Tuktu Hinterlands Yea, I'd rather be a lover than a fighter

Ithax moves close when the brindled beast stops, shifting his body to touch Alduin’s own. Cheek to cheek and hip to hip he inquires why exactly they’re stopping. Alduin would simply jut his chin out to the dark form in the snow, a gaze of familiarity in his eyes.

Only when the dark furred man acknowledges him back, Alduin moves forward towards him fearlessly, brushing the length of his body against the agouti man beside him. He would halt just before Dreven, eyes peering over his shoulder at the pale woman beside him. His gaze isn’t harsh, but isn’t soft. Though when he flick back to the scarred male his expression smoothes only some.

“I was forced to fetch an artifact.” He hums getting straight to the point of his absence, sure the other would remember his obsession with things of this nature. 

At this point he’d turn on his heel, grab the skull from the snow and set it before the other male. Said skull is short muzzled and oddly shaped — a human skull, Banesteppe informed him. Banesteppe’s skull himself. Its lifeless, hollowed eye sockets stare back at the pair opposite Alduin. An odd feeling is usually accompanied with its presence, but not all can feel it. 

Alduin can though.

It’s a powerful artifact ensured to push him that much closer to becoming a god. Yet, another symbol of his eternal slavery to the humanoid deity.

And so Alduin would take his eyes from the bone to the bloody red of the man before him. “I could not disobey.” He supplies ominously.