Herbalists' Cache hold my cup

his face betrays nothing as she appraises him with questions. affixing that beady, silver stare upon him that often and always sought to penetrate the deepest layers of his conscious. blackfell, kol, blackbird, uuts'taa—he is victim to it.

he affixes her with his own judgemental gaze for several long beats, then comes a scoff. characteristic of him, brushing aside her for his complex, turning upon thick shoulders.

i haven't spoken to gjalla. it is the truth. and he does not plan to speak to her until after they return from their trip. need i give her any reason to change her mind? words muttered quickly, coldly beneath his breath. he thinks star eater—no, morwenna—would enjoy that!

veksar is a grating topic. he had not seen his brother in several days, not since he left. blackfell tsks, teeth clicking, and he does not realize that he has begun pacing. i am not the boy's keeper.