Redhawk Caldera eighty-fourth

perhaps it is lack of context, but his mother in law, when she joins the gathering is quiet. assuming that he is going to have to handle this, even with the auspex's presence, kivaluk is quick to shed whatever lingering uncertainty and dons the cool, mountainous armor he wears in kigipigak's presence. draws from what in him is inherently tartok despite that he never took his kigipigak's surname and had not been raised as such.

the honeyed tongue man speaks of wealth — delicacies and baubles. material things that are of no actual use. cool silvery champagne gaze slides down to the nearly translucent shells with only a soft pang that he thinks chickadee might like them.

a novelty it may be, but kivaluk thinks it's senseless. why travel so far for useless trinkets?

meats and furs would be useful to brecheliant; the chink in his armor found and slowly, achingly pried into.

there is only a slight tense of his shoulders when the messenger speaks of attacks on both their homes, but to the best of his knowledge brecheliant suffered no such attack. if both of these wolves' palaces had been attacked: that meant they were the obvious target, regardless of the attack's lack of coordination. would solidifying an alliance of any sort paint a target on their back?

kivaluk thinks of his children and can feel his spine become like steel: stiff and unyielding.

but he fears, doning the cold, fjordborn armor of the bits and pieces of him that are tartok to the marrow of his bones will end something that has been peaceable. and he is only raven, not auspex. it is not truly his place so he remains quiet, holding his tongue. deferring to maia as his chieftain.