Winter had drawn the family to the north once more. More or less, the phantom was trailing along after her children. Spring would be here soon, and she would be another year older. Their father was still so young, and they would have many years with him. What about herself, though? How many years did this body of hers have left? Charcoal paws trudged through the snow, mercury gaze downcast. Would Olya care for them? Or would she leave once her tutelage was complete, and return to the motherland? So many thoughts roamed and rattled in her skull. Not many of them were entirely positive. Gods above, there was such work to be done. Relations with Samael needed bolstering, and failing that, one of his elder children. They could keep an eye on her daughters, yes? Perhaps Olya could be bargained with, to serve as a guiding figure for them. In her youth, there had been an immense, well known pack in this pine forest. What had become of it was a mystery. Further proof that all things eventually fell, no matter their power and might. She thought of her family, and whether they would be toppled in time. She prayed that they never knew a life without one another. Leaning her left shoulder against the sturdy trunk of a pine, she stared blankly at the snow. It fell in fat flakes all around, nearly whiting out the surroundings. It didn't matter, she knew where she was going, and where she needed to be. "speech"

He had been steadily moving towards the north once more. His mind was set. His pack would rise, but first he needed to collect his children. They needed to all be informed of their new freedoms and that their "grandfather" had been disposed of. His chest and neck was still sore and scabbed over. Ther signs that he would bare new scars. He was ignorant to the world right now. A man on a mission to retrieve the daughter that had been scarred for her life and Sathanus. HE knew both preferred the cold of the north, they would be the easiest to find.

He gave pause as a figure took shape in the snow ahead. Lirika sat against a tree, her aging body looking like it always had, tempting. She had disappeared though without word, had not given darya or Dom the chance to prove they could be Shamans as well. He gave no fucks about traditions. Those sorts of things were meant to change throughout the years.

Needless something had to give between them. HE approached her cautiously. No words were to be given. Both of them needed to make amends but his pride would not allow him to do it first.

SOME PRINCES DON'T BECOME KINGS The snow crunched beneath immense weight and broad paws. The familiar scent of her children's father rolled into her nostrils. Once they had been lovers, but something had changed. Upon her return, her children had been filled with dreams and Samael had been draped in a shawl of coldness. He had been standoffish, perhaps even rude. It had driven her off, forced her to the perimeters of her children's lives. She hadn't wanted her children to see conflict between their parents. Not like she'd seen, when her mother had died. When her father had abandoned them. She wanted the world for them, and for love to grow between them all. Not for her family to splinter again. Pale features turned over her features, dark lashes rimming her moonstone gaze. Samael emerged from the whiteout, his face battered and raw with fresh wounds. The words were punched from her chest. "Oh, Samael.." She breathed, crooned. So soft, so mournful. He had done something horrible, and he bore the marks. The phantom turned to face him, delicate form melting into the snowfall at its edges. Brows pinched together, she frowned up at his tattered flesh. What had he done? YOU ONLY GET WHAT YOU GRIEVE "speech"

She turned and it was almost obvious to him what she immediately thought, Her voice and facial features said it. She thought he was some monster that had hurt someone undeserving most likely. he kept his face blamk though, she could dote over his appearance if she wanted but every scar was a reminder to him that he was doing the right thing for his family. Gabe would never have to fear his sexuality again, and neither would any other. None of his children would be killed again. He had built his throne with his own scars and the blood of his "father".

His haunches lowered into the snow. a breif explanation flew from his lips, a hushed voice coming from him for once. "Abba no longer lives. Any child of mine will no longer have to cower in fear from a man who placed himself among the gods." He turned his face from her to the forest. Its silence was typical in this season but made him feel more alone. HAd Lirika even seen their daughter's face? Did she know the threats Abba had cast to his family? It was unlikely.

"Things between us need settled Lirika. I go to challenge for a pack soon, and i want no ill feelings from you or any other than the one i challenge." Nonchalance was the tone he gave.

SOME PRINCES DON'T BECOME KINGS There was no reaction in his features, schooled against any emotion toward her. Did he really think so little of her now? Perhaps he saw her as a means of spreading his seed, and now that the deed was accomplished she was useless to him. His heavy bulk settled into the snow. "Abba no longer lives. Any child of mine will no longer have to cower in fear from a man who placed himself among the gods." his voice was quiet, gentle. The titanic male didn't cast his gaze upon her. Rather, his attention fell to the trees all around them. Then, in a much colder tone he said "Things between us need settled Lirika. I go to challenge for a pack soon, and i want no ill feelings from you or any other than the one i challenge." The flippant tone was harsh. Her ears flattened against her skull momentarily, as though met with a physical blow. Perhaps her choice to love him had been foolish. Gods above, did she really love him? Had she? This was all a mess. "I see." It was a thinly veiled remark upon his demeanour, and his treatment of herself. "May I ask what you would like to settle? I'm afraid I don't fully understand." her vocals were tentative, accent thickened by the barest hints of emotion. "I am not so young anymore, I don't see why you might view me as a threat." She murmured, brows furrowing as she turned her gaze from his inattentive features to the snow underfoot. The thought occurred to her, violently as a knife in her chest. With shaking voice and breathy tone, she asked "Are you trying to take the children? Or did you wish for me to leave? I don't want to leave our daughters, Mr. Morningstar. I love them too dearly." Gods, were those tears in her eyes? When had she become so soft? "speech" YOU ONLY GET WHAT YOU GRIEVE