Silver Moraine Wearing a Warning Sign

Ooh. She didn’t seem quite so pleasant now. They did enjoy poking at things on occasion, but it was only really happening – and working – here because everyone else had just been so polite thus far. Genuinely polite too, at least as far as they could pick out, not any of this. And they didn’t start any drama unprovoked. Anymore.

And they hadn’t even tried to poke things, either. She called them demands, but it did seem like the bare minimum you could do for the followers you were gathering was prove to them that they would be gathered for a decent reason. Renard would never be caught leading anything – that wasn’t for them – but they had standards, right?

Truthfully, they weren’t sure this would even convince them, but Renard was always up to be – no, that was a lie, they hated being surprised.

They hummed, as if mulling it over.

“Well, if you still don’t have a claim or followers…” Renard slanted their head to the side. “Then show me you can fight, at least.” The moment it escaped their mouth the question of whether that was the best idea spoken to a potential cannibal hit, but, well, too late to turn back now.

It would be interesting, either way.