The moment the words leave his lips, she is rushing toward him. He cannot help the way he tenses up in preparation for the contact.This is Moth, this is his mother. He knows better than to think she would hurt him, but his body does not trust. His mind and heart do completely and utterly. The sound that she makes has a silent shudder wrecking his body. It sounds so.. broken, so heart broken and he aches for her; he aches for himself. The silver phantom then feels soft fur against his own, the warmth of her pushing against his chest and embracing him. Her touch is gentle and it melts him, causing him to lean against her and close his mismatched eyes. Not in all the years since he had last been in his home had he felt such a way. It was comforting, it was secure. It was home. Though he is older now, he has no qualms about the way she washes her tongue across his face, his chest, his neck. Anywhere she seems able to reach. She's also speaking while she's at it, and Holo knows that she could never forget him. But her exact words caught him slightly off guard- his scars. The wolf had nearly forgotten that it was after leaving home that he had been savaged. This was the first time in a long time they had seen one another- mother and son, and to top it off he was a wreck.

Moth did look for him after all, and the thought comforts him slightly. But then was then, and now is now. That is what matters at this point in time, right? He misses Nova and Max and Faol'an- but Moth is here, before him. And he would not leave her side again. Pushing himself gently into her, leaning down so that his muzzle could gently nuzzle along the side of her neck. He had missed her, dearly, and it felt now as if there was warmth within his breast again. Something he had not felt for years. But upon her last question, there was a slight pause before he answered. It was so that he could take a breath to steady himself. With his voice came the slight notion of shaking his head. “He paid for nothing.” It was almost shameful to Holo at this moment- or at least that's how it felt. He felt small, but not insignificant before her. Almost like a child. And that's exactly what he was to her, after all. Regardless of how old he was, of how many years had passed, he would forever remain Moth's son. It had never really dawned on the boy to begin with to gain vengeance on the wolf that had savaged his face, his chest, shoulders, and back leg. Life had simply gone on.

The thought that the wolf before him would want to protect him and do whatever need be for him had memories of his childhood rushing back. She had always been there, always been supportive of him in any and all choices. She had taught him some, albeit not all, but what she had shared had been vital. It helped him learn, to grow, and to become the wolf he was today. Which was what, exactly? Was Holo truly a hollow husk, or was there more to him that had simply been.. buried? Had it taken reuiniting with his Moth to bring him out of the pit he had been in for years? Most of his life, infact? The thought was perplexing, but it was not something he wanted to focus on. Instead, he merely wanted to enjoy the fact that he had found her, or rather, she found him and they were together. He would not be leaving again. Drawing away ever so slightly, just enough to be able to gaze down upon her with mismatched irises, the mostly silver and grey boy watches the warm, earth toned one before him. How he had missed her, her scent, her voice, her kind gaze. It felt as if life had been suddenly shoved back inside of him, and he was thankful to her for it. Thankful for so many things he did not have the words for.

“Talks like this”

seven - male - Moth x Faol'an - lone