the potential of you and me

As much as Corvus wished he could drop everything and spend his days searching for Twig's nephews, he knew there were other things needing to be tended to. Mostly... the raid that was supposed to occur. Or anticipating it, at the very least. It had seemed a more pressing threat but as autumn drew on, winter beginning to cast the faintest (but still noticeable) tendrils across Boreas, Corvus was starting to wondering if it'd happen at all. Being prepared still felt important, even if not as frustratingly vital as before... scouting the borders was something he spent more time doing, worried that Winterfell had less-friendly intentions than what Drifa had originally spoken to Theory about..

But they couldn't spend every waking moment waiting nervously, could they? Though Corvus was definitely good at that, he was trying to keep himself occupied. Twig was a good distraction, one he found himself thinking about more and more lately, though he wasn't quite sure how to classify her feelings toward her. What he did know was that he craved her company when she wasn't around, and often found himself looking for her while patrolling the borders. Today, as he strolled across the sand, he was doing just that - veering toward her scent as it grew stronger. By the time he found her he felt a smile playing at his lips, and he didn't bother hiding it as he strode closer to her, closing the distance between them gladly. "Twig," he called out to her from a distance, not wanting to startle her. They were all on edge lately, Corvus included, and he didn't want to be a source of tension - even if accidentally.