He had made a decision. Whether or not said decision would be in his best interest was entirely up for debate and yet, he had at least made one. It had felt like aeons since he had been able to stand on solid ground and now, he had come to a conclusion that he had not expected from himself. Youthful arrogance, however, had a way of fading in the light of older age and wearier eyes. He had seen enough change to begin understanding that he, too, had to change in order to adapt to the world around him. No longer did he have a family to stand guard and no more was he protected by the role of leadership; had he spied a silver ghost in the corner of his eye as he traversed the free lands? In the end, everything seemed to point him in the most logical direction: he had to settle down.

Once, he had been wild. He had rebelled against Trenus' family-like structure and he, with his sister, had ventured into the free lands. Then, the fire storm had come and he and his family had been entirely displaced. Even then, he had seldom settled down and he ventured far from his mother and Voltaire. Glorall had been the first time he had settled down. It had been his first true home and he had lost that. To find another? He'd never really considered it and yet, he had also never considered losing Caligula entirely. His need to control had failed him. It had been a difficult thing to accept in any case.

Still, he had to consider Leviathan too. He had been unable to show her the gratitude she deserved and yet, he could feel a longing from her that he feared he would not be able to satisfy. What did he have, after all, besides from the fur on his back and a miserable limp? His time in the shadows had been long enough. He ought to be a father, a wolf of society once more, and a provider. It was the least he could do.

Came the rising sun, came his rising voice. He called for her, Leviathan that is, on the clearest of the borders. Summer brought a humid mist to the swamps and yet, it held a beauty in itself; as the breeze rolled across the land, the mist parted and revealed the fading flowers of spring and vivid green of the reeds. The sky was clear and the sun warm as it began to crest over the ocean, illuminating the water of Iromar gold as the sky became bruised with purple and blues. He called for her and then watched the sun begin its ascent, breathing slowly in an effort to still his mind as it desired to race forward into dangerous thoughts, dangerous insecurities. He hadn't asked Praetor, after all, and yet... he wanted to believe that his son would welcome them fully. He wanted to believe that some part of Leviathan would at least come to love the swamps despite her affinity elsewhere. Asteraia was simply... not safe, undesirable, at least to him.