I can see the truth

@Vengeance shitty post is shitty cus what is writing halp

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The world had moved on without him, it seemed - but he didn't mind. As no one visited him, the stormcloak had retreated into the safety of his own bubble for the winter. It wasn't on purpose at first, the whole being alone thing, but nearing the beginning of spring he found himself avoiding others more regularly. He watched from the shadows the ongoing matters within the Reach, mindlessly did his duties before nightfall and then slumbered for a few hours - never more than three or four. The cycle gave him some sense of stability and structure, but really he was just wrecking himself, until today when he decided it was about time to break free of the self-loathing.

He wandered their woods with a sense of purpose. He had taken a bath for the first time in what seemed like forever that morning, and his coat was still drying as he searched for something to do.

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Some part of him expected Grumble to be the first to greet him. It always seemed like she had some kind of radar for anywhere he went and anything he did. The silence felt much deadlier without her around, like when you noticed the birds stopped singing when danger lurked ahead. He couldn't exactly pinpoint his feelings about her, but as she had been such a constant factor in the past... Gods, did he actually miss that slobbering, mangy excuse for a woman? No, no this moment was more like breaking free from a captor.

His brows raised at the approaching figure of his father. It was only natural for the Warlord to know of things happening in his woods, but Almight hadn't thought the resurrection of his son would be enough to lure the behemoth out. Perhaps it was simply morbid curiosity that led him to seek him out, to see what his failed Rache son was up to now that he wasn't feeling sorry for himself anymore - but, in a way, it almost felt like he cared.

Almight smirked. “Spring is the season of rebirth.” He answered the nonquestion. “It was about time.”

He couldn't promise that, once the world died around him again, he would not die with it - all he could promise was that he would rise as many times as it would take to stay afloat.

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He was used to the no-love approach from his father, so his words hurt him little. There was only one real way the Warlord could motivate him, and shape him to his will; praise whatever he did right, and ignore the rest. Almight was very much someone who already received enough criticism from the voice within his head - but to get a compliment? It would mean the world to him, and, in a way, he was and would be chasing that end for the rest of his days.

“I fear you underestimate how badly I want to be of use.” He responded airily. “I will crush even your precious sons and daughters to stay where I belong.” But, truly, he wished to do no such thing. Perhaps he could instead befriend those who sought to challenge him, earn their respect or at least their willingness to listen in some way. He had no use for more enemies.

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He almost wanted to respond; "then use me..." but he felt it was better to keep his mouth shut. The time had grown static, and there was little for him to do without directly turning to violence. He'd think of something, he'd show he could provide for this horror-show of a pack just as much as his father.

He clicked his tongue as he licked his teeth. “I'm looking forward to it.” He answered, finally turning and walking past Vengeance. If not stopped or interrupted, he'd return to his den for the night to think of something to impress him.

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