"I am Honed and Ready!"

Canon divergent RP blog for Cley Cerwyn from GOT, TTGOT, and ASoIaF. OC-Friendly, semi selective, mostly based on headcanons with canon elements involved. Please read the rules before interaction. Icon art belongs to peggyoung.

[the-cerwyn]

"If I am honest, I suppose back then, I never questioned it. I accepted my lot in life, and that was that. I had no taste for ruling, and no terrible ambition to try to claim it." Cley admitted, paying attention to Meghan's recollection of her brothers. Hallis had mentioned them here and there, but much like his own dead family, they were very much a sore point for the Brownbarrow family. He only imagined it was the same for Meghan.

"Vast, and many vassals sworn to those lands. And with Ironborn as our southern neighbors, you best believe we have our hands full." Cley said the last part with a dry laugh, referencing the raids. He did faintly smile and genuinely chuckle when she mentioned Hallis having a similar taste for it; he replied: "Would have been quite the sight if he and I had met at the Citadel instead." The Flint had a thoughtful look when Meghan had mentioned the glass gardens of Winterfell, blinking slowly, before he admitted to her: "Funny you say that... winter roses were my mother's favorite flower. I always tried to pick one for her whenever I visited Robb and his brothers back in the day. Growing old, tending to her favorites... doesn't sound half bad when you think of it in that manner." Cley didn't catch himself bemusedly smiling to himself as he explained this to her.

"...Yes, that they do. Jon intends to honor his alliance with the Dragon Queen. Larence Hornwood, Ulfric, and I have already committed ourselves to marching under Jon's command. Other bigger lords are still deciding, but the current jest is that we're attempting to recreate the Hour of the Wolf." He was direct with his friend Meghan, but held some humor in what could be history repeating itself with the North.

[the-cerwyn]

"Sometimes, we need to hear someone else say it. More than we think we do, that's for certain. I'm glad to have reminded you how reasonable you can be." Cley reassured her, gently relinquishing her child to her. He watched the boy play with the toys upon the floor, witnessing simpler times for the young man. He only hoped the child got to enjoy such.

"The path will not be easy, but it never is. But I can see why you would find this the most difficult rendition. For it is not fear of leading a house into ruin, but rather the fear of leading your son astray... I believe you will excel, Meghan, even if you have your doubts. Owyn will become the man he needs to be, like you've become the woman you needed to be." Cley paused to hear her initial request, prompting: "Of course you can." He listened to her words, nodding carefully, understanding where this came from. The Flint lord finally responded: "It was. Flint's Finger and its vassals loved my uncle. When the Red Wedding happened, they mourned openly, but they loved my mother just as much as him, happy to have a Flint hold the reins. When it came to me, it felt like they were still receiving the happy-go-lucky boy who loved to play upon the shores of Flint's Finger. I wasn't regarded well or truly respected until I defended those lands from the Ironborn; only then was I considered their equal." He chuckled after that, admitting to her further:

"Castle Cerwyn, despite being smaller, felt more difficult in that regard. There are reasons Ulfric more or less lords over it instead, adding that the Flint lands require my attention more. As for how I was raised... my ascension was not considered a possibility, or at least, was seen as a slim chance. So much so, in fact, I heavily considered joining the Citadel before the war, becoming a Maester. Would have liked to study and get chains for ravenry and medicine, especially. If that failed, I considered becoming a garden hermit for my uncle, Robin Flint."

[the-cerwyn]

"Busier than I am willing to admit," Cley confirmed to her, not willing to let her thought hang alone. "You've done an amicable job, for whatever it may be worth. Many in your situation have crumbled, yet you stand."

"...Selfish? Meghan, the North has asked so much of your family. Robb, the Seven rest his soul, asked your family to march South with him. Your father and brothers answered the call and paid with their lives. Jon asked your family to fight against the darkness; your family answered the call once again, and more of your family, as well as the father of your child, paid once again. With the service your family has provided, no one will ever be able to call you selfish; if anything, the North owes you a debt it cannot repay." Cley admittable got more fired up at her defense than he was expecting with the question, but his passion only focused on the truth. It was all that to say, he finally answered her actual question: "So no, I don't think it would be selfish of you. The Glenmores would understand, and those that do not can take a hike to the Wall. It is said a Northman's last thoughts should be of home; why can it not be the same during times of need as well? You are not running. You are seeking familiarity and warmth, which we all need."

[the-cerwyn]

"A true master of his emotions, even at a young age." Cley both jested but also complimented the younger fellow for being able to juggle his feelings. Northern lords tend to have one social emotion, and that is belligerence. Thankfully, he kept in contact with the less belligerent lords and ladies of the North. With Meghan's reassurance, Cley had carefully taken the lad, greeted him closely: "Hello there, Owyn."

While he was accepting the boy, with her consent, he pulled Meghan into a comforting hug with his other side. Adding a heartening pat on the back with his initially free arm, he replied: "It's good to see you too, Meghan. These interesting times have proven to be too demanding." After releasing her, the same free arm was there in case one arm wasn't enough for little Owyn, and, considering his supernatural nature, it was more just to humor the notion. He continued with Hallis' mention: "Friendly faces are unfortunately in short supply. But I always have time for my friends, as it should be." Cley offered a smile once again, very wary of dodging the pitfall that was pointing out that the reason the friendly faces were in short supply was because of the Long Night. "I'm afraid these halls reflect your turmoil in turn, of which no fault can be cast upon you. Do your good-siblings not aid in numbing the pain?"

[the-cerwyn]

In a lot of ways, Cley could understand the colder reception, even if it were by margins. Meghan and the youngest of the Glenmores always looked upon him with kind eyes, but the same could not be said for the other members. Yet, those were all dead, dying, or hiding away in grief. He supposed it mattered little, as he was only here for the aforementioned kinder ones, not the others. Yet he would be polite all the same, even with the steely, serrated edge he had tucked away.

After the necessary small talk with the steward, all the general manners expected with it, he approached the great hall, gazing upon the hearth and the familiar figure sitting down. She was radiant still, but her light had been dimmed; the death of the late lord Glenmore had its effect on her. He never cared for Namond, even death; he hopes he burns in the Seven Hells. But Namond never put his hands on her; if his tongue had been ripped out with fiery prongs, the marriage would have perhaps been golden. But he wasn't here for the dead man; he was here for her.

Cley offered a warm smile at the perceptive new Lord Glenmore, a very genuine one at that. Owyn was Meghan's child, not Namond's, and he would be treated as such. Besides, kids were typically innocent, and he had high hopes there wouldn't be a *speck* of Namond in the boy. When Meghan turned to greet him vocally and personally, the smile never faded. He approached with familiarity and respect, giving her space but not being too distant, as he responded: "I say the same to you, Lady Glenmore. As well as to young Lord Owyn. I'd give you a hug, but I fear squishing little Owyn." He said the last part with a chuckle.

[the-cerwyn]

"He was a victim, more than I. In the moment, he was an animal, being true to his nature. Whereas men and women alike betray their nature every day... You are entitled to your opinions and your right to exercise them, as should any lord. But you partially hate a corpse, and thus I invite you to look inward, and as a man of vast intelligence, to try to find the logic in doing so." Cley, although being firm in his retort, was not being unreasonable, just imploring the other to utilize his renowned sense of knowledge to acknowledge it was entirely unnecessary to hold any sort of ill will to the deceased Robin Flint, partial or otherwise.

"There is no known cure, other than death." Cley admitted, answering Hallis' theory, before continuing: "It's the reason why he never married. He didn't have solid evidence, but from what little he could learn about Skagos, it is very likely that this curse is hereditary." A notable pause before he continued: "With how rampant it is on infection alone, I imagine it just takes a singular werewolf parent to ensure all of the children of a coupling would all be natural-born werewolf cubs... As if my marital status wasn't already profoundly unsettled." A dry chuckle.

[the-cerwyn]

"All we're missing are the unicorns. If they're to be found, I have no doubt both Elayne and Jilleen will be overjoyed and pester me to obtain a pair for them." Cley cracked a small smile at the thought, knowing the girls would love nothing more than to obtain the unobtainable. He had cannibalism down to the letter, and witchery sounded exactly like what the red woman and the Others were doing during the Long Night.

"From his journal entries, at least a decade at the time. He... He fought the urge to consume. When... I spoke of his kindness to you; it wasn't just that he was a fine lord and amicable brother, it was that he refused to inflict that transgression upon his fellow man as well." There was a notable pause, then he admitted further: "The longest I've gone without is three months. I can't even fathom ten years. From his journal entries and our last conversation, he battled that hunger as best he could, failing at times and feeling guilty when he did. If I had to presume... during Robb's campaign and before such, he was resisting. And then the Red Wedding was the perfect storm, forcing him to become the beast to survive. He said he lost himself. And I imagine whoever didn't die in his jaws began following him after being bitten. There's... a certain pull the alpha has over the pack, whether intentional or not." Another pause, before finishing his theory: "Even in his state, he managed to find his way home. And found prey in native and invader alike."

Cley placed his tankard off to the side, no longer thirsty, if he ever was during this conversation. He quietly replied to Hallis' final inquiry: "He could have killed me when the captain left the blade in my belly. The first bite was a taste test, but when he reared back his teeth, we exchanged eye contact. I swear by the Seven, I could see something there. Like he recognized me... then he forced himself to dart off." Cley coughed, clearing his throat, not exorcising the lump there. Then he added: "I was not granted the same mercy the next time we met, as I believe the previous neglect of his condition had deteriorated his control into nonexistence... He was aware the entire time, but unable to control himself. He was aware of what he'd done and what I did to him."

[the-cerwyn]

"I've heard similar tales of Skagos, but I have not been. Perhaps there exist packs there, and perhaps one leaving was the cause of the Flint land's crisis event." Cley nodded slowly back to Hallis, citing that he had heard similarly. He remembered when the Lannisters, during the war, spread rumors that the Starks could change their skin and become wolves; little did they know that some Northerners were able to do so. But he was more wolf than the Starks.

"Ah." The word was simple, but there was the weight of the world there. He continued, slowly: "We put the pack to the sword, Hal, because we had to. I never got to meet them properly, learn their names, learn their stories. But I recognized the pack leader after I embedded a silvered mirror shard into his chest. His form shifted back to his true state as he had begun to die there." A long, harrowing pause. Then he spoke: "My uncle. Robin Flint. Who we all thought perished at the Red Wedding."

[the-cerwyn]

Even if it was Hallis, he was half expecting fear-laden disappointment, richly deserved in the eyes of a great many if they knew. But his brain had tricked him like before, and the epitome of understanding and curiosity that was Hallis looked upon him no differently than how the conversation had begun. Cley Flint was not always an easy man to call a friend, but Hallis managed to do so consistently despite this. Cley managed after the squeeze and words: "You mean everything to me, Hal. I'm glad to have met you; you've enriched my life for the better."

He earnestly didn't believe he deserved Hallis, and in a way, as Hal had just alluded to, he could never have him in a different way. Their culture, their way of life, and their responsibilities refused it. And he had no wish of dishonoring Hallis, nor his cousin Demelza, for he loved them too much. He loved him so much that he had to keep quiet about part of that love that should never be spoken. A different life? For them? Wrong realm, wrong era, wrong people, wrong everything, unfortunately.

Cley nodded in understanding, subtly and silently letting Hallis know he understood completely and accepted the fair acknowledgment. As the other looked away in shyness, he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, knowing quite a bit was getting aired out in this conversation. Thankfully, Hallis asked another question, to which he responded: "Hm, surprisingly not. I doubt the temporary alliance I mustered culled all of them from the North, but pack-wise, I don't know if any dwell in the North. Might there be the odd lone wolf, but they don't let themselves be known. Likely living the lives of vagabonds or hermits, alone."

[the-cerwyn]

"Like I said, I only got to use the hybrid form before slaying the alpha. I could have very well taken the form of a regular wolf before then, but now we'll never know." Cley offered a small smile at that, agreeing with his friend, but ultimately knowing the theory could never be proven otherwise, for none of their own fault. Left a mystery to both of them.

"Very well." There was a grave, but fair tone to his voice. He started: "Firstly, the simple one: Silver. How steel goes to your flesh does silver go to mine; it does not heal. At least it heals much more slowly. But most of the world's silver is in the form of trinkets or utensils. We had to melt down a great matter of Flint's Finger's silvered cutlery back then to fashion quickened silver weapons for our expedition. We have such stored in our armory, in case another outbreak occurs." He glanced long and hard at Hallis before exhaling from his nose, continuing onward: "Secondly, the complex one: the dietary need for meat. Not. Just. Animal. If it were, I would not mention it. Think of it like... the drink you desperately need when you awaken, to quench your mouth and throat. Before you... frighten, which is your right. Know this: I've never eaten an innocent person, nor women or children. Just brigands and the enemy soldiers. Boltons. Karstarks and Umbers, who were aligned with them. I take great and utter pain to make sure no one pure reaches my teeth."

[the-cerwyn]

"I heard about that. Fat lot it did the poor Forresters in the end, did it? You were as cordial and accommodating as you could be in a situation like that. It says a lot that, among the 'wise' elders there, you were the sole voice of reason. This 'Wolfswood Brotherhood' should reevaluate itself." Cley seemed more agitated by how the meeting had treated Hallis overall than by the conflict's outcome. And if you had asked Cley, he had his priorities underlined by a wide margin. He took on a softer tone to highlight that he understood where Hallis was coming from: "One cannot compare suffering. Do not fret, Hal, I know what you've endured, you've been tested by the crucible, same as me."

"It's one of the reasons I stand before you, Hal. A great boon during the several battles you've heard me partake in." Cley answered in a very accommodating manner, before admitting: "I imagine it's magical in nature, due to the fact that magic negates it for a time, if we presume that is what the Others were. The ice weapon of the one I fought during the Long Night created a wound that didn't heal until after the battle."

"A slower version of what you may have heard during the battle. Your muscles twist. Your bones snap into places they should not be. Your skin bursts, and your very blood is forced out. I've done it many times now, where the process is quicker, but no less painful. You feel every second of it. As for when I had to hold it in... Like having daggers embedded into your chest mentally, having to walk around with that feeling. " He paused, letting that sink in, before sharing some more for his newer questions: "Empowered scent, hearing, sight. Better perception, one might say. In this form, and the others." Cley let that sit in for a couple of moments before addressing further: "I can take the form you saw that night, and the form of an adult dire wolf. But why I believe both forms are so impressive is that I killed the alpha in single combat. The... 'hybrid' form wasn't so imposing when I first turned."

There was a notable pause when Hallis asked about drawbacks. He asked, quietly, but unwaveringly: "One is simple, the other is complex. I know you normally would not, but I beg you not to look differently upon me as I explain the more complex one, as it is why I call it a curse."

[the-cerwyn]

"Ah, well, I'm afraid the two available Red Priests died during the Long Night. Well, actually, I'm not sure if Lord Dondarrion, his Lord of Light rest his soul, was a Red Priest or just a convert. He swung that fiery blade with conviction as one." Cley mused, knowing it was borderline impossible to question one at this given time. He halted his tangent and went back to the matter at hand, speaking of their beloved Branches: "You know those two. As smart as a whip. Perhaps they know, perhaps they do not. But I err on giving them credence and just keeping quiet."

"Well, a bit of both, honestly. Harlaws on my west, Boltons, refusing to lift a finger, on my east. This was only an addition." He chuckled dryly at that; a lesser man would have died. He was no longer just a man. Cley then answered his question slowly. "Bitten." He paused. "The Ironborn raider I mentioned stabbed me through the belly, purposely through a non-vital area. As I patched myself, the alpha-- yes, wolfpack termology, attacked me and bit my right shoulder." With his free hand, he peeled away the cloth on said shoulder, showing a faded bite mark. "I did not transform immediately, but the benefits arrived soon after. My stomach wound and the bite healed in minutes. I managed to stave off my first transformation by pure will until my final confrontation with the pack alpha. By that point, it was a full week since I had been bitten."

[the-cerwyn]

"I certainly hope so, Hal... I owe the man quite a bit. I'd say even my life, but that's a difficult one given what I am." He offered a tired, almost pained smile with that. Without taking certain steps, he was a difficult person to remove. And he closely guarded them for the benefit of the North. He would rather be the only cursed creature with this profane knowledge, or else it would spread rampant as it did previously.

"I think we'd need the expertise of a septon or a red priest like that woman in red during our last battle on the matter of my soul," Cley answered with a spot of dry humor, knowing the Old Gods had no priests to speak of, and the closest adjacent would be the Faith of the Seven. He answered the first question with relative ease: "Kyle knew. Demelza and Garath... might have an idea I'm not normal. Some of my men know, my honor guard. An ironborn captain who's a rival of sorts to me... I think he knows, too." Cley's face when mentioning the last one befret to Hallis that reasoning was a long story. He looked thoughtful at the next question, before answering with a chuckle: "Goodness... 301AC? Four years ago. It was when I defended Cape Kraken from the Ironborn, around the time the Ironborn were raiding all of us nonstop."

[the-cerwyn]

"Even if Galbart Glover were still alive, the term of solid evidence would still need to be discovered. We cannot take the example of what the Starks did to the late Lord Petyr Baelish. Happenstance and gut feeling have no place in courtly judgment, even if the rumors of Bran being capable of the ancient art of Greensight or something similar are true, reliance upon it allows for a manner of foreign and local magic to be allowed in the justice system." He was not denouncing his friend's suggestion or his assessment, but pointing out that even with the late lord present, factual evidence would still be hard to come by. He also found the usage of false or fabricated information to be in poor taste, as the trial of Littlefinger seemed to be when he was present for it. Sure, the Vale man was snide, but did he deserve to die for being smug and satisfied? He continued to the topic of the current Glover lord, citing in a firm (never toward Hallis, instead the topic) but affable tone: "If disagreeing with Jon was a pastime, I think many of the lords would be partaking in such. But even if you disagree with his actions or ideas, the man did right by recruiting the Dragon Queen and her draconic children to the cause. Dragonfire gave us the edge that night; none of the lords who stayed home did in the slightest." Yes... Yes, he was bitter.

"I will not deny such. I did not know your uncle properly, but he fought for what he believed in. Stood by it till the very end, many cannot say the same." He was... aware of Willem's actions, but knew that he fought for and died by Hallis' side until the bitter end. So he could excuse them or, at the very least, forgive them as a stranger can. He met his eyes truly when he mentioned being one of his saviors. There was a pause before he genuinely admitted: "...I didn't want you to die. Harbinger of death, I might be; I have a preference for saving lives instead of ending them. My sole regret is that I could not have saved more people there." His voice reached a quiet, unearthly tone in response to Hallis' question of equity, as if storing an idea for later: "Not fair one bit... not fair at all."

"There's nothing to forgive, Hal. We all lost that night; it would be imprudent of me to demand focus from you." His voice was a quieter tone as he responded to his friend on the matter, trying to meet his gaze as the other bowed his head. "Many men could live countless lifetimes and never reach the standard he held himself to. I always looked up to him... even now, I still do." He wanted to tell him. Wanted to let him know the truth, to let someone in, and let them know what sort of pain was going on. But to do so would spit in the memory and the sacrifices both his mother and father had to make in his name. He was a bit surprised by the gesture, but used his other hand to gently pat the hand of Hallis that squeezed him, replying: "I feel it in my soul, Hal... I don't even know if I have a soul anymore due to what I am. But even if I don't, then I feel it in my person, in the very bowels of my being."

[the-cerwyn]

"Oh, I think there's nothing wrong with compassion and empathy, I think them to be the finest traits a person can ever hope to have... It's when those aspects become borderline suicidal that I find them irksome. There's a term that Maester Rhodry uses: suicidal empathy. It's a form of compassion that's so self-destructive... as the name implies, it leads to your death." He tapped his fingers along the cup, before admitting: "My uncle was not that, and I make great strides to not fall down that gaping pit. Empathy is amazing... in the right doses."

"I'm afraid I didn't know my grandparents on my mother's side. Perhaps they have a hand in how she came to be; perhaps they did not. They did so well with Robin and my mother; I find it hard to believe they caused her to be as she is now. Especially in a culture in which we dote and focus on the youngest, at least in the current generations available." Cley could only shrug before admitting, "The only ones with those answers are dead or Jocelyn herself, and if she's barely willing to humor either of us as is, it would be more so if questioned about the matter of how she came to be." He was thoughtful of Hallis, making reference to records kept, before addressing: "My uncle kept several journals, of which I have read. But the topic of family rarely arises. Its primary subjects are those that I believe you intend to ask me later in this conversation, so no use to you for the current topic." A cheeky smile.

He refilled his own cup before answering further: "When we Flint's set our minds to something... we often get it done, no matter the cost. Whether it be personal or moral. I was averse to killing before I had to repel the Ironborn from Cape Kraken, but when I saw my people suffer, I got used to it quicker than someone should have." On the fact of killing an innocent woman, Cley wanted to give his aunt, as horrible as she was, the benefit of the doubt. He took a sip and tried to process what his friend said next, sipping slowly as he mulled it over. Kyle? Jocelyn was damned near lucky that Kyle Condon was a man of virtue and a knight of the seven kingdoms, else he would have backhanded her so hard her head would have flown over the Wall—Oh, he meant Medger. After blinking for a moment and swallowing, Cley answered his friend as best as he could: "Could be for locational reasons. Castle Cerwyn is closer to Winterfell. With how she acts, do you think the Starks would turn a blind eye to unruliness? Do you think the Boltons would have put up with her mischief? She would have simply taken my mother's place on the flaying cross months earlier." He looked a bit haunted by his mentioning of what his mother's fate was, before steeling himself and continuing: "The Wolfswood... was the ample place for her to try her hand. I appreciate the woods clansmen, but much like the mountain clansmen, they are more secluded than the average Northern house. In which 'drama', such as poisoning, remains as 'supposed' rumors. Could she have aimed higher and succeeded? Yes, perhaps. Would doing so put many more eyes on her misdeeds? Yes, absolutely it would."

[the-cerwyn]

"Then the realm is lesser for his loss... Frankly, I'm not as spiritual as a Northman should be, but I am of the belief that hopefully down the line, he gets another chance as another person." Cley nodded very slowly, knowing that family will always be a sore point to speak of, even when positively. He continued: "I don't know what to refer to it as, but it's my unproven belief that some people get to come back and try again. Maybe they remember pieces of who they were, but they're mostly an entirely new person. Get to live the full life they never got to." He sipped his cider after that, feeling comfortable sharing such an unorthodox belief with one of his best friends. Cley added, "Not much to say about my siblings, nothing good to say. If anything... You and Garath are more my brothers than my actual brother was to me."

"I thank you two for understanding. I would if I could have..." Cley had admitted to Hallis, feeling some guilt about not having attended, as he did appreciate Myriame for never relenting in her beliefs and for being the best sister she could be to her siblings. He cracked a tired smile, then citing: "Sounds like Garath, man's as stubborn as Myri when he sets his mind to it. I'm glad he got to be there; he needed the closure." Upon hearing the music rendition, he commented, "That's one of the nicer songs that could have been sung. I think you're right, it would have shattered even the most stony of hearts with its usage."

Cley listened carefully, taking note of every physical and mental reaction that Hallis gave when he regaled him with what had happened exactly during that day. It was almost indiscernible what he was perhaps thinking about as he stared onward, studying every spoken word and every unspoken word of the matter. The only thing he said before being questioned of his aunt was in response about Garath's disposition at the meal: "If Garath were here, I'd think he'd agree that a dinner knife would be too kind for the likes of Lord Harlow Branch."

"...Frankly, my mother always warned me to not humor her like my uncle Robin would. I think when I became Lord of Flint's Finger, and she saw that she didn't have the same sway over me as she did with her older brother, I was another bridge to ignore." There was no sadness in his voice over the matter. Cley had grown coldly accustomed to people attempting to use him; he was numb to such attempts anymore. He took a long swig of his drink, draining it after listening to Hallis speak, finishing to continue: "My mother seldom spoke of her sister, but what little she did was in a tone of caution, even when speaking of what childhood memories she did share in simpler times. My aunt was one of mischief, perhaps innocently back in the day, but not these days." He stared at his empty tankard before admitting, "My uncle Robin spoke more of her than my mother did. He saw her as a wayward sister who occasionally needed help; he felt it was right as a good older brother to lend a hand when needed... I look up to him, my uncle, and I adopted his generosity and cooperative nature at a young age. So while I love my uncle, I fear his accommodating nature toward her allowed Jocelyn to nurture her darker nature, since she had a powerful lord brother to fall back on. When I took the reins, I proved she did not have a powerful lord nephew she could rely on, because my mother warned me."

[the-cerwyn]

"I'd rather not see Rickard off to war; your family's seen enough of it, I don't want it to be a burden he has to inherit." Cley solemnly noted to Hallis, wanting the best for the younger Brownbarrow. And for the rest of the family, obviously. He just had a notable soft spot for children was all. He laughed, jesting: "Or perhaps it'll fuel his dreams! Making him more than certain of his path... I joke, obviously, I'll try not to fill his head with ideas that are not already present."

Unfortunately, Hallis' words seemed to reinforce Cley's thoughts on the matter, not by Hallis' fault, but by hearing another felt the same. Still, he reined himself in, stating, "I'm just glad I'm not the only one who feels this way! It's good to hear it from someone else's mouth." Alright, he was trying to rein himself in. He continued, "I think that's also what was holding me back. Meghan is a dear and grand friend; it was by her grace that I put up with the man. It is by her grace that I don't utter a word of this anywhere near her because she is very much grieving." He tacked on, commenting: "I did not know your brother, but he seemed to have that nugget of wisdom to him, at sniffing out a sickness."

"Thank you kindly." Cley thanked both the temporary castellan and his lordly friend, taking a flagon for himself. He sipped upon it, nursing on it as he was hearing Hallis speak of Meghan, of Demelza, slowly realizing the topic he was referring to. He should have been upset that he wasn't invited to Myriame's farewell; they didn't have the best introduction, but that only reinforced their friendship with him and Garath's. But when it happened... he was tending to Ser Kyle, he wasn't at the right headspace for another funeral. But when he heard that final tidbit, he stopped in the middle of his sip, eyes crawling over like a creature of the night, but not at Hallis, rather what he had said. Cley responded stonily, finding this completely unacceptable: "They did what now?"