Albrecht

The old bastard wanders in, green eyes rolling at the vehemence of the Lord and Lady's announcements. Again they proudly belt out claims of strength and unity, and again their target audience is embarrassingly thin. He wonders exactly how prestigious they think these ranks are supposed to be if just anyone can waltz in and say, 'Hey! I'ld like some armor and rank magic! Make me your Corporal/Thief/Weaver!'

The Valkyrie is as stunning as ever, of course - 'dat ass,' Strom provides in a comical imitation of the stallions thoughts - and the Reaper as menacing, but as with the previous years meetings he struggles to even remember the last time he's seen either of the leads patrolling or interacting with the herd. Where do they go he wonders, and do they go there together? Hotaru seems to be absent more often than Deimos, but that doesn't mean they aren't spending those long stretches of time away from the Basin in shared company. He turns, eying Erebos for a brief moment. 'No pink.' The python chimes in. No curves, the black agrees.

There's a new face in the tiny gathering, a young stallion full of confidence and supposed knowledge, as all young souls believe themselves to be. The elder simply shakes his beard, content to have a stranger and a fool for Corporal if that's what the illustrious leads desire. What does he care if the herd is invaded? He'll leave or switch sides, whichever comes easier and with greater payoff. It's hardly his responsibility to fix a herd that doesn't care to fix itself beyond empty words and grandiose postures. Still, if positions are just being given away...

"Promote me." He says simply, no explanation given. Why bother? They either will or they won't, based on merit or affection matters little to him, given that he posesses neither. "Also, I've been present for all of Kisamoas antics thus far. He seems benevolent right now, but he's drawing a hard line of blind faith as requirement for his favors. He gave us an outline of his mission in the name of the Earth God, but he could have a second agenda too. The price is right for a Kisamoa cult."

He glances down at the small dragon rushing from one side of the gathering to the other, stopping at each of the herd members hooves before dashing off again. One brow arches at the current Thief, whom he knows to be the creatures bonded from personally - accidentally - attending its hatching, before the streak of emerald comes suddenly to him, trilling loudly. His ears pin, but his muzzle lowers slightly in question, torn between wanting the noise to stop, understanding that already this young companion must have a negative impression of him - who doesn't? - and wanting to know what it is the little green has brought.



"Alby talks" 'Strom talks'
OOC // I didn't know if Sorcha would give him something or tell him to go fuck himself. XD