we built this city on broken glass

His gaze continued to linger upon the woman before him in the wake of that sharp assurance he did not need her pity, those violet eyes watching her from somewhere beneath that forelock of white hair and yet he continued to appear for all the world as if he hardly paid her very much attention at all. This foolish girl who he would never understand. Who seemed to hold some eternal belief in the world, some tiny flickering sense of hope that was undoubtedly admirable and yet utterly wasted. She was frustrating to him, if only for what he believed to be her inability to see the truth of the world no many how many times it knocked her to the ground. Either she was an utter fool- or her sense of hope was far greater than any beings he had ever met. Perhaps it was a combination of both- if her negotiating skills were anything to go by and yet for now he afforded her little further comment as another head was snapped from another gingerbread man. Frost chewing in a near idle consideration before bluntly assuring her had had no interest in her father, in helping her with him, in hearing about him or even discussing him. The pet wolf of a deranged Hunter was of no interest nor value to him. What her Father did or did not know was irrelevant to his mind and besides, even if the wolf took some measure of displeasure at their own actions it would likely be Raven he came for and, as such, Frost hardly found he gave a damn either way. Her safety was Tetradore's concern, not his own. Perhaps she would get herself killed and give them both a break.

It was that sudden offer of help, however, that finally seemed to demand some reaction from the equine, his eyes slicing toward her. That look of genuine surprise seeming to find him then and yet it was near fleeting, that emotion hurriedly restrained and pushed back behind that mask of apathy he presented to the world at large. As if some part of him almost feared to display any sort of genuine emotion least it somehow be turned against him. Still, that offer of help was unexpected. Was the woman merely a glutton for punishment? Was she incapable of learning from her mistakes like some sort of evolutionary failure? Did she truly believe she could 'help' him? Why did she care? More so, how could she care, after all this time? Surely he had done enough to her to instill that disdain within her. Perhaps he had underestimated her on some level. Raven proving to be....unlike anyone he had ever met before. She was hardly a powerful being- at least in the physical sense, nor was she dangerously calculative in any sort of mental capacity. The woman lacking, he believed, a genuine ability for true manipulation or subterfuge, her affinities countered easily enough in turn and yet, it seemed, he had failed entirely to account for her capacity to.....care. It was almost laughable really, that her simple compassion might prove to be her most hidden and yet most dangerous weapon all at once. It had blindsided him- it unnerved him to some extent and yet his features remained impassive all the same. Frost merely content to stare near blankly at her as those very thoughts compacted within his mind. The man affording her a....mildly more polite response and yet that very avenue of consideration was closed near as quickly as it had been opened. That frosted exterior exposed to her once more as he redirected that conversation away from himself and toward that business once more. This an area he felt far more control within- not that such was truly difficult with her rather lacking negotiation skills. It was almost cute really, the effort she was placing in to so attempting to appear as if she were a shrewd negotiator. His words as cold and blunt as always.

"I cannot promise to tell you everything there is to know on them because there is every chance I do not know everything there's to know of them- I did not make them after all. I will answer your questions on them though. As for borrowing one I hardly need a week, an hour will likely do but a week it is. The rest is fine."

His form easily reclined back in that seat then, another bite of that treat taken as he regarded her more levelly, waiting as she made some effort to organise herself and present him with that wolf medallion that so normally belonged to her mate. The woman's hands proceeding to twist about in a nervous habit that betrayed any confidence she had, only moments ago, been attempting to exact. His gaze resting briefly on that engagement ring on her finger. Hmm, the Breadstick she called a mate must have finally decided to make a woman out of her. Frankly he was surprised the man had even been capable of giving her a ring. Still, he supposed, that amulet was of far more intrigue to him then her mates perceived inadequacies. The equine turning it over within his hands, his fingers brushing along that cold surface and that wolf so carved into its face. His gaze remaining on that object as he spoke.

"It is an Alpha Amulet, although amulet is not truly the right word, it is a...."

He paused, seeming to search for the right word as his fingers tapped against the wooden surface of that table.

"....I do not know the english word, exactly, it is Anda Galdur in my own language. A talisman of sorts, spirit magic, but not connected entirely to religion. Your english language has no word for it. In my culture there are many gods, each has his own role to play, but there are four gods of beasts. Freya, Midgard Serpent, Sleipnir and Fenrir Wolf. There are other, minor spiritual beasts, some of them are on your other amulets. Back when the world was new the four largest Were packs were each given an amulet crafted from spirit magic that represented their pack, to be worn by their Alpha. Each of them does something different and yet each is tailored to that animal. Sleipnir runs, Freya spies, Serpent hides and Fenrir fights."

He paused once more then, glancing upward, allowing the woman that chance to attempt to understand just what he was saying. The stallion so rarely ever affording anyone the depths of knowledge of his own culture in any sense. The man aware that she may yet not understand.

"These words around the outside are ancient norse. They are a riddle, in a way. Fenrir's amulet is a map. One that will not activate without certain steps being followed, or in the list, certain items being present. You may want to write this down, I will not translate this again. Are you ready?"

He paused once more, allowing the woman that chance to turn over a napkin and find a pen from a passing waitress, his gaze wandering over those ancient words.

"The sound of a cats walk, the beard of a woman, the roots of a mountain, the sinews of a bear, the breath of a fish and the spittle of the bird. They are what you require to break the chains. You may need a witch to help you with some of those. Collect them, assemble them and the amulet will activate. It will show you were to go."

FrosT