stride of a blind man's stroll

Home was a weird fucking concept, but he would deal with it. Fenrir's Maw-- Dimitri scoffed to himself. Every night he'd sleep in the belly of a beast? Hell, it was like living at home with his fathers again. Bullshit. Shivering ever so slightly at the thought, tossing his head, and moving on. Eyes shining green in the dusk light, letting them catch and sparkle, he tried to picture Poser in his mind. The illusionist decided that he saw a lot of himself there, sure, but less well trained. Less well built. Poorly put together, like he'd fall apart at any moment. He would always be stronger, he would always be faster. Maybe they'd prove that hand to hand one day. Maybe he'd get a chance to take the bastard out himself.

Maybe it was wishful thinking. Slowly, the illusionist makes his way across the Maw. There was so much to see here, and he had to make note of it all. Softly, Dimitri nodded to himself. Beneath his paws was one of the more well traveled paths, but it was all in finding where it went. Steep and winding, but the steps were confident. Nothing would be able to shake that from him, and he was going to learn. He'd learn all of it-- he had to, in time.

This was home now. That was a start.