If Calixte was looking for somewhere safe for him and his pups to stay, he certainly found the place. It was becoming increasingly obvious that The Pitt was no longer the warbound group that it once was, even if Dante (and Jormungand) were trying to keep people in line. There was only so much two guys could do by themselves, especially when it seemed like the leader was specifically looking for things to call them out on. Dante's lack of loyalty to Gael was pretty obvious - if not, the hybrid outright admitted to it during The Golden Eye's visit - and he made no effort to hide it. He wanted Gael to know he despised him, hated the laws he had placed down. This was not The Pitt Dante knew.

Lost in his thoughts, Dante found himself approaching the border where Gael was speaking with a stranger who introduced himself as Calixte Dimitre. If you're not looking to stay, fuck off. He wanted to say, but held his tongue; not only was Gael here, but Dante rather liked how the dire wolf was presenting himself. Guy had some guts, it seemed. Perhaps he would aid him and Jormungand to bring The Pitt back to its greater days.

"Dante Northwest." Dante introduced himself as he came to stand next to Gael, long tail flicking behind him.[glow=COLOR,1,400] ━ ✧*:･ﾟ[/glow]

[div style="max-width: 360px; font-family: palatino; color: #2e8b57; text-align: left; padding-top: 8px; padding-left: 10px"]HOW DO YOU RUN FROM Y[color=#5d8e93]OUR OWN MIND?

The petite deer-fox only truly lingered by the borders while gathering desert herbs.  Tucking her bounty inside the satchel harnessed to her side.  But when she spotted her father, the druid decided to trot over, quietly catching up to his side.  Pointedly ignoring Dante's presence entirely.

Aine flicked her ear.  Hazel hues flickering about.  While she ignored Dante, she had the distinct opposite hopes of him.  For more members who understood it was foolish to crave unnecessary bloodshed.  To only bring death and fire on their clanmates.  Stupid.  Better to be smart and save those claws for when they were actually useful, rather than picking fights with kids and curious strangers.

Funny enough, her father had actually brought her to the Pitt to be safe.  To be within the walls of a tough group.  Then again, he was in charge now.  And it wasn't as though they had forgotten how to use their claws.  They were smarter now.  Knew not to use them when uncalled for.  Most of them anyway.

The fae's wings shuffled at her sides, head dipping lightly in greeting before reaching backwards to adjust her satchel.  Didn't want any of those herbs to fall out.  "'m... 'm called Aine.  Aine Ní Broin," she murmured, tightening the harness.

© MADI