Strel's appearance was both a pleasantry and a relief; as a newly appointed Baron--once more taking another step from Noss in the ranking, something that the grey man sought to rectify soon--he would have the power to grant these foreigners access, which took a load off of Noss's shoulders. Strong as the man was, he couldn't fend off so many wolves had they been true intruders. Instead, Strelein seemed more intrigued than worried. At the hand on his arm, Noss was very much used to it, and so took it in stride as he smirked at how his paramour looked at the caravan. Noss knew that look; it was one of sheer, cunning interest, that which the redheaded tailor most often showed when he was sewing or sorting through his materials. Like when Noss had been allowed to stay in Cour des Miracles--back when he had been searching for Ralla--Strelein welcomed them into the land with the same conditions before ever-so-tactfully beginning the trading negotiations. Noss shook his head as Strel seemed to go off to immerse himself in the items that the Cercatori d'Arte pack had brought. He, too, went forward after a skeptical minute to browse, nodding in thanks to the russet-haired alpha. Surely, even if he couldn't find something that interested him--which he doubted, since he knew that Ralla would enjoy something in there, and maybe even Strel--the others in the Court would find something to please them. Back in his home tribe, when the gypsy luperci had come, it had always been a treat, even when Noss had grown into an adult. He was looking forward to the opportunity for this to be the same. Warrior walks. "Warrior talks." Warrior thinks. |
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