He'd left his brother behind near the borders of the new pack quite some time ago. And then? He'd wandered. A bit aimless, a bit avoidant. It would be an easy feat to step up to the borders, to stand in the cascading shadows of the ancient castle, and to call for someone. And yet.. he'd lingered in unfamiliar lands, the heat clinging to his every molecule in a way that was both stifling and soothing. To be burdened under the blanket of humidity, and lay down in the shade of an old tree until night fell. It was like a warm hug. He hadn't been to Auster since... since his mother died. Died within the very boundaries of the pack he sought to join. Why was he going back? To the place whose walls towered so painfully tall in his terrified memories, and shadows stretched so far to swallow him in his darkest moments. Worse yet, to return to living under the terrible weight of his sire's gaze. To feel the prickle of judgement, the ghosts of resentment- it wasn't his fault that he looked so much like her- it ached worse than his crippled leg during the rains. So he started small. Slunk around the fringes of outer territories, still close enough to the land bridge that he might retreat across it if he finally lost his nerve for good. The sweet aroma of berries drew him, he couldn't help it. With his rucksack over his shoulder and his companions clinging to his back, he sniffed about the outskirts of the territory markers for a sweet treat to soothe his troubled mind.

Autumn in Auster meant harvesting round the clock in the Hallows. With the onset of the rainy season coming swiftly, it was imperative for all the year's harvest of fruits, berries, and herbs to be gathered and prepared to be preserved or used. Being as he was no healer, Artorias was often in charge of helping to gather the ripe fruits from the Wildberry Grove before they overripened and spoiled or were drowned by the coming rains. It wasn't his favorite job per se, but it kept Briar happy and the Hallows wines flowing, so he didn't put up a fuss. It was quite amusing to see the regal and fearsome Lord of Cinder roaming the berry grove with a wicker basket close to overflowing with fruit though. Ah, the things we do for the people we love...

Artorias was working through stripping a raspberry bush clean when Corbin came to alight on his back, croaking to get the dire wolf's attention. "Master Artorias, there's a visitor skulking around the borders," his avian reported, which almost had Artorias launching into high alert and ready for combat until he added on, "It's family."

Now more curious than concerned, Artorias abandoned his task and set off to the borders and see who was here. It took a little bit of walking before Artorias picked up on the familiar scent and followed it to a familiar wolf, one he hadn't seen in some time. There was no denying the unmistakable uncanniness the brute bore to his mother though. Approaching at a leisurely gait, Artorias regarded Stratum with a warm smile. "You're welcome to come in, y'know. Family is always welcome here," he teased his brother-in-law with a lighthearted prod. "It's good to see you again, Stratum. I’m guessing by the bag this isn’t just an 'I was in the neighborhood' kind of visit?" Artorias took quick stock of Stratum with his fiery gaze. The Fatalis man looked... well, he looked alive at the least. He couldn't exactly say Stratum looked well though. Life had clearly slung some shit at him since last they'd seen one another. And with his companions and belongings with him… Gods, what had been going on up north...?

"Artorias" | "Carpathian"

Marshal sent the Warlord to the Hallows border, and he had expected to see Artorias. In fact, he had thought his companion had been hinting that he should aid the Lord of Cinder with his berry harvesting. Instead, when the ageing Warlord trotted through the grove and into view, he would realise his son had made his way to the Hallows border.

He trotted closer, reaching forward to grab the younger boy into a bear hug. He looked small and sad, despite his height. He knew Stratum had left the Armada with Crux after the Kyanite fiasco. He’d been filled in after the fact, and had sent Marshal out to look for his boys and half blind daughter. His bird had returned empty handed. “Stratum, are you okay?” He asked softly.


"Speech"

There was a familiar face, though one that was... shorter? Than the last time he'd seen him. Well, really it was that the dun furred wolf was quite a bit larger. That didn't make it any less jarring to find himself looking the leader of the Hallows in the eye, instead of craning his neck to look up at him as he did during his past visit. The Lord of Cinder approached with a gait that spoke of self-assurance, ease. With rumbling baritones, he reminded- at least, it was probably a reminder, as brains were not Stratum's shining feature- that he was more than welcome to simply cross the borders. A low, gruff grunt of acknowledgement was the best he could offer for a moment, deep voice hoarse with disuse. "I was, uh, working up the nerve." he said simply, mercury gaze downcast to his enormous paws. He welcomed the warmth of his brother-in-law's greeting, though he struggled to reciprocate it. The best he could do was a half smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. He nodded lightly at the azure male's assumption that it wasn't a simple visit, and the smile faded. "There was a..." he floundered when trying to find the tactful way to bring up the reason for his absconding from his natal pack. Andy would have been great at this. Crux would have been better at this, too. Any of his siblings, really. Always better with words. "disagreement," he finally uttered the kindest word he could muster. "about Basilisk becoming Warlord. A few of us left, just to be safe." the bassy, gravelly tones of his voice were a bit higher than usual as he worked his way through the least resentful explanation that he could manage, considering Artorias didn't really need to get dragged into the mess. And then, all at once, the towering figure of his father. In reality, no larger than he was- smaller, even, in mass. But the retired Warlord's presence was enough to make him falter, and if his skin had been visible beneath his pelt it would be pale as the driven snow. Would he be mad? Would he yell? His anxieties flared right up until the moment his sire's enormous foreleg closed around his neck and drew him tight against the man's chest. He stumbled into the hug, eyes wide and uncertain. He stuttered for a moment or two, debating whether to answer his father's question honestly. "Uh, yes, sir." he said, instinct taking over when his mind could not fill the silence. Be strong, don't let them see you suffering- Fatalis wolves were not wilting flowers. After a moment, he drew away, taking a half step back. "I don't know if we're going back to the Armada." he said, unwilling to relinquish the dim vestiges of hope that he might be able to return one day. "I was hoping I could join your ranks." his attention shifted back to the Lord of Cinder, eyes of swirling silver fixed upon the man's features with brow furrowed, some unspoken emotion that was almost desperation lingering in his expression. "I don't like living on my own. I'll pull my weight- metaphorically." there was a hint of a smile there, and he absently shifted his weight off of his bad leg, an unconscious motion to hide his greatest source of shame as he tried to joke about it. "If.. you have the room, at least. I can head back north, if you don't." the blond titan tried for a reassuring, calm smile. If there was one thing he was good at, it was bearing the brunt of other's struggles, and doing so happily. If there was no space for him, he'd seek out other allies for a home. Maybe follow after Crux for the time being.

Artorias studied Stratum's expression while the younger Fatalis brute returned his greeting, noting the strained smile, the way the light didn't quite reach his argent eyes. Something wasn't quite right... Stratum earned an amused chuckle from Artorias when he mentioned working up the nerve, though the mirth wasn't kept alive long before Stratum's dour expression returned, and with it came the Lord of Cinder's concern. He mentioned a disagreement over Basilisk becoming Warlord, and Art's brows pulled together as he listened to everything his brother-in-law had to tell him. He had figured Basilisk's ascension to alpha would have rubbed some wolves the wrong way—even he had his reservations about the new Warlord and their share of disagreements—but at the mention of leaving to be safe... That worried Artorias. Were his family in danger under Basilisk Fatalis' reign?

He didn't get to linger on the thought long or ask any follow ups before Sirius was arriving, both Stratum and Art regarding the Fatalis patriarch. Art took note of the shrinking of Stratum's demeanor in his sire's presence, but that gradually dissolved once Seer embraced his child and the two exchanged a curt, quintessentially Fatalis greeting. Artorias, who knew Sirius lacked a certain level of emotional IQ to check on his son, knew he'd have to follow up with Stratum in private, if the younger male was willing to talk. Stratum returned to the matter of his presence and explained that he and the others didn’t plan on returning to the Armada, and he was seeking to join the Hallows. There was no question in Artorias' mind on letting Stratum join, even with the lad already shyly offering alternatives. He could see that longing look in Strat's mercurial eyes. He needed his family's help.

Artorias cut off Stratum with a resolute shake of his head and a raised paw, fixing his brother-in-law with a welcoming smile that radiated warmth and acceptance. "You're my family, Stratum. You're always welcome, and we have plenty of room. I'm sure Briar will be over the moon to have more of her family around too!" Artorias was not concerned over Stratum's leg hindering him—although he would like to let their physicians take a look at it, even if there was nothing to be done about it. He would not deny his family or look upon him with shame. Artorias bore his own scars of the painful past too. Artorias strode forward to close the distance between them, gently nudging his head against Strat's in a familial nuzzle, welcoming him to his new home before motioning to the two Fatalis men to lead them towards Hearthstone. "C'mon, let's get your things inside and get you settled. Then we can see about a meal and a tour."

As they crossed the grove south towards the plains, Artorias looked to Stratum at his side once more. "Tell me about your skills, Strat. What are you passionate about?" Artorias liked to place his wolves in roles and ranks that best fit their interests and personalities. Who Stratum was would decide what he could do around the Hallows.

"Artorias" | "Carpathian"

“Yes, I heard the news,” he explained to his son. Kite has always been a wild card, but she hadn't even waited for the paint to dry on Basilisk’ new title before she had tried to rip it from him. Volatile and selfish, she would have made for a very poor leader. That didn't stop him from worrying about where she had ended up. No one seemed to know where she had gone after leaving the pack.


He released his son from his tight hug, and let him speak his piece. It was okay if Stratums chapter in the Armada had finished. He'd intended the pack to be a shelter for his children, but he had learned the folly of holding on too tightly.


At the mention of joining the Hallows, he let his eyes flick to Artorias. This was his domain after all. His son in law didn't disappoint, inviting Stratum to join with all the warmth that he led with. “If you'd let me, I'd like to spend some time with you this evening. We should catch up.” He said quietly to his son.