Silvertip Mountain I dream of seeing the world

Last post from me so I can tie up other Alastor threads < 3

Alastor was given a question, one of which he'd decided to answer right away. Or, rather, he'd tried to answer. "I don't know where I will be heading just yet," the male had admitted. "Perhaps towards the south." To plan a trip thoroughly wasn't like him. A direction, a specific goal—he could plan those things, but everything else was often left open to chance. He traveled where the wind took him, mapping the lay of the land and seeing all the sights he was able to. It was his way of working, after all, and a method he'd most likely never change.

The fact that announcing his departures was unnecessary lifted from him the weight of guilt, his earlier worries of leaving without a single farewell slowly beginning to leave his mind. The boy could do nothing more than smile in turn and give a nod of his head, showing that he understood what had been said and would keep it in mind for next time.

With his reasoning for calling them out of the way, Alastor was left at a loss for words. If any furter sentences were sent his way, he would respond appropriately before excusing himself and taking his leave, though his direction would be towards the heart of the territory. The time for his trip had yet to arrive, he knew, and so for the time being the greyscale man would remain.