Qeya River judge and jury

aye. he responds, not allowing any flicker of one such emotion to shed upon red eyes. though his interactions with star eater thus far had been grim, there was no cause for... hm. disdain. the woman had her opinions, she held them close, and such a thing deserved respect.

at the very least, acknowledgement. in light of beginning anew, blackfell was willing to forget—to let lie, and forgive. clinging to the past would bring about destruction.

as snow and ice crunch underfoot, he dims into silence, letting his head hang between shoulders that twitch with pent up frustration. his wound aches, but it is a dull ache; he's felt worse, seen worse. he does not wish to be complacent, not when time flows so quickly and sweeps past one in the blink of an eye. the eye is fine. it is saved, so why must blackfell rest?

he does not rest. he grows weary. so, to sun eater, he says: i will learn of your people. this he is resolute in. in time. he pauses, with the tilt of his head. if you permit.