Serpent Lake look toward your golden towers

hadrian's steps are slow, cautious and calculating as he considers where he's entered the teekon wilds and what direction he has to take to reach noctisardor bypass — the birthplace of his father and where the emperor had raised and then left his legacy of the wilds. the senior hadrian — shadow, as the wolves of these wilds had known him — spoke often of it and hadrian junior had taken the stories greedily, soaking them up like a sponge.

the sound of footfalls draws his immediate attention, ears cupping forth atop the proud crown of his head and frostbound gaze falling upon the woman. at quick glimpse hadrian isn't sure that he saw her but she, draped in a pelage of living shadows, is hard to miss in the glow of the early morning sun and the weak noise of greeting she emits confirms that she is more than shadow.

for a moment, hadrian does not engage, weighing his options. he really should try to find saarthal even if it was just to check in on her ...make sure was was ok for his own peace of mind; yet, how did he expect to find her when he had no idea where she was? he could run into her by chance, sure but the odds of that happening likely weren't that great. admittedly, the legionnaire wasn't, perhaps, the most friendliest of the three musketeers. he had a nasty habit of looking down upon others: years spent being praised, getting what he wanted out of his instructors and the favor of the emperor himself has given hadrian an unshakeable impression of himself.

and yet, how many diplomatic missions had he gone on? plenty ...and he prides himself on his diplomatic skills. hello. he eventually greets the shadowed woman cooly.