Dragoncrest Cliffs Siren song

Tousaint watched with a crocodilian smile as the stranger fled, quite chuffed that he hadn’t had join in the fray and risk being injured or worse- made ugly by scars and scabs. 

He stood, spared a brief glance for the older man who was clearly not Sapphique by blood (and would therefore  never escape the ranks designated to his like) and looked to the young one, seeing in those brilliant emerald eyes even more of his mother. He approached Lafayette when he was questioned, so they might share breath and scents.

I be no cousin, I be your brot’er, He said as he drew back. Tousaint, He said lightly, though he expected the word should have some weight; his tone implied as much. He expected that his mother had likely sung praise of him to his younger siblings; this young one should be bursting at the seams to meet him, he thought. He prepared himself to embrace fascination, adoration and admiration with dignity, but humbly turned to address the other man.

T’ank you for ‘elping my brot’er…My Mot’er will no doubt be pleased dat you ‘ave chased dat sea rat from de borders.