While I know what my duties are, wanting to do them is another task entirely. Begrudgingly only I’ve left the borders of the Basin, so far, more than happy to spend my time morosely meandering from one side of it to the other, or winding without mission through the evergreens. Occasionally, I’d even followed some of the herd about, inconspicuously as I might learning what may or may not be useful to me. Mostly, I was using it as an excuse to do nothing, because, I guess, part of me thinks that by refusing to move forward, even though Time is obviously full body shoving me that way, I can make everything stop.

I might even make it go back.

It’s entirely coincidental that I’m walking passed the sagging Sentinels then, when the pair arrive. Standing out like a patch of pale sand against the green and grey realm of the mountain vale, Toulouse, one of the men I’ve been tasked with telling what to do (as if I’d told him to do anything yet), draws my attention first. My first thought at noticing him is to quickly skirt away, while wishing Duir was here, so he could help me in the endeavor.

Muttering about his whereabouts, I begin to turn away, already gathering my muscles to carry me off at a quick trot (canters and gallops are too suspicious), when someone else catches my attention.

Zünden!

Though I’d certainly been closer to her brother, Adelric being the cause of the sudden hope which rises unwelcome through the dark roar of my mourning at the sight of her, I can’t help but feel a certain sense of joy within myself that she’s here, even if my old friend isn’t. Apparently being the sort of dude who deals with change quite badly, the absence of such familiar faces of hers about the valley had left a growing void that at one point, had pushed me out into the wilderness. Though I was going to try and stay now, for the sake of Erebos, Tiamat, and the others I had or would become close to, the sight of the large, gray woman on the horizon certainly helps me solidify that notion.

I trot to the threshold of the Basin, now, rather than away, a call of welcome arriving before I do. Stopping before them, I nod my gratitude to the Phantom who had brought my friend home, before placing my gilded gaze on her, with a warm smile, considering the frigid state of my soul.

"Thank you, Toulouse, yeah?" I half guess, not giving a shit if he’s offended or not (he’ll figure out its nothing personal in time, I’m sure; I treat everyone this way), "Zünden. I haven’t seen you since I first came home, what? Two years ago? What have you been up to? Is…"

Is Adelric with you? I almost ask, but no one else is arriving through the gap in the stone, and I know better than to pose stupid questions. With an ear falling back as that dagger slowly sinks in, I try to get my shit together, quickly hiding the painful diminishing of hope behind a stare which grows more and more empty, each time I resort to using it.

"It’s good to see you," I say, instead, returning to those who are here, "Erebos should be here somewhere. He'll be glad you're back, too."