Emotion, perhaps, is not truly the forte within the gleaming golden male. For all his intelligence, for all his ability to see and understand that which so alludes others, it is the most basic of emotion that is given to allude him in turn. Emotion, after all, is not logical, has no barriers, no contrasts, cannot be restrained within the neat boxes of explanation his scientific mind so truly values and understands and craves within that. His embrace of her is instinctive, natural, driven by his desire to reconnected with she whom had once been a pack mate of sorts, she whom had followed himself and his brother from the wreck that was Moladion the day in which the earth had been shattered by the sky boulder, a phenomenon that still fascinates the male in its entirety despite the loss it had cost him. That tragedy perhaps, had been the final straw to fall upon an already laden mind. A Father whom had never accepted him, a Mother whom had not sought an academic son- but rather a warrior to carry on her campaigns and a life time of loss in between had perhaps seen the boy reject the fallacy that is futile emotion and it’s constraints. Feeling is hard, feeling is tiresome, feeling is entirely overrated and yet he cannot be free of it, nature will not allow it, empathy, care, love, these are natures design to assure the survival of a species bound to one another and as such it is perhaps with no ill manner of chagrin that the male accepts he feels….something within her embrace.

He has missed his companion, his comrade in arms and a female for whom so very long he has perhaps held a sense of entitlement, a belief of ownership that is boorish and masculine and decidedly, annoyingly instinctive and yet one he cannot fight so entirely despite the efforts he may offer on the contrary. Salem is….his companion and he is unwilling to a certain extent perhaps, to share this friendship as it rekindles once more. He moves to step back from her, her tongue a caress upon his cheek that sees a look of surprise linger somewhere within that charcoal gaze and yet one he readily dismisses as feminine affection, the gesture not wholly unpleasing within itself as he moves to recline before her- ears held forward in intrigue as to her answer. To…find herself? This answer alone readily sees his head tilt neatly to one side, so unscientific in it’s premise that he is very near incline to recoil from her. To find herself? What part of herself had she perceived she had lost? Since each of her appendages remained in place it could be only presumed that this was the sought of frivolous emotional journey he has spent the better part of his life given to mock. For now however, he remains silent upon such thoughts, uninclined to displease the ghostly female entirely.

It is her second sentence that so seems to return his intrigue upon her however, this reasoning seeming to be far more acceptable to the often irritable male, the boy readily finding impatience with others for their lack of mental ability and yet that which Salem offers is…acceptable in some sense, a desire for purpose not an entirely foreign topic to the golden boy, eyes of coal continuing to rest upon her now.

“I am given to suggest that perhaps you simply attempted to find your purpose incorrectly. To attempt to study such a thing alone is perhaps not the wisest of expeditions. To find your purpose you often need others to prove it to you, to display it to you, else to validate you in some form. It is basic politics really. To discover your purpose, you must first discover that about yourself which others value and seek to act upon it. It is my hypothesis that you simply need to find someone…who values you first, to show you that value within yourself and then seek to act upon it. Or you could try healing, a lot of wolves seem to be into that at the moment. It’s trend.”

A crooked, lopsided grin moved to mark his features, grinning readily towards the snowy wolf now. Pleased, entirely, to have her with him once more.