Stages of grief

His gaze lingered on her as she spoke, though her attention remained on the sunset in front of them. Two years. It was hard for him to imagine spending that long tracking down someone, even if it was his mother. He hadn't spent even a fraction of that looking for Azariah, though he did have to think about his children in the mix of all of this. He couldn't just abandon them in the pursuit of finding his lost lover. He wondered if it would have been a different story if they hadn't had the children to think about. "That's a long time to keep up that kind of search," he commented before he took the bottle back from her to take another long drink himself, setting it back between them again with a soft sigh.

He looked out toward the sunset as well and as he shifted to lay more comfortably he found himself shifting a bit closer to her in the process. It wasn't even a conscious decision, but it was also the first time he had been fully relaxed and comfortable around anyone in a very long time. Any trace of the exterior he usually tried to keep in place for appearances had disappeared the moment that she had pressed into him for comfort. Grief could do strange things to wolves, a fact he knew all too well. The wine made a pleasant warmth spread through his limbs, his face flushed and feeling just a tad looser then he usually would have been. He was a large man, it would take a lot more than half a bottle of wine to really tip him into drunkenness, but this was nice.

"What are your plans now?" he asked as he brought his silver gaze back down to her again just as the sky began to darken into shades of red and purple. His gaze was questioning, but hopeful. He wanted her to stay, to be a part of the pack her mother had created, but if she had other plans, other goals, then he wouldn't stop her. No matter how beautiful her golden gaze and silver brindled markings looked in the dying light of the day.

Ulric Adravendi