Northstar Vale i'd rather have this empty seat by my side

A sole lead was not summoned forth from the chasm, but a quadruplet - an array of faces, anticipated and not. Eyes, those portals of arcane irradience, brushed upon each indiviual with a careful, calculated sweep. An audience to greet his oration... ought he to be charmed? Intimidated, perhaps? He was neither; apathetic he remained.

A man of frosted tenebrosity, bathed in silver - the first to emerge from the thickets. To be faced with a revenant of past ceased to be unheard of, but abnormal it remained. Admittedly, the other was barely recognisable from those unlit memories, but Aries was a man of wordless thought - although he may choose not for lips to part, he failed to forget a face, however aged or scarred it had become. Odd, perhaps, was this - adolescent wards, faced once more, but after the moon had passed a great many times, and their figures had truly warped into their own. Aries had shed his former moniker, the falsified alias of Neo, and remained no longer a ward of Nyx - nor did he care to revive a quiet fued from youth. In another time, perhaps he might've leapt upon the idea, but no, he had not trekked these paths for Khalil...

Eidolon of scars. This was who poured forth from the kingdom next - a woman of hiemal hues, commanding implicit control in the graceful detachment of her countenance.

But then, then, it was she --
Tundra.

Starborn gaze dove toward her lips, as they twisted into a smile - remaining free of satire or coy simpering, and he bathed in her attendance as though vision alone was drugging to his tongue, and his eyes, and his mind alone. A dusting of stars, she presented to him in the watching of her stygian, honeyed eyes; he savoured it. Lips of his own twitched in musing, casting back a smile of his own, genuine despite the haunting of a pockmarked visage.

Hardly did he ackowledge the final presence, ensnared in traps of Tundra's inadvertant creation, but he would not bypass the vision of russet at the corner of his eye.

Now befell his least favoured part - the starborn had naught to prove, but present he must, as was the way of the wolves. And play their game he would, if it may grant him ingress; access to what he desired. "I seek a place among your ranks," he recited, voice as thick and gravelly as forewarning thunder, a dip of his chin to follow. "If you will have me. Mercenenary," he gestured to himself, "and I'll pull my weight."