Washed away

Oleander chuffed through his nose as she dryly remarked on the title of Songbirds. He had similar feelings for it, something along the lines of masking its true purpose. A pretty name for a servant's rank. But Bas had his reasons and he wasn't going to remark on it out loud to him.

"Mind the sarcasm around The Warlord." He seriously, Bas was a stoic and no-nonsense individual. And while Ollie had a penchant for grating under orders, he didn't want her to get her ass handed to her by Bas for a sly comment.

He snorted at her question if this was an infirmary, "Looks like it doesn't it? Nope, we're still building that somewhere. This is typically my room. My brother is in the other room." He had a separate bed of furs by the door he had set up for his sleeping arrangement while she occupied the room. Maybe he could ask Bas and Ignita if they could put a couple of the unused dens together to make an infirmary.

"But if you do well, and work hard to be part of The Armada, we could eventually talk about letting you gain a proper rank and your own den. What skills do you have?" He asked.


"Speech!"