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Murdock’s eyes widened slightly in response to Phaedra’s wink as she slunk back from Lakota. Normally he would acknowledge such behavior, but for the sake of appearing professional, and to prove he wasn’t here to mess around, his expression remained focused yet neutral. The smallest hint of a smile formed on his lips as the Pegasus mare extended her wings in an extravagant bow, appearing to redirect the focus back towards Lakota. The mare’s coat was dark in the shadows cast by the tall trees, though the pale light of the moon shone through the closely knit branches overhead. She seemed unimpressed by Phaedra’s actions, but Murdock politely appeared not to notice.
He felt vulnerable and exposed with the roan mare's dissecting gaze sweeping over him, but this is was what he had expected. Of course they would have to be sure that he would be an asset to their group as opposed to a hindrance, and so he accepted their piercing stares without protest. He listened intently and with visible interest as Lakota spoke, absorbing her every word. "Of course. The Grey will have every ounce of my heart and soul; I swear to that." He held her violet gaze steadily, dipping his head to show that he understood. He was eager to be part of a family again, for it seemed like it had been hundreds of years since he had known the love of his own. He would devote his entire being to this group, if they would accept him, and he was eager to work as a mercenary once more.
"I was trained in physical combat, both on land and in the air, and it is what I would like to continue with. I will willingly fight for freedom, peace, and the wellbeing of the family," he promised, voice quiet and sincere. He had been brought up as a warrior in his father's fleet, and upon joining the 'army unit' he had risen to the rank of Captain. He doubted his credentials would be of much interest to them though; how would they know he was telling the truth? He was anxious to prove his worth and devotion to The Grey. The loss of his birth family left a tear in his heart; one that could only be healed by being a part of another, even if the scar would still remain.
His chin dipped in a nod after her final, sternly spoken words, a deep look of understanding in his eyes. There was an odd twinge in his chest, as everything she said reminded him of the rules enforced in his old herd. Loyalty was not a new concept to him, nor was the fight for justice. He hadn’t been in Helovia for long, and of friends and alliances he had few. He had been trained to kill to protect his family and to disregard all external relations that he may have; one couldn’t allow loyalties to lie outside the herd. What few, weak bonds of tentative friendship he had formed in his travels could all be done away with if that was what they required.
"Speak"
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