no gods no masters

Unsurprisingly, Hattori wasn't let alone with the old rocks and empty space for long. Her scent told Hattori all he needed to know, that she was indeed a Hallows wolf and considerably older than his own children. From the corner of his eye the Shogun regarded her with his typical, distant gaze that somehow said nothing but saw too much both at the same time. In terms of Boreas wolves she was rather plain and unassuming, her taller stature made up by mostly leg, but Hattori did not miss the keenness in eyes. Sharp and clever, like she and Hattori were alike at least in this regard.

Hattori blinked, only remembering to when his eyes started to feel tight around the corners. It wasn't a deliberate attempt to play into the secret and mysterious foreigner stereotype, it was simply part of who he was. The edges sharpened into spikes by years of conditioning, blood and tears. He knew the Hallows was a pack that offered sanctuary, but like all in the world he knew they'd encountered hardships too. That no one's life was ever as easy as it seemed, especially from the outside looking in.

"Hello." He rumbled, as if there was any room for him to say much else.