Mumma please

Basilisk huffed softly in wry amusement at his wife's words. Wrath indeed, tied to pride perhaps. His grandfather had created the Armada and the Fatalis to last, and that was exactly what they intended to do.


He wasn't so sure that a note would pave the way for Citadel. Artorias was an accepting wolf, he'd take the boy regardless, but if Art had any prior knowledge it might just scare Citadel off. “Well sit on it, they aren't going to head there immediately regardless.” He said instead, tired from the drama of the day. “I have to go speak with Balrog, I'll set the raid in front of him as his own personal project. It'll help him deal with the hurt.”