Postby Zabka » Fri Jun 09, 2017 5:14 pm
Zabka rumbles a low growl, silvery brow knitting in his displeasure, "The metal might be for wooing," he concedes, "They don't wear it and I bitten one to test, it didn't taste good..."
The shaman's gaze drifts to the darkening sky, contemplatively quiet for a moment before his thoughts are brought back down to earth by sounds of faint croaking. His hand drifts to a pouch at his belt, though his pale eyes return to Nohnahm, "Claim one?" he repeats, before asking simply, "Why?"