[@rechonq]

Falk regarded his fair folk that dared to approach him. For all the happening and the soured Moot. The Fall Kind mussed over his little options. Finally deciding on a route, his chiseled cheek on a fisted hand the Lord spoke. "Send out the word. My favor to those who bring me the names of Spring Fae. Leave Summer and Winter to chew at each other's throats, but let Summer know I am watching." His voice was similar to cool rain. The green gleam in his eye as Falk studied a perfect hand shone. Winds whipped about to carry his prior words throughout the Fall Lands and to Fall Fae. "The Moot has come and past, nothing of interest has happened. What news do you bring to me, faithful Fae?"