A single red ear swivelled as his name drifted in with a familiar scent delivered by a well-known voice. For a moment he didn’t turn, how long was it since he had last seen Mauja properly? He counted the seasons and two years lapsed, two years… Yet, as d’Artagnan turned his head to gaze upon his old friend, the same awry creases framed wet eyes lost down a lonely path. If the Nightshade remembered correctly, the last few times they had met had only told him that his closest kin had gone to a place that he couldn’t reach, a place he didn’t understand and feelings he wasn’t versed in. However, even now the corners of his ageing lips curled upwards into a steadfast smile, their years of comradely adventures were not so easily eclipsed, even if the Frostheart was determined to chase the forsaken trail into the abyss. Kou might’ve called him foolish, it was time to leave the old legends to history, but d’Artagnan believed there was something to be said about brothers in arms that meant walking away became an impossible notion.

Aramis looked up from his kill to cast a friendly glance to Irma and a more curious one to the eagle owl, the newest addition to Mauja’s growing flock of beady-eyed birds. Perhaps they would meet him one day, old and crippled, buried under a pile of feathers. Acknowledgement complete, Aramis returned to dining whilst his red hued companion bypassed greeting and nodded to the brown bird ball instead “is this a new hobby?” He inquired, his voice filled with amusement before he cast a glance to Aramis with a grimace. Yes, one Hellhound was quite enough, especially ones you had to fight Boggarts for.

Considering his friend again, d’Artagnan allowed a sigh to pass through his lips, what had they become? ”Where have you been?” He grumbled, all those seasons and not even one visit to the Basin, the shade had also run into his daughter the other day and even that poor girl seemingly had very little to do with her elusive father. He wondered if the spotted clod found it amusing to leave him unallied against the new generation of Basin idiots who floundered around thinking they knew everything about the world. Even one of its Leaders shared the blood of an equine and Deimos mutely continued on, but d’Artagnan was sorely outnumbered in his views and looking upon the face of Mauja, the life of an outcast wasn’t all that appealing either.

Was he not allowed to follow Kou to the other side? Where was karma when you needed it? How many had he killed, maimed, how many families had he destroyed and yet still, here he was. Perhaps this was karma, sentenced to living out the rest of his life in an alien world.

[ooc :: I can't match your length of ramble ;~; I tried]