[ Ironeye came to a stop, studying the god briefly. It was something he had kept only between himself and his guardian; to relay his answer to an outsider to their world was to try and sum up a lifetime with succinctness. His fingertips caught at the Forsaken's, a loose tangle of circumstance that somehow held. ]

I once belonged to a mercenary outfit. It was they who decided on my course of work. Their tasks, I fulfilled. The lives they coveted, I took. I could refuse, technically, yet... [ He rolled his armored shoulders in a shrug that suggested complications. ] What is the use of a falcon that will not hunt?

At the time, all I desired was to be free of them.

[ He gave the god a small bow, lifting the Forsaken's hand until it was within an inch of his lips. The glance of blue eyes through dark lashes. Something smoldered there, shaded and molten. ] Now, it seems, that alone is not enough.

[ Then he was straightening at the waist, loosing his hold. ]

...Does that satisfy?