do something

The fight that had been so vivid in the man's eyes, was fading. Almost like a switch had been flipped. This did not dissipate Chip's worry, as he continued to trail his fingers along the other's spine.

The Keeper leaned into his First's hand, frowning when he averted his gaze. Carasson. He murmured, reaching to tip the man's face towards him, fingers coarse with many years of work and near-constant exposure to salt water.

But the way he tipped his face was gentle. Cara. What's going on with you? He brushed his thumb across the other's jaw, searching his features. I forgive you, and I'm sorry. You're always welcome in Varahel. He'd have to be dead before the clan turned Carasson away.

Talk to me? You've never felt so strongly about leaving the clan before. Have you? Anymore secrets you want to get out? He was starting to question if he knew his First; which certainly wasn't good for the clan hierarchy. But tonight... well.

Something was off. It didn't sit well with him. He'd noticed the presence of more spirits around Inala, lately, not that he had a chance to talk to Cara about it. To ask if he'd felt them, too. Some part of Chip wondered if it was his place to be concerned; how long could he play the Keeper card when it came to her? And after those outbursts, perhaps Inala was a topic best avoided for the night.