Masamune had heard about Tinuvel from his father. Sephiroth did not like to speak of the island he hailed from often, but Masamune had annoyed him enough times that Sephiroth had eventually (and reluctantly) opened his mouth. His ever-green eyes would grow distant and sad, his jaw would clench, and his lips would tighten. It was obviously a place that held a grip on him even if Sephiroth was loathe to admit it. Masamune didn't think he'd ever find a reason to go there other than his own curiosities. He had been traveling, for a time, and only recently returned to Luthien. But his need to know more about his family history outweighed any reasons not to go. The swim had been easy enough, but he had not been prepared for how much colder the water was around the snow-dusted island.

He'd experienced winter before and thus Masamune was aware of, and had lived through, snow. But nothing could have prepared him for the sheer amount of snow. He stepped onto the shore of the Bay, shivering in his thin coat. He shook the salt water from his skin, eager to get every bit off him as the remaining bits froze to his white hair. He was hidden quite easily among the light snow, the palest of color spattered across his face.

He moved inland, curious about who or what may lay just beyond the tree line. It does not take him long to hear the huffing of a nearby bear. They had them in the Thicket as well, and he'd never gotten close. It only takes a few more grunts for Masamune to realize the creature is not far from him. He halts, holding his breath, and waits for it to pass by peacefully.

Or at least, he hopes.