Elohim felt a little guilty about feeling almost proud of himself for having done so little. It's what he had intended, after all. He didn't want to overhaul the hierarchy or reach out to other leaders with pleas for diplomacy. Elohim wanted to sit, think and work out a plan forward that didn't involve him at the helm, and that looked a lot like doing nothing. In truth, he had been considering all the names and natures the other packs had provided him with. Were any of them the right decision? How did somebody even approach a stranger with that kind of offer? Sometimes, he thought about going to Taviora, to see if Aster had any thoughts on what he ought to do. Then, he'd laugh to himself and put the idea to rest. There was no way that would go as planned, or as well as he might have hoped for. He'd have half the mind to just give the damn place to her if he could, but what kind of offer would that be? Aster, he'd say, would you like to relive your younger years, with the looming threat of displacement, attack and loss hanging overhead? There was no way to make it sound like an attractive prospect.

While he had been doing a whole lot of nothing, he had also been ensuring she stayed concealed from anybody who had been sniffing around. It had become a sort of idle task, a border patrol where he'd just let his mind roam far, far away. He had been in the process of that patrol when he had found himself moving towards the shore instead, right into the heart of pack, the furtherest east one could travel lest he seek out the island beyond. Somehow, all of those thoughts had culminated in him seeking out Natiya.

He wasn't sure if she would want anything to do with him, but he thought it best to at least...check in? He imagined that was the correct word for it. At times, it felt like she was a prisoner in Glorall, kept there against her wishes and yet, at others, it felt like she was just another wolf in Glorall with a few questionable deeds to her name. It was easy to forget who Natiya had been. Elohim had stopped seeing her as Blackthorne's lackey, at least. He had started to see her as just Natiya.

"Argenti," he called out when he finally saw her ahead, then he picked up his pace in order to catch up to her. He dared not call out her name, and argenti seemed like an appropriate moniker. Silver - simple, for in the right light, she seemed to shimmer like the metal itself. If he had to compare it to anything else, he would have compared it to the way light reflected and danced along the water on a still day. There were no words for that, though.

"I think I have come to understand you better," he said with a quieter voice as he loped to meet her, giving her but a small bow of his head in greeting. Elohim was not so great at formalities - the hellos, the small talk - and neither was he good at picking his topics of conversation. "I'm coming to understand what it is to feel responsible - obliged, even - to be a particular thing, a particular wolf."