Ouroboros Spine the rocks and roots of the deepest hollow

When he spoke, his tiredness did not go unnoticed by Mordecai. This he found interesting, especially in light of the fact that they had not seen one another. Yet he did not jump to the conclusion that he had been avoided. He should have considered it, but for whatever naivety lingered in him had not voiced it. But their weariness was a mutual thing, yet one that Mordecai had slowly grown used to. Even before his decided ascension, he had long tired himself by trying to provide. Trying to deal with what had become of their home. In a way, trying to coax Ptarmigan into being less of what she had been had been tiring in itself, and those moments had never come to light in any way, shape, or form.

“Same as always, I suppose. Wondering when we'll wake with snow on the ground,” he said, a little flatly. Mordecai was not looking forward to the advent of winter. It was a trial that had never been apart of his favorite things. But survival had never been an easy thing. “And how about you tell me how you think I'm doing? As little as I've seen you, I can only imagine you keep yourself on the go quite a bit. Outside opinion never hurt,” though truthfully, it really could have. But it was his way of trying to suss out how Kaname was feeling. Not just about Mordecai himself, but rather how things were doing as a whole.