Pierce
If trouble is what the Nova is looking for, well, Pierce can certainly provide it. Something nearly gleaming in his gaze says as much when the demigod acknowledges him and the bulkier, tank of a man flashes a crooked grin as if he can see straight through it. “Something in the water, hm?” He asks instead, boldly (because what does he have to fear from this dEmIgOd) moving to stand beside him, to lean over the edge of the bridge to peer into the depths below.
And ah, he sees it, but there isn’t fear there. There’s comfort, calm and collected, forearms thick like the trunks of trees resting against the rail of the bone bridge they stand on as he tilts his head this way and that. “Perhaps it has come from the Greatwood?” He suggests, tilting his gaze toward the Nova with that same crooked grin.
Perhaps they both have come from the Greatwood. Perhaps the creature in the water was nothing more than Pierce’s pet, come to explore along with. Who knows.
And ah, he sees it, but there isn’t fear there. There’s comfort, calm and collected, forearms thick like the trunks of trees resting against the rail of the bone bridge they stand on as he tilts his head this way and that. “Perhaps it has come from the Greatwood?” He suggests, tilting his gaze toward the Nova with that same crooked grin.
Perhaps they both have come from the Greatwood. Perhaps the creature in the water was nothing more than Pierce’s pet, come to explore along with. Who knows.
