Silvertip Mountain daybreak

there are some things, in arktos' mind, that a man doesn't share with strangers or ...acquaintances; but if nephele took to the idea there could be no progress if word didn't get 'round. arktos needs it to spread like wildfire in a small town bar, carried on the lips of every gossipmonger. he didn't necessarily see the young man beside him as a gossiper but a planted seed was potential. a small purse of arktos' lips is given; contemplation heavy as he weighs pros and cons.

a soft shift of weight.

oblivious to the way the other man seemed a bit crestfallen, arktos makes a decision and speaks, if she's open to the idea, there's a possibility we could be try building our own pack. of course, it was all a hypothetical at the moment, with nothing more concrete than the ideas percolating in his mind.

you got a home, fjall? asks arktos conversationally, just two men sat at a bar, drinking beers.

he lets it sit, mulling over the philosophical turn their conversation had taken. i believe in what i can see, in what i can touch, taste, smell — his senses, he could trust. was all he had to trust besides the memory of ground zero and the memories made after it. i take it you are? he asks.