Crossing back into the north was a homecoming for the shadow. Though feelings and obligations had drawn him to the south, there was nothing quite like the wildness of the north. The things that made him feel like he belonged. Like he was truly at ease. As the temperatures around him dropped, so too did the stress that had been building up in his system. This was comfort. True comfort. The closest thing to home that he'd had since they left. They... where were they? His thoughts turned to his siblings the farther north he came. A weight resting on his chest. A somber note in the steps he took, feeling the daylight begin to ebb away. A brilliant display of sorts was coming on, a blood red and inky blue-black sky spread before him. The shadow sighed softly, looking to his companions. May as well rest his bones for a bit, somehow feeling older than ever. So many plans, so many dreams, and yet... here he was. It wasn't bad, no. Just different than he'd hoped, different than what he'd had in mind. Moving to a comfortable spot beneath one of the ragged shoreline trees, Víðarr settled down. The snow was a good enough insulator, and this made for an overall comfortable spot. The dogs curled up together, not far away. Never far. Still, Víðarr was grateful for at least a bit of personal space. Ever alert, but for now he was relaxed. Víðarr could watch the sun sink below the choppy waters of the Sound in relative peace.

More and more recently, the fire-marked shadow wolf had found himself seeking the solace of solitude. Alastor was in no means displeased with his lot in life, but things had become so terribly… complicated. Things with Relm had unraveled at the seams and it had sent his emotional and mental state into a tailspin. As was his habit, to keep himself grounded Alastor had trekked further north to let loose his pent up aggression and frustrations on the local fauna of the icy wilderness, hunting down a slew of creatures that could hurt him back. What was a hunt without a little risk with the reward, after all? Coyotes, snow leopards, and the one scuffle with a polar bear had helped quell some of the fire in his blood, but it was never enough to fully satisfy the brute.

Trudging back through the packed powdery snow of the wintry north was like a brisk refreshing walk for the thick-coated, fluffy wolf. For all the hassle his longer coat had been for him, Alastor did appreciate how much it insulated him against the harsher climate of the northern territories. Giant paws crunched through the snow as he climbed the craggy mountainsides that ran the length of the sound, daylight fading as a blazing sunset smothered the sky like paint strewn across a canvas. He wasn't attempting to be stealthy—not that he really could with a coat as dark as night against the pure white snow—while he made his way in the direction of home, listening to the rhythmic lapping of arctic waves on the stony shore. As the dire brute walked, the traces of a wolf's scent on the wind intermixed with sea salt and pine reached his nares. Alastor's attention perked, but he did not stray from his course. It was not unusual for other wolves to be out and about in wild lands.

The further he walked around the sound, the stronger the scent became though, and soon enough he found the source. Another dire wolf, this man dressed in a coat of dark inky black, much like he was, but bearing simple silver markings around his muzzle and topside as opposed to Alastor's red flames. Simple yet elegant. Obsidian eyes lifted to study the other brute, who sat stoic and silent, watching the sunset it seemed. Had he encountered this wolf earlier on in the day, it was likely Alastor would have tried to fight him. For a brief moment, Alastor considered just walking on by, but the thought of returning home right away wasn't exactly appealing to him knowing what waited for him there. Besides, it had been some time since he'd met anybody new, and he was intrigued by this large stranger. Instead, the dire wolf's path shifted, bringing him along the shore closer to the brute. "A fine sunset this one is," he greeted the fellow dire with his usual wolfish smile. "Nature really shows some incredible beauty amongst its chaos." Alastor paused a couple of paces from the other man, gesturing with a massive paw to the space between them. "May I join you?"

"Alastor Mendacium"

It was, perhaps, curious that anyone else would venture out into the chill like this. Far too cold to be reasonable, wouldn't the hypothetical they be better off in their nice warm beds at home? Only a madman would be out enjoying the weather. Being something of a madman himself, of course Víðarr was out. He was out and comfortable in it all. Not like he had a home to be in, of course. The wilds were his home, which is why him being here made all the more sense. That is to say: Víðarr was in his happy place. No, he was not alone for long. He could hear the stranger coming a long ways off, not that he was trying to hide. There was no hiding for men like them, not when winter gripped the land as it did. Not during daylight hours. They are the sort of men who take up space, and that space demands a certain amount of attention. They took up space as if it was their job, as well as their gods-given right. The shadow would watch the man from the corner of his eye as he came ever closer, ready to let him make the first move. And he did. The wolfish grin was met with one of Víðarr's own, gaze alight with mischief. It's hard not to feel it, bathed in the golden light of the fading afternoon. "Come, sit," his accent still colors the words heavily even after all the time he's spent here. "Who are you?" While not the most polite way to put it, there's no malice. Víðarr's expression and tone remain warm, curious. It was only his grasp on the language that happened to be tenuous, the rest of the shadow was perfectly relaxed.

The bitter and bracing cold of the wintry arctic north had always been a welcoming home to him. That fact was even more true when Alastor's fur had grown to its long, fluffy state after his path crossed with a peculiar bath bomb during the Long Night. Now the cold and snow were his playgrounds, the ice and tundra his domain. While many avoided the north for such reasons, he embraced it, and though it was often usually a lonely embrace, today he had found good fortune in the presence of the other man. When Alastor had called out to the shadow given corporeal form, he had been curious to see how the other would react. Though his outward appearance was fluffy and soft, each movement of his body would do nothing to obscure or hide the rippling muscles of an apex predator in his prime just below that plush coat. Many feared him for fear that he might be dangerous. A wolf dressed in shadow black and fire red was surely akin to a venomous snake with its vibrant colors, was it not?

And yet, when the other brute turned to meet his gaze with piercing silver-blue eyes, he saw no fear there. Instead, he saw curiosity, enticement, intelligence, assessment. The other male was a clever kind of predator too, and judging from the easy grin that wove its way across his chiseled features Alastor deduced he was equally as comfortable in the presence of strangers, confident and empowered. It had been a long time since the Mendacium alpha had met another wolf like that. The man spoke to him in rumbling lyrics that flowed with an accent Alastor had never heard before. It was rough and powerful, but also exotic and alluring. No doubt the brute had no troubles pulling women to his bed, Alastor assessed. He was welcomed to join the wolf, and though only a few words were spoken, the body language between the two spoke volumes. The shadow was relaxed, turned towards him with curiosity. Alastor himself was also at ease as he strode on graceful paws up to seat himself alongside the other ebony brute.

Bathed in the golden light of the late afternoon sun, Alastor gazed out at the wondrous lands that surrounded them. Snowcapped peaks, crystal clear waters, and gray rock broken up by pockets of dark green conifers. A beautiful spectacle to be sure! Alastor looked back to his new acquaintance as he was asked a simple question, and obsidian black eyes met those icy blues once more, close enough to see the flecks of silver that ran through his irises. "I'm Alastor Mendacium," he introduced himself with another easy grin to the man, tipping his muzzle down in greeting. "And you are...?" Like his companion, Alastor's expression was one of intrigue and enlivened curiosity. This male looked like the kind of wolf with an interesting tale behind him, and an air of danger and mystery that drew the fire-marked man in.

"Alastor Mendacium"

A pair of predators, a pair of hunters. A pair of creatures that held more than a bit of danger just beneath the surface. Beneath the surface but barely obscured, a surface clear and reflective all at once. There's something strange here, and something... different. Víðarr feels the most alive in moments like this. Introverted by nature, sure, but it didn't take much to draw him out. It didn't take much to draw him in, as well, and this is just as dangerous. Danger, and something far more than that. It's true, he can't help himself. Alastor, he calls himself. The surname isn't lost on Víðarr either, though it's one he'll need to file away for later. Too many syllables, too foreign. He'll gladly hold eye contact with man before him, studying intensely. Barely blinking, but trying to take in all he can. Process what he sees, and process what he doesn't see. The shadow can feel the way his heart beats in his chest, and the strange gravity of this Alastor. Wrapped in the warmth and light of golden hour, they both settle comfortably in the plush snow. "Víðarr Trygg." The answer comes with finality. He does not stop in his study of the man before him, does not even pause. Still, it's a long moment before he speaks again, not a master conversationalist but needing to know more. Always needing to know more. "From where do you come?" Though the words come out a bit backwards, it's enough to get his point across. It's enough, in Víðarr's mind, at least. Black holes create their own gravity, or something like that. Maybe that's what Víðarr is experiencing, in this moment. He's not going to fight it, no. He's going to explore it.