Bearclaw Valley I own too much black

It's quite alright, no need to apologize! uwu
I hope we can thread again soon, too~

The failure of the task he'd been given did, without a doubt, weigh heavily on the Inuit. It pulled at his bearings, and allowed for uncertainties to take root within his cranium. Of course, he wouldn't give such saplings the light of day that was necessary to grow, causing them to die almost as quickly as they'd begun to bud. Still, that cycle did not stop them from arriving altogether. There was always one or two there, and at times the number would rise even higher. There was no fighting against it, as much as he tried, leaving him with hiding such thoughts away as his only option. There were things he'd needed to fix, items torn apart and in desperate need of being stitched back together. His goal was, ultimately, to be able to accomplish such a task, but for the time being he felt himself incapable of doing so.

Kove gave a nod of his head when the younger spoke once more, appreciating his words more than he probably showed. "Thank you," he voiced then, as the congratulations on his children had fallen from the teen's maw. He returned the hug-like maneuver, though he'd not expected such a thing. It reminded him a bit of the time back when he'd first met the boy, despite the situation back then having been entirely different from the current. Nevertheless, the memory had been pulled from the depths of his mind, and lingered briefly. As Damien turned to head off, it began it's descent back to wherever it'd risen from, and the ghost watched the shadow take his leave.