DESIGNER SCI-FI ☆ urgent visitor

[j a c k .]

When Trygrv had first approached the Pitt, he had said the words that his last names were just that- names. He fell into a useful member for the Pitt, and no matter his family, his trifle, he was a part of them now, and it was hard to distinguish the loyalty he felt to the people- ever present reminds that showed up at the borders in form of ghosts haunting his friends. Then there was the part of him loyal to the clan, It claimed this place as under his protection and Jack held himself to honor that protection.

Jack didn't know Roan, he had a flavor of salt, of fresh herbs and something that shouldn't be familiar, but herbs- life reminded him of Salem with the ever present vines that usually curled along his brother's legs. Even without Gael's words- the Ardent's voice cutting through whatever response would've elected from the Marauder otherwise- There was another hidden one that Jack refused to admit. Salem's- his brother's clanmate: Jack refused to attack on pricipal, the less amount of time that Jack spent angering that clan, the less the tension that would strike between them.

Still, there was less a matter of principal for his later loyalty to the clan, and more to the primarily one: Trygrv came into this clan mourning, angry and hurt. It was his own clan that drew him away, so he sought out another connection without such strings of loyalty to choke him with. Here- he was here because he wanted to be, not because his family was there. Not because of the guilt of pitting against his clan.

"now, hold on, Roan" Jack piqued, and he was small in comparison, only slightly smaller in comparison to the Ardent sure- but he didn't need his size for this, didn't need the winter present in his spine to press into his voice and make it [glow=#add8e6,2,300]Chilling[/glow]. But it was there, an ever preset reminder that Jack had been welcomed and worked within the Pitt well- violence such as that doesn't come artificially.

"It's up to the Pale blood if he wants to hear you out." The kodkod hummed out, and his voice were neutral, his body posture was lax, but it was a hunter's faux promise. Such a size, such a child-like youth. Jack felt his own claws bite into the sand under paws, and his smile was pearly fanged.