Sun Mote Copse slow dancer, no answer

it was hard. arcturus resented the position he put jarilo in, as he resented his own position too. not even his brother's attempt at humor lightened the seriousness that darkened his face. he tried for a smile, but it fell (and felt) woefully short.

indeed, it was what it was, as jarilo so aptly put.

once, arcturus had hated that sentiment.

when he was younger, more naive. before he realized the many fates in this world were immovable. before he realized his own mortality and futility in the face of time's passing and the events that transpired within.

he was relieved for the topic shift, even if it was but a small diversion to the sneering elephant in the room. "i do not know a clover here. there is another pack just short of the wilds, a family pack -- perhaps she is there."

as for how it was here... how could he explain? it was peaceful. it was tranquil. it almost felt safe, were it not for the way the spear's presence seemed to loom over him like a constant shadow. "most of them are family here, so not so different. there are less trespassers, less landslides too." he tried for a joke and felt it pitiful. a moment of vulnerability eclipsed his hard mood: "i feel far from the stars here."