Ouroboros Spine ᐊ avvik

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the mercenary goes very still beneath her touch. and he does not laugh this time, but instead grunts, rough and uncertain. just as uncertain as he is of the situation he has found himself in.

he is disarmed.

maybe. red murmurs.

he watches her fold the hide, the simple grace of her movements. it hits him harder than it should: the possibility of a simple life. the calm. the kinship. and that... that is something that he has always desired, above all else. war came, war went. lust brewed, and was consumed.

nothing appealed to him more than the concept of family, though. of pack.

when she speaks of this moon-child, ahna, and smiles, it almost draws one out of him. almost. and the crimson brute hums, a throaty noise.

he decides, then, that he will stay.

you will have your oil's worth. red rumbles. what is your name, woman of patience?

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