These knolls felt almost homey to Sparrow now. She didn't know why she came here again and again. Was she looking for that thrill from the first time she crossed into the territory? Was it because it had felt like such a strong and different place? She was sure it was of past reasons and not just the pretty landscape that drew her out here.

The small girl often wondered what became of those that once lived here. She was sure some of them were around. How were they handling? They all seemed like strong wolves before as they strode past, tall as trees. Many of the members easily dwarfed her. Was that what was appealing to her? Their power?

It made Sparrow feel a bit sick to think about it, but she always felt powerless and somehow it felt like everyone in Imperium had power within themselves. Maybe she had been wrong, but they seemed strong alone, but also strong as a pack. Sparrow didn't really feel either in Abaven. She felt like everyone was just clinging, too scared to move, like the pack lands would crumble and fall.

But she couldn't really do anything about that either.

She was small. She wasn't a warrior. There was always a new up and coming healer with more experience than her. There were always scouts willing to run around and check things out. What could she do? What did she want to do?

Sparrow really wasn't sure. She felt scared. She was older and older yet. This was her fourth year and she still hadn't had a litter. She had always wanted kids, but now? Even if she did have them, she'd be six by the time they were able to have pups, and even if they did right away, would she have time to be a good parent? A good grandparent? Would she want to raise her children in Abaven? Of course, but also no. She wanted her family to be able to come and love her and her children, but she didn't know if she wanted them to be under them in rank like she had.

It felt too suffocating. What was she doing here? Why was she here? Why wasn't she at home? Why didn't home feel like home? Why couldn't she change it?

Why?

She felt miserable and she was sobbing. She didn't even realize she was crying at first. Here she was, miles from home just sitting on a hill bawling because here she was, a full grown adult, realizing she had no idea what she wanted to do in her life.

Poser is small and lithe and strong. There's nothing that he wanted more than to take over the world, and even in this body he could do it. He'd do what he could with what he was given, and he'd been given... this. Handsome, quick as a whip, and more graceful than any creature he'd seen. There's something unstoppable about him. Sheer will. That's what it was, right? Sheer will and divine intervention. The young god moves in a way that can't be matched in any way, shape, or form. A lip full of cannabis, chewing away at the buds, and easy feet against the ground. He'd come to Boreas, following the warmer weather. Poser's castle had been taken over, and he'd need an army to get it back. He'd need to reach out and wrap his hands around the neck of the man that had taken it from him, and he'd need a force to do that. Choke them out. There became time of course, when it was time to spit on your hands, raise the black flag, and begin slitting throats. That seemed easy enough, in the mind of the young god. Seemed easy. Always. He is easy. In his mind, everything will come together just as he needs it to. Idea, you see, is much easier than practice. Head high and eyes bright, he moves to sit atop a hill and scheme. Sit atop a hill and look. Seek. Search for all the things that would bring him joy. Look for his army. Find someone to pass his time. Graceful as ever, a dark smudge against a bright spring day. That's when he hears her. An easy jog and a high head, eyes soft on the crying woman. He could be soft. He was capable. "Oh my dear what's wrong?" The soft Russian lilt, the ears folded carefully back against his head-- concern. The healer did not smell blood, but she was... hurting. She was hurting, but it may not have been physical. Even for the mental things... well... Poser had all the herbs for that too. Gently, he keeps his distance, and he waits. your charged touch poser breathy way of saying my name