Altar of Twilight valacirca

Alastor had listened and—a part of him, at least—understood for why the other had gone. Whenever he'd relived their meeting, it became easy to forget that Aesop was older than he was. That there were things he might want to do before he couldn't do them quite as easily anymore. And while that might not have been what was meant with his words, it remained as how the foreigner had perceived them. It made it easier to forgive him, which was really all the boy had wanted to do. To be upset with the elder wolf was not something that he'd ever wanted to feel, having learned already how heavy such feelings became over time. At one point, he had been terribly upset with him, yet it still came as a surprise when his actions were referred to as an asshole move. Unaccustomed to swearing, even now, he wasn't entirely sure how to respond, and so a nod was given instead of words. "I forgive you," had been said soon after, spoken with a quiet tone. It was more like he wanted to forgive him for leaving, as a reason was explained, but the disappointment he'd felt for so long was not so quick to abandon his being entirely.

Thankful had he been when the topic changed, his turn to answer a question having arrived once again. With a shake of his head, he'd answered with a simple, "No." There he'd left it, only to decide to add more onto his answer shortly after. "I haven't even thought about joining a pack or settling in with a group. I–," there was a pause, and then a sigh, before he'd continued. "I have to visit a specific pack before I do anything else. I settled on a mountain close to the sea with the hope of visiting you, but when I saw that the beach was empty, things changed. I eventually left that pack, and I believe that I owe them an apology for having done so." It seemed like the polite thing to do, given how abrupt his departure had been.