if you were gay, that'd be okay!

Was he really so dense, that he'd missed the signs of something far more serious going on? It was hard to not feel guilty, not necessarily over what he'd said and how he'd reacted to Ignis's admission, but rather over how Corvus had taken in. He'd downplayed it, refusing to think it was anything more than something between the two of them. He'd dealt with struggles and inner turmoil, but true mental unrest like this he wasn't sure he'd ever faced before. He wasn't sure it was his place to notice the signs, but he still felt bad at the possibility there was something he'd missed.

"Hmm," Corvus hummed thoughtfully. Though he was concerned, he was visibly distracted, replaying his encounter with Ignis over in his head. And he couldn't stop thinking about Twig, knowing he'd have to tell her the truth in case something happened. "That sounds like a good idea." Nothing about this scenario was good, but maybe reaching out to their neighbors in regards to this might be a good starting point with the packs they hadn't established any sort of discourse with yet. "Hopefully just letting our closest neighbors know is enough."

Enough for what, he wasn't quite sure. To keep them on their toes in case something happened? Corvus didn't want to imagine that was truly a possibility, even if he wanted to be prepared for it. He nodded at her words - he had cared for him - but some things, in his mind, were unforgivable. Casting out an old wolf to fend for herself in the midst of winter was one of those things. Drifa had mentioned that he had a more violent vision for Winterfell in store too, another thing Corvus had no interest in associating with. The thought made him sick. "You're right. We'll get through this, together, as we always do." All he wanted now was to hold Twig close, and remember that what they had here was worth fighting for, endlessly, no matter what struggles came their way.