Something in Deacon's words put a sour taste in her mouth, stirring a swell of anger in the pit of her stomach. It was a feeling that used to be so familiar to her, but she hadn't felt it in years, so why now? Why did he have to wait until she'd finally achieved her goal to show his face, and remind her that it wasn't the intended one? Bright eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly, and she bit back her response. "I thought you were going to lead the Ridge." It was childish. She knew it before the words even left her lips, but the man had somehow managed to strike a long forgotten nerve.
"I think maybe I should leave. No one's recognized me so far so I don't know what makes me think anyone else will." He admitted letting a bit of defeat slide through. This was all so very pointless.
Through the forest, his large form crept, already impatient for the nighttime shadows to swallow Relic Lore whole to signal the end of the day. His ears perked up as he honed in on the bits of conversation between Celandine and a male that should have been familiar. Near-silent footsteps navigated the edges of the Lagoon, his silver eyes making contact with the white queen before focusing on the dark-furred rogue's back.
It wouldn't do to fight with him anymore. She had nothing to gain, and he was a brother to three of her packmates. With that in mind, the ashen queen took a breath to steady herself, and tried a different approach. "Morganna will recognize you." Whether that would prove to be true or not, it was all Celandine could say to keep the man at their borders. "And if not, then Skoll is here too. One of them will recognize you." Again, she might have been lying, but this was only her problem until one of the Archer siblings showed up. "Wait for them, Deacon."
His oldest siblings had not been a thought in his mind for some time. He knew he used to look up to them with a fondness. Not the same one he held for his parents but they had seemed just as great in their own aspects. Although he was baffled that perhaps his eldest brother was not in the Ridge, holding the throne his father once had. The bafflement was hidden under a neutral mask as he gave a sharp nod.
He would not wait for long, though. While he didn't have a clue on where he was going he did know he wished to leave the south once these formalities were all wrapped up with a neat little bow.
Little did he know who was staring at his back from behind...
He prowled forward, his voice reverberating towards, up and over his brother as he came to join Celandine's side, "Well, well, now..." As was customary, he ducked his head to lightly graze his canines against the woman's chin in affection and a sign of respect. A bite but not quite. If anything, it was as if he had moved to clasp his jaws around her muzzle from below but didn't. To an untrained eye, one might suspect it uncharacteristically coy.
Straightening, Skoll leveled his shoulders with his superior and as his eyes raked up and down his younger brother's equally large frame, his words coolly slithered from his lips, "Become quite the prodigal son, haven't we?"
The thought, as quick as it could come along, suddenly struck him like lightning: oh yes, it was Asriel that he had killed for.
Celandine's gaze flickered from Deacon's inky mass to Skoll's as he emerged, and remained locked there as he approached. Something in his movements sent a shiver down her spine, and another as he neared the underside of her chin. The feeling wasn't unpleasant, though she had expected it to be. Whatever that meant would have to be determined later. For now, the alpha was most interested in the brother's exchange.
As the words fell from Skoll's tongue, Celandine found herself having to force the corner of her lips down. It wouldn't do to smirk at the retort, and ruin the moment. Instead, she chose to wait silently, and let her... lover? do the talking.