkness. Had a chance at living in the daylight.