Stavanger Bay Three ways to sunday

[size=x-small]ooc: almost ghost-posted your edit but caught it just in time. I apologize if the transition is a little awkward where I edited things to work right![/size]

Surra had been avoiding much of the pack since his heartbreak with Julooke. Though the grey-brown male's exterior was still always calm and composed, his insides were a tumultuous sea of emotions, and he was lost in his own mind for several days. It had come to his realization that what had hurt most about realizing Julooke was already taken had less to do with the strength of his feelings for her, which in reality had not had time to grow very strong, and more to do with a deep-set longing within him to have someone to devote himself to. Maybe it was instinctual, the need within him to pass on his genes. But Surra couldn't help but believe he wanted more than just that.

The first and last time he had admitted aloud this feeling of longing had been when he spoke with Thistle. It had been a couple weeks since he had last really had a conversation with her, and now he found himself wandering towards her and Ragnar's den. Last time they had spoken, she had made him feel like he was really being listened to, and he thought that maybe it would put his mind at ease to speak with her again. Little did he know that she was also having personal struggles of her own.

It wasn't long before the familiar tawny form came into view. She was laying at the edge of the clearing, staring off in the distance. Surra's blue eyes glanced out to where she was looking, wondering if she was looking at anything in particular, only to realize that was not the case. She seemed... troubled. When she got up and returned to her den, looking around once or twice, Surra considered calling out to her then, but thought better of it. She may well be going to sleep or spend time with her children. As he was about to turn and go, he suddenly heard a furious digging from inside the den. He waited a moment, but still it continued. Finally, the blue-eyed male approached the mouth of the den.

"Thistle," He called softly into the den, forgetting about his own emotional struggle for the moment. His voice carried only the slightest hint of concern, and was otherwise level and calm. "Would you like any help?" He stood a foot or so outside the den, head lowered, giving her space. His ears angled to the side, indicating through his submission that he would leave if she did not want his company.