Shadewood the wood's labyrinth

Cormorant accepted the name like one a vow, bowing his head briefly again - half a nod, half something more. He extended a meager comfort, Not a name I've heard anything like before. It is poetic in its oneness.

That much was a truth, given his propensity to have traveled as both young and now, it was a sound unlike one he had heard before. It was just as unique as the dark man stood before him. He spoke next with a stagnant woe, ears tipping aside before righting again, Suited my parents better, I am but their inheritor.

Cormorant continued, answering at least part-readily, But it's my choice now. I found the long road kinder than the past following me.

It was better left at that, pale eyes casting a look around them, as though the shadows of the wood had crept closer in his observation's absence. It faded then, his eyes back to Qvasir's face and frame, unwilling to leave the sight unattended for long. They had both extended olive branches, but it wasn't enough to let him close at arms - a wariness of one cynical.

sorry on the delay;