His mind is unfocused, nothing particular of special interest floating around. All he sees are the marshes; feeling the soft earth beneath his paws. Holo used to be an avid day dreamer, someone to wonder and ponder about things he did not know. He ha always been so ready to learn anything, anything at all he could. And now that was gone. Instead, there was nothing. Simply nothing for him to look forward to, to want, to desire. There was the girl, but he did not know where she was. He had given up all together. He knew within himself that she still breathed, for he would know the moment she did not- but as for where she was, he did not wonder any longer. The silver phantom did not notice, but it had begun to very lightly snow, the flakes all floating and dancing to the ground around him. But he paid them no mind. Winter always reminded him of Saw Tooth, of the way the snow heavily clung to the branches of the trees. Nova, and playing in the white fluff with her. But those were the memorys of a life long since past. He was here now, in this land, continuing onward. He was not paying much outward attention to his surroundings when his muscles tensed up and his mind froze completely.

There was a scent, a perfume that he had known all his life. He had never once forgotten it, as proven by following it to this very land. It came from behind, and it was then that he realised he sensed another- extremely close. With his limbs rigid and tense, he willed himself not to turn. It was not her, not now, not here, of all places. He hadn't even gone to seek her out yet. It was too soon, and it had to be a figment of his imagination. Yes. When he had been thinking briefly about his family, his mind had decided to materialize her out of thin air. That's exactly what happened. But when her soft voice suddenly spoke up, Holo felt something within his breast melt. He could doubt no longer. Slowly, and yet to uneasy and unsure, the boy turned to face behind him. Moth. There she was, exactly as he remembered her. Perhaps a bit more white around the edges, but it was her all the same. The same earthy tones, the same warm, kind, caring brown eyes. He could hardly control himself, bu as for what might happen upon losing control, he did not know. But for the moment, he stared, his mismatched gaze of cobalt and honey brown wide in all their astonishment.

But there was more to his expression. Apprehension had marked permanent lines upon his features, and his scarrs twisted his dark lips on the right side of his muzzle, fourming something of a half grimace forever upon his features. It was not often he looked upon himself, but he knew what was there. And for this, part of him deeply worried. What if she did not recognize him. What if she wanted nothing to do with him? But this was Moth. This was his Mother- she had never been the wolf to turn anyone away. Anyone. His reply to her question came slow to his mind, his words quiet, soft, nervous. Though so much had changed on the outside and inside- his voice was the same. It had a feminine tone to it, and was gentle and almost the opposite how he looked now. “Very well, in fact..” He hadn't clearly answered her question, at least perhaps not to her he did not. To himself he did, and it was something close to talking to himself as well. Tilting his silver jaw to the right, he continued watching her in further silence, his mind unable to fourm the correct words.

Holo did not know what he would do if she could not remember him. Could he do anything? Walk away? Convince her of who he was? Do his best to remind her? So many options with so much uncertainty. His experiences had disturbed him deeply psychologically, and though he did not know it, the boy suffered from terrible anxiety and nerves. He wanted to go to her. To embrace her and make him remember him. But he stayed his ground. He could not go forward, no matter how much he willed himself to. He couldn't even take a single step forward. And the expression upon her face- there's ever so slight recognition, but the rest is telling him she's ready to bolt. Why? So eager to get away from him? It caused a plummeting feeling to tear through his chest, but he ignored it, shoving it deep where it belonged. He did not feel such things, he did not think of them. They were something mostly long gone, and some buried deep within his core. But he had to know, he had to speak to her again, even if his voice threatened to break. “Do you not know me?..” Pauses in his speech gave way to his fear as well as everything else. The phantom did not hope for the best. For to hope at all is to only be led to disappointed. A lesson he would never forget.

“Talks like this”

seven - male - Moth x Faol'an - lone