Qeya River i like it when the bite marks cut through the skin.

blackfell is not bothered by the lack of bloodhunter rank. not the way gjalla seems to be by it, tension tolling through her almost immediately.

blackfell ignores instinct to reach the woman. but cannot help the amused smile twitching at his lips; the way she is moved for him.

he chooses to look to sun eater and offer the man a curt nod, acknowledgment of the name. blackbird. uuts'taa. it was strong, reflected who he was, and he accepts—there was no reason not to.

he had told the man he wished to learn the ways of the lanzadoii. truthfully, only for gjalla—but now… not even she seemed too convinced. and this unsettled blackfell.

but onyx man draws himself closer finally when the elephant in the room is brought up. whether or not gjalla had made her decision. he moves slowly, to gjalla’s side, looking to the chieftain with those red eyes. he says:

we have spoke. he looks to gjalla when he speaks next. she tells me she will have me.

so was this it?