Someone willing to share a life story, with him? He'd seldom felt special, but her words struck a chord somewhere in there, in the dark of his soul. Perhaps she wouldn't mind?

"On the contrary," he countered the female's latter statement. Turning his head to avoid a shower of ice water, just in case, the black brute smoothly rose to his feet, watching the twisting of her body as she shook the excess from her creamy coat.

Though he felt strangely, he couldn't help but to hope that perhaps the exchange would be carthartic for the both of them.

Fair enough, he thought quietly. His past? The male went still for a moment, the life seemingly slipping from his chilling eyes. Flashes of faint childhood memories - the oldest he could remember - streaked through his senses. The smell of saltwater. Gentle, navy and foam waves lapping upon a rocky, pebbled shore. His footprints in grey sand before being washed away like the rest of his life, or what would have been his life. He hadn't shared his past, his story with anyone - not even Jaysyek - but then again...she'd never really delved that far.

Now emotionless, quieted by the heaviness in his head, he watched the female's mannerisms and the way she attempted to make sense of the confusion he'd apparently caused in her. It was understandable, after all he had been...well...ready to rip her head off, or anyone else's. Although he wasn't the friendliest, or most caring or compassionate being, he was still alive, burdened by emotion and regrets, and memories, as everyone was, in their own rights.

A gentle sigh escaped from beneath his breath as he watched Vlarindara settle into a drift of snow, and the coal figure mindlessly layed down not far from her. He was in no way comfortable talking about things he'd worked so hard to push from his mind and memory, but in a way, somehow, his despair would be safe with her.

"I was born into a small pack, not far from the sea," he started, his voice monotonously recounting what he could remember. "...Sometimes I still dream of the gulls' songs..." This was torturous. The male gulped down the feelings of weakness. "It was a small pack, my parents and uncle and I...I had two littermates, a brother, Senna, and a sister, Beya..." Names he would respectfully pass to his children, should he ever see fatherhood. "She did not survive to leave the den. My brother- well I have yet to solidify a conclusion concerning his whereabouts, or whether he's even alive." The words were like a whisper as his brows pulled together in a hard line.

"My parents were killed by an expanding pack, unable to fend for us all and our territory after my father's brother was lost during the snows of my first winter." That was all he could offer the female, for lack of concern for the details. It was by no means a tragic end to a notable family, which was the hardest part to swallow; they were simply lost now, gone, as though swept away by the ocean's waves, with no one but himself to care or tell their stories. No one to remember them, no one to learn from their hardships and perseverances...No one to comfort him as he wandered from their demises.

And he did wander, for many seasons, each drawing him further from the saltwater that was the strongest reminder of what parts of the world actually meant something to him. He did not find another home, another pack, until he'd found Jayse and the Hollow that superficially filled the shameful emptiness suffered by the Attaya male. Shame stemming from the lack of a legacy to continue, his lack of meaning.

His eyes slowly looked for her one, a part of him hoping that she would lack judgment of his modest mediocrity.

Relief washed over him.

Vlarindara's words rang true, meeting his ears with a soft quality he naturally associated now with the rolling angles of her silver mask. Carried forth by the burdens you bear... He certainly was, and wondered now if she, too, was propelled through her life in such a way.

A tangible feeling of attachment gnawed at the man's defenses, and a dull tinge of guilt played like an old love song in the back of his wandering mind. In the long months since he'd first stepped foot on the grounds of Relic Lore, not a soul - save his closest companion - had reached out to him, to comfort him as she had in the blink of an eye. Intimidated by the emotion her support had stirred in the muck of his wellbeing, his gaze descended to the ice, dirt, and snow beneath his wide, silver and black toes briefly. She...understood...listened like only one other had, and there was no denying that a good vent was exactly what he needed. A twitch to his right ear and a flick of the tip of his thick tail would be the only outward signs of his anxiety, and a new wave of strength gave him the courage to speak openly with her,

"I have," he agreed humbly, "though sometimes I fear the same wind will also be my destruction." The dark figure watched the breeze cut through her feathery coat, an unease about him as she shivered. It was on his mind to shield her from the cold, to wrap himself around her body so that he didn't have to see the shewolf - an unsettled, would-be soft spot on his cold, hard heart - suffer, but he would leave her safely in her personal space.

"It sounds like you may endure such a force in your life, as well..." It was more of a question than a statement, his tone as smoothly serious as his piercing metallic orbs.

He considered her reply solemnly, marvelling in the white lady's wisdom. Yes, he thought to himself, you are right. After all, if it were not he to keep himself from being overcome by his own burdens, no one would. But the words she'd spoken did little to satisfy his inquiry, and he hungered to hear more of her story. More directly, what pack she'd formerly belonged to?

"Vlarindara...Where did you once belong, in Relic Lore?" The last thing he wanted was to push the woman, but he felt comfortable enough with her at this point to refrain from holding back.

He'd felt a little too comfortable.

With little hesitation the scrawny shewolf had risen to her feet silently, and he knew in an instant that he'd come too close for comfort. The man watched as if from the sidelines as Vlarindara faded into the white scene as if she'd been a part of the snow and ice to begin with - a haunting spectre.

He was left in a bitter solitude to remember what it was like to be all alone.