Blackwater Islands dread

words of comfort, of soft retaliation at her words of failure flutter to his throat but do not form beyond. they do not take form on his tongue despite how fiercely he wishes to contest it. he does not see it as failure!

ingram had never seen himself in a leader role...at least, not until the vision. the blood of his muzzle, the taste of usurping... the crown of bones atop his brow. once upon a time, he'd been content to be only the iron guardian. the keeper.

now? now he found himself stepping into himself; embracing all facets of himself to make the chaotic and dark stainedglass painting he was.

whole again now that they were reunited, that she was by his side once more.

dreadfather, he murmurs his title first; drinking in her scent: isolated and tinged strongly with seabrine. and nightmother. he had always hoped for her return; though it was not until now that he thought she should have her own rank, seperate from the others. high in the heirarchy but not a leader, if only because she has stated as such.

you will start first as druid, as all the others out of fairness. he explains, knowing that he has no want to keep her there. i will give you a task, as i will all the others. once that is completed, you will be elevated into and remain in the rank of nightmother.