Bird tracks in the snow

He tilted his head at the question, thoughtful as he strolled down the snowy street, dredging up memories of a very different place. "There's not much to say, really. They lived deep in the Fangs and were very militant about not letting anyone trespass further into their territory. But they let us leave unharmed, once we agreed not to press them further." A curious group, and one whose motives remained strange to him, though their insistence on saving souls over lives struck a certain nerve.

Talk of monsters and other difficulties had him sobering a little, though he gave Weaver a wryly agreeing nod of his head at knowing the details of those dangers before rather than after they were met. "We'll just have to see how it goes," he admitted. "We can only prepare for so much without knowing exactly what to set defenses against." High walls did little good against enemies that could fly, for instance.

His smile became warmer at hearing that she would continue to travel and indulge her curiosity, always glad to find a fellow explorer. "Home is where the heart is. It's why I always go back to the Hollowed Grounds at the end of the day. But it's nice to have options, certainly." He gave a nod at the mention of finding a rhythm, hoping that Deepfrost in Halo would be safer than LongNight in the Grounds. Whoops.