Blacktail Deer Plateau the devil's bleeding crude oil from a hole in his chest

why was this so exceedingly difficult to write omg

The story that he received from Dante did shed some light on things. Some of it glossed over what he had gathered from the meeting, and what wasn't filled in some of the blanks. He recalled Saena, however briefly, merely knowing that she too had left the pack to chase down her own place in the world. That he couldn't discredit, because it was something that they were all born to do one way or another. Some of them weren't cut out for such lives, and some of them were simply slow to the take when it came along. Where he fell in all of that, he couldn't say. The judgment from others did not inflate his ego.

But there was one fundamental thing that Dante did touch upon that he took some comfort in — that they would not have to deal with it when none of it was an issue. Yet it too was not much more than a passing comfort, as he was inclined to feel that it did become their issue. But Mordecai did not raise issue with this either, for the spotlight had come swinging around on him once again. Though the sensation of being blinded came to him, he carried on as though there were not an ounce of stage fright to be found.

"I wanted to say that I think it's time for Harlyn and I to move on," he started, ears splaying with discomfort. It felt like a loaded statement, certainly another bit of weight to be shouldered. "Honestly I hate that the timing is poor, with all that's gone on. You've been a generous host for a long time, a good friend as well." In a sense, he could not help but feel slightly indebted to that as well, as Dante did not have to take them in at all in the first place. Their propensity of venturing on would have been enough to make others consider, though Mordecai had been upfront about the inevitably of his own moving on. Harlyn having come back into the picture was not something he had anticipated and in turn, he had long outstayed his welcome in a manner of speaking.