Creative Intent

Oath’s ears flicked at the name. Zagan Saxe. The Syndicate. His interest piqued as well, though he kept his expression measured, betraying nothing beyond mild curiosity. He met Zagan’s sharp gaze with a steady one of his own, letting the firelight cast playful shadows over his reflective horns and cyan eyes.

“Norad?” he mused aloud, his tone thoughtful, though there was no trace of recognition. “No, my family and I are strangers to these lands. Our traces here are only recent, leaving no legacy of conquest or rebellion behind.” There was an undertone of curiosity in his voice now, mirroring Zagan’s darker intrigue.

When the heir of The Syndicate shifted the conversation, Oath’s lips twitched upward into a faint smile. “Carcasses on the border? Bold, but effective, I imagine. Few would question the message.” He left it at that, unwilling to reveal whether he found it morbid or clever. Perhaps both.

His gaze dropped briefly to the clay beside him. “The basin is for Scylla, the Sovereign of Obscura,” he said simply, his voice softening. “It will hold a special brew of Spirit Tea, the recipe something unique to my family - in return for her generous permission to allow us to visit her beautiful territory. I plan to propose to my mate, you see - and Scylla has agreed to allow me to use the Falls as our venue for such an occasion.” He paused, studying Zagan more closely now that he had finished his craft. "Have you ever visited? It is quite breathtaking."