RONIN
Something definitely feels off in Torchline. Ronin has arrived by his compass, and so the difference in temperature (or the lack thereof, honestly) is instant. Usually by Torchline's standards, Flowerbirth is positively tropical, but this feels... moody, and not in the way of the approaching monsoons. He rests his hands in the pockets of his light jacket, choosing to keep it on as he approaches the Court of the Stars, raising an eyebrow up at the clouds overhead.
"Gods let this be nothing to do with the war or any relics," he mutters to himself, taking a deep breath and letting it out again before turning his focus for the reason of his visit. He isn't the type (right now, at least) to go hollering Maeve's name until she pops up, and so the Huntsman waits patiently before the healing fountain, having informed someone that he has arrived and if the Nightshade could come and find him whenever she's ready.
"Gods let this be nothing to do with the war or any relics," he mutters to himself, taking a deep breath and letting it out again before turning his focus for the reason of his visit. He isn't the type (right now, at least) to go hollering Maeve's name until she pops up, and so the Huntsman waits patiently before the healing fountain, having informed someone that he has arrived and if the Nightshade could come and find him whenever she's ready.
one more wish for you
