Ears perk, black rims fasciculating in the mist as they strain to hear through the thick air. Birdsong was warm this year, and combined with the fog and the wet ocean air, it left the air dense and heavy— though the King did not mind. For warmth was warmth, and he would forever prefer it to the cold seasons. Nostrils flare— and Elsa’s scent drifted into them. But had thought he had heard Alune?

A mild uneasiness settled in his barrel. Though it wasn't he that should be mistrusting or jealous… The Elephant shook his head slightly, trying to clear his mind. Though his steps were slow as he tried to settle and disentangle his thoughts. If the Seer was summoning the Goddess, then he had no place appearing with distracted, chaotic thoughts.

So, as he approached the source of the scents and sounds, a few figures materialized out of the mist. He long strides must have walked slower than he had thought. A short, annoyed snort at himself pushed out his black nose, navy eyes sweeping briefly over Alune, Erthe, and Elsa (his gaze wanted to linger, to watch, to plead with his Queen, but he could not let it with their patron deity present) before falling on the goddess. He resisted the urge to let his eyes sweep her curves, her wings, her slender shoulder (had not those wandering eyes gotten him in enough trouble, lately?).

Instead, he contained his eyes to study the Moon’s face— and though it was equal parts severe and foxy, it was wholly and destructively beautiful. “What is it you’d ask of me, Seer?” His hooves halted, giant body set away from the others, and he glanced to Alune. It had been a while since he had seen the Seer— though, he perhaps, the oracle would be immersed in the study and prayer of the Moon. He had been born into such a role in his previous lands, after all.

Though, as it were, the King had missed to opportunity to fully explain his desire to better protect the Edge. And so, despite the Moon addressing his Seer, he dipped his heavy skull low in a combination of apology and deference to the divine woman, “Goddess,” his low rumble started, “thank you for your appearance,” his great horn sliced through the thick mist as his head raised and navy eyes found the silver eyes in her lavender face. “We seek to protect the Edge’s borders once again. I had started crafting glass spikes at the northern borders, before I knew to ask both your assent and guidance. I would like them to encircle the Edge’s borders.” The deep roll of his voice ends partly in question, though his words were a statement.