we are all

Feeling more grim, more stressed, than he has in perhaps too long... he needs to make choices. Confronted with not just his own mortality, but the feelings of everyone he's ever loved getting old and slipping through his fingers all the same. Fuck. Fuck. Anticipatory grief piled atop the more standard fare, Víðarr knows he can't wait.

He can't wait for his own litters to come of age, hell, his grandchildren are barely old enough. It doesn't matter, time wasn't going to wait. Naming an heir wasn't a decision Víðarr could afford to take lightly, but it's one that's been fairly well cemented in his head for some time. Erik would be up for the winter as well, and between he and Delphi... Víðarr didn't have another choice. They're too young, but he's still here. It had to be fine.

Bidding Kanin to fetch her, Víðarr takes the momentary quiet to compose himself. To find the right words. Why did his chest ache so badly? For now, it's all he can do to push it down. She shouldn't be long now. They would meet on the low ledge, afternoon sun hanging half-mast. Looking out over the Maw, and the Steppe beyond it. Some real everything the light touches shit.