Gilded Bay strength before weakness

Over two years. It was over two years ago since he had last seen Guildenstern. Flesh and blood, of the same womb, of the same year. One would think the two would act more excited, catch up on news, talk about Rosencrantz's fucking face but here they were, as stoic as ever, no smiles or loving embraces exchanged. It was like they were strangers again; it didn't bother him. 

No? I thought I'd always be in the North, not on a beach. You too. He explained with a nonchalant shrug. He couldn't even remember the reason why he had trecked so far from home, away from the cold and turned South. Curiosity maybe. He was able to and that was enough reason he supposed. 

Approaching, the brute leaned over and drank from the water that was laid out before them. One that Guildenstern had found before Rosencrantz had followed. His throat tugged for the sweet relief and so he would quench it before continuing with their meeting. Lapping up a few sips, he rose again to listen to his brother; allowing drops to stray from his lip and chin as he pondered the answer. Looking over to the island from where he came. I don't know. It seemed to be the same damn answer he had for everything. It's been a while I suppose, maybe a year since I first landed here... I seem to have joined a pack. The last tugged at his lips slightly, a mild bemusement crossed his mug as he spoke the words. 

I haven't been in a pack since home. What have you done since your departure? Having left first, Guild must have been through more, or so Rose had hoped. More than the boredom he had gone through - except for the burned face of course. Funny how a tragedy as losing half your face would be the highlight of your life at almost Four.