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01-18-2017, 10:47 AM
Albrecht
“Blessed with a kiss.” He repeats, cocking an ear forward, intrigued by a hint of – well, something - in the boys tone, though he can’t quite decide if it’s teasing or ridicule. He arches a brow at the greys blind assumption of his cooperation, not something anyone familiar with him would do, but the confidence in those words and the whisper of something still as yet unspoken - something in the mention of favors, perhaps - piques his curiosity.
“Yes.” He starts simply. “Though the north harbors no love for me, nor anyone really.” The way he says it, he could be suggesting that the north doesn’t love him or that no one does. He doesn’t bother to specify, since both are true. He’s not even sure why he stays there, aside from the typical geriatric-opposing-change trope. The Basin is cold, a cardinal sin in his eyes, empty more often than not, and judging by the past year of activity – or inactivity – it’s the place where herds come to die long, drawn out deaths.
Still, the hot springs are what drew him in in the first place and what continue to comfort him through the long months of Frostfall. He’s also seen promise in the young Reapers son as General and both the Valkyrie and the Swagger-Ass, when they choose to grace the valley with their presence, make an enjoyable view of the barren slopes. He scoffs. “Everyone there is a warrior it seems.”
"And you? Do you have a herd? A rank? Master of floristry, perhaps?" He moves forward some, brushing a hoof through the remnants of roses. "A bit telling for a spy. Crafter maybe? You don't seem the fighting type." Overstepping boundaries is one of the blacks great talents, and so he doesn't stem the flow of thought seeping through his lips, only watches the grey, his emerald eyes following the lines of his body for reaction.
"Alby talks" 'Strom talks'
OOC // @Libertad
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