Moonspear washed away in a tide of longing

Some time later through a faint mist in the old wood, he spied Osiris. For a spell, Dirge merely trailed his son to watch him, in some way appeased to see the fellow that he had grown into. Almost hard to think that at one point he had been nothing more than a small, perhaps occasionally feisty child… but now he was certainly grown and ever changing into what sort of a creature he would truly be. Gentle looking, sure, but beneath that idle, youthful visage there was the fire that burned so brightly in Hydra.

He wondered then what parts of him his children had acquired, if anything at all.

It was a dark thing to ponder, a troublesome cloud that cast a shadow over him that thankfully he could just simply whisk away before it could draw clout to his gaze. Yet for all his wonder and stoicism, he could not help but draw up warmth to his features as he began to close in that distance between them. A crisp note left him; he gave his son plenty of time to decide whether or not he wanted the company of his father before that distance decided for him.

“Going for the borders?” Perhaps he would want the company.