Blackbeak Bluff dreams of gods and monsters

Expecting more so a quip in return, he was taken aback by the swift change in tone after an exchange of childish laughter between the two. What was home for him? Rusalka was a place of rest, certainly, he had grown close to Rosalyn and Erzulie, the wives being two of the few within the pack he has had regular contact with and enjoyed their company - but did two wives who didn't belong to him, make a home? Where none of the children were his, and he was just a guard dog watching at the borders and nothing more.

Did time make it home? Frankly, he has never felt that sentiment, truly, other than just a word in a sense, that feeling of ultimate belonging and longing for a certain place or group as one would see as family, that same feeling he has observed in the packmates of Rusalka. Their home was the sea, and the group clearly bloomed in its presence. Hmm... The tone rolled on mindlessly as he pondered the answer.

Me. His answer was simple, he was his own home. His own vessel. Though scarred and worn to the bone, aging and shadowed with grim thoughts, he was his own home in the end. The only constant, the one thing that was his. Rusalka has been good, and I don't plan on leaving... but nothing, no one there, is mine. He was still but an outsider, looking in.