Sore pink paw pads fell upon the dry earth as a hauntingly pale creature moved through the wilds. Strides were uneven with a touch of a lasting limp. Not too much pain was left from the break but each time the tall male put too much pressure on it the limb felt weak. With time and exercise he was sure he'd have full range which was also a concept presented to him by the femme who nursed him back to health. The injury was pesky and annoying but Hannibal was just glad to be back. Being in the north for so long and through such a rough winter did a toll on him. Knowing that his family felt abandoned and to suffer through extreme weather he was not use to. It pained him to think back on the horribly chilled nights but he suppressed such thoughts. Overall the pain was worth it and now he was reunited once again. A gentle wash of cool toned light fell upon the high points of his pale bodice. The moon was high in the sky and gracing the lands with her might. Hannibal was nocturnal due to his lack of pigmentation. Nothing good came of the sun, the scars and scabs on his back showed that rather crudely. He rounded the beautiful lake that seemed to still maintain a plentiful ecosystem despite the wasteland around them. The eruption sent ash up into the sky which blocked a lot of sun to getting to the lands below. Thus causing spring to seemingly be put on a pause. The days were dull and cold as if the winter had never left. Each week it seem to get better and better but this also meant that herbs and prey weren't as plentiful. It would be a struggle for some time but there was a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel. After some thoughtful walking Hannibal made his way to the Warlord's den. It was the evening but not too terribly late. The former heir stepped forward at the threshold but paused a moment. "Sirius." Deep tones were low as to not disturb the beast if he were sleeping.

The stories of the white devils death were greatly exaggerated, it seemed. It was something he had to see for himself, even if his injured leg did hinder him. So when he realised the man had come on his own accord, the Warlord didn’t hesitate to sit upright in his den, and call for him to enter. “Hannibal! Do come in” he said, and waited for the limping beast to enter. His relationship with Hannibal had been rocky. He had been the heir of the Empire, and Sirius had kept a respectful distance.

Then Deathbelle had become Empress, and he had found them entertaining each other in Deathbelles den. At the time, Sirius had hated him for it, for Deathbelle, a woman he loved, was also a woman he could not have. After he had found Zee, he could forgive Hannibal, for the thought of him with Deathbelle no longer hurt as much. Then Hannibal had supported his rise to Demiyo, despite pressure from his siblings to let him rock as a slave. Forgiveness had turned to respect. He had been saddened by the man's death, both for how it hurt Deathbelle, and for the loss of the chance to get to know the man as something more than one of his masters. “Ahh, yes, I heard we matched now” The Warlord joked, pointing his nose at the injured leg as the White man walked into view.