misanthropic drunken loner

With the kind of ambivalent succinctness that Pontifex had long since learned was simply the Shogun's way, the massive man told him that his cousin was doing better. A soft nod, two-toned eyes dropping down and to the left as he struggled to grasp onto some kind of reason to linger. When the Shogun prompted him with a question, as though demanding that whatever was brewing in his little head be brought to light here and now. Suddenly, the amethyst marked yearling was painfully sober, and the beginnings of a headache was throbbing in tandem with his pulse at the base of his skull. He was dimly aware of the irksome scraping sound that Hallux made with her beak whenever she wanted to annoy him into moving more quickly. It worked, even if he would never admit that.

"Can I come home?" the harshness with which the utterance was brought forth was decidedly out of character from the soft spoken, quiet young male. He'd forced it out before he could convince himself to stay quiet. A moment longer and he would have swallowed the words down and forced himself to turn away, wander back to his cave to rot. A few moments of silence, before he picked up the thread and clung to it like a lifeline. Old habits slid back into place, well trained eloquence rising to the occasion as he dared to try and make his case to the Shogun. "I've been learning to fight, and while I'm aware that I lack the skill of your children, I would work tirelessly to meet your standards... if you would have me, at least." here he found himself hesitating, because truly all he wanted was to return to the Shrine. To make his home in the place that was so familiar, and he would readily do whatever was needed to get what he wanted. Sell his immortal soul, slaughter heathens, move mountains. The price only needed to be named.

From her perch, Hallux croaked a soft chuckle. Wisened with age, she had seen this coming from a mile away.

"Pontifex" || "Hallux" || "others"