Phantom Hollow To breathe, to feel, to know I'm alive

i think this is the most he's ever spoken lolol

Hunst’s towering form moved with deliberate steps, his stark white face impassive but his eyes alight with something sharp and unreadable. He met Alara’s unwavering gaze with one of his own, brow lifting slightly at her pointed remarks.

You never were one to mince words, cousin, he rumbled, his voice low and gravelly, touched with the frost of his homeland. And yet here you are, aligning yourself with goals not entirely your own. Curious, isn’t it?

His gaze followed the tilt of her muzzle toward the path he had come from, where Reverie’s shadow lingered. A brief flicker of something passed over his features, too fleeting to name. Her way is not mine, nor is it yours, he stated, his tone steady as stone. But war has a way of binding wolves to things they’d rather not claim. River’s hold may chafe, the least I can do is remain steadfast.

As Alara moved to take the lead, Hunst followed at her pace, his heavy footfalls deliberate but unhurried. "You speak of reclaiming what’s stolen," he murmured, his voice quieter now, as though weighing the words. Damn right. We’re owed more than scraps, more than a place at someone else’s table. Independence isn’t just a dream, Alara—it’s the only way forward. The Sea-Snakes have always been their own, and I’ll see to it they remain so.

His gaze flicked to hers as they moved, the storm in his eyes unrelenting. I’ll fight beside you, not because we share blood, but because we share purpose. Let Reverie and her ilk think they can tame the sea. We’ll remind them why it’s always been untamed—and why it always will be.