He had left her that morning, parting ways knowing he would see her again. But now, now he wonders if he even should have left her? Her warmth and comfort had been far more peaceful and pleasing compared to what had met him in the plains. Perhaps he should have waited, stayed longer within Spirane with Daenerys as if to prepare himself. But he was not one to avoid the conflict, knowing in the end it could end up destroying all hope of something better. She had screamed at him, spoke her distaste of his appearance. And then all hell broke loose. She had come at him with every intention of ending her past, removing him as if were some infectious tumor. Biting, tearing, and promising threats he knew she was entitled too. While he did nothing, allowing her that escape of avenging all the pain he had caused her. He does not regret going to Asteraia and facing his past, but he would have changed the fact that Fjallraven had been there. Her cries and screams at Everlyse to stop still lingering in his ears, his friend was adamant at stopping the aggravated female yet not interfering like he had asked, for things could have gone far worse had she done so and he would have had no choice but to bring his sister to the ground. For even with the hope he has of reconnecting with his blood, they are nothing but mere strangers while Fjall means much more.

          This was his fault, this destruction was made by his hands alone so he cannot fault his sister on the rage and pain she still holds at her past. The arrival of the queen had diffused the situation somewhat, but he could still see the imminent threat within those vibrant orange eyes. There would be no happiness between them for a time, if ever. He had left not long after, broken and bloodied yet determined to find the mountains that soothed him. Making a short stop at the riverside to bathe the blood from his coat; best he could within the chilled waters, yet the damage is still very present. One eye is swollen shut - his face as well, numerous new wounds decorating it as it still bleeds slightly. His shoulder burns, patches of soft fur missing and revealing ragged punctures from enraged canines. The pain is not new, instead it is slightly comforting. Like a balm his soul knows all to well, for his life had been nothing but pain whether he was the one receiving or giving. After parting from the river the process is slow, following the path that Daenerys had taken him on not to long ago. Hoping that his friend would allow him within, his purpose nothing more than to have the comfort of her company.

          Spirane. Finally does he meet that wall of her scent head on, briefly closing his eye as he inhales it deeply. Before he turns to look, the thin layer of snow seemed almost angelic and ethereal. Maybe he should not be here? Tainting her mountain paradise with his sins. As a cold drip drops from his maw as he tilts his head down to witness the red against the white. It is no where as much as before but the recent travel had not been well on healing flesh so newly maimed. As he moves to turn, he inhales quickly at the burn his shoulder gives as he feels those wounds scream against the act yet he continues. As he begins to pace, questioning if he should stay or leave. She had not voiced her acceptance of him returning but was it needed? Back and forth he goes, causing a rift within the snow as it began to fall from the sky once again, the cold numbing his wounds as red streaks the white in his movement. Perhaps he should have waited before coming here? Allowed his wounds to scar over and heal? Could he leave without being seen? So many questions bombard his mind that it distracts him from reality, as he continues to pace as if on auto pilot. Looking down as he watches the blood smear and merge with the snow, trying to slow his racing heart as plumes of fog churn from his nostrils. Waiting for something.

Is this the end i feel?

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