; no amount of self-sought fury will bring back the glory of innocence

Plucked away once more, Tiberius felt far older than his years, but with all the world hopping he had seemingly done up until this point, he wasn't even entirely sure if age remained the same amongst them all. He had been a man once, the ability to shift into his wolf at will in the year he had been away, and surely that age translated differently? He couldn't be sure, but the only thing that remained consistent was the way in his mind and on his shoulders he felt old. Weathered, as if he had been around for centuries.

He was still a father, at the crux of it all, and though he had always known his kids would grow and not remain babies forever, he still missed them. Their lives different, it was true, but there was no life he would live where they would not stay in his heart. Here, though, he was certain that they did not exist in the same place, and unless the goddamn magic decided to deliver them to him, the titan knew he was never going to see them again. It was a startling realisation, one that he had no control over. Prior, when he ventured away but always returned, he had known he could be found by them if they wanted to see him, and he in turn would know where to find them.

Now, though, he had no choice, and Tiberius suffered a sigh; he had never been in control of his life. All he could do was shoulder the storm as it came and passed and do his best to remain above the water. He had... he had wanted to find himself, who he was without his grief, his trauma, his history — he had wanted to discover what more he had to offer inside that he could never show before, and now... Tiberius remained unknowing.

He remained lost, walking a path that felt like survival and not an attempt to thrive.

Frustrated at the world and the way that when he had finally made a decision for himself, the world had decided to run with it and once more grab the reins and tell him where he would be. Without his children, without Lana, without Bunny -- Tiberius was, as he always would be, alone again. No responsibility of Chieftain sat on his shoulders yet he still carried the weight of all that had transpired during it, and what the after was.

He lived with each transgression from the start of his life to now, he lived with each decision, mistake, victory, loss, heartbreak. He remained, a weathered mountain amongst the blizzard, and wondered if this was how his life should remain. An endless pattern until the world decided that it was time up, game over, and his world hopping would stop long enough for his life to be done.

Tiberius was stiff as he stared at the reflection in the water, his expression furrowed on one side — the side that's movement wasn't stopped by broken and marred flesh. "Fuckin' fuck," he groaned, dropping his rump to the ground and licking his nose in dismay.

Would he find himself, he wondered?

Would anything take away the pain of knowing he could not willingly go and see his children?

Would any part of him repair, instead of being chipped away and stolen?

He frowned further, leg coming to scratch at the side of his neck as he felt both lost and young, old and tired. He had been so close to feeling some type of carefree joy, if only for a sliver of time, and it had been gone as quickly as it had come. Bunny's company had given Tiberius a reminder of when he had been but a boy, still riddled with trauma but able to banter and bicker.

Groaning, Tiberius let his leg drop and he arched his head back to the sky and inhaled deeply, letting the crisp air flourish in his lungs.

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A travesty. Land ousted from beneath her feet, she was ensnared again in a nameless land—trees nor hills with a touch of familiarity. Even the stars and the way they aligned were all different. Strewn over the pitch-black sky in a pattern never seen.

The sable wolf had little left to do, perhaps save for the single aim of survival— even that had grown strenuous with the ache in her shoulder where she'd collided with the ground. Vasilisa weaved between the dense woodlands, clambered over frost-laden ridges, and strode upon the thawing hills. And with each landmark she passed, the question would replay in her mind; why was she doing all of this? What was the point?

Whatever she'd done in years past to atone for her youthful mistakes had been demolished by the malevolence of fate. What now? What came next? Was she supposed to sit there and patiently wait for whatever divinity had planned for her?

Not if she could help it.

Black nose hovered close to the earth, tail swaying idly at her hocks. Her withers were jutting from her back—and as she walked, it merely became more evident that the contours of her ribs were beginning to jut out from her sides. Not yet starvation, but visible neglect. Silver eyes were downcast, watching the fluttering bits of wizened foliage, stepping diligently over the occasional rock or branch that was strewn over the soil. Ears swiveled like radars, straining against every sound that reverberated—

And that was when she heard it. A curse, a groan, the steady beat of footfalls. Her nape arched, her head rose like a startled doe. Her tail was sharp. Stiff. Her lips twitched. Her brows furrowed.

Whoever was around was close. Vasilisa was prepared for whatever confrontation may ensue—peaceful or otherwise.

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