[Armand]

It had been a long time, seasons had passed and the world moved on, with or without Arcana. It was hard to simultaneously be aware of and ignore just how small one's existence was. The tribe had tried so hard, struggling to survive, fighting its way back from many a tragedy and slow death. It had gone away and come back many times over, but now, now there was nothing left.

True, the crater still remained, nestled in the territory of Nardir, taken away by wolves. Survivors and remainders had parted ways or tried to find a life among beasts, tried to settle and move on while the memory of Arcana faded away. That was easier said than done for some.

For Armand so many questions had been left unanswered, too many doors left open, and a very large hole left in his life where one young leader once stood. It was selfish to think for even a second that he was the only one who felt the absence of Cerys, she had a family after all, and they'd taken the loss of her and her brother just as hard, he was no fool to think that his pain was any better. He simply couldn't bear standing side by side with the wolves and try to build up from nothing all over again. What Cerys had done had meant something, and to try to forget that and move forward with the Nardiri who could not begin to understand was unfathomable to Armand.

Reason and patience escaped him, he couldn't be calm and practical with her gone. Two leaders swept away in a fight to bring family back home. They deserved more in their memory if nothing else. There was a deep denial though, Armand couldn't pay his respects in the way others might, placing flowers at the base of the trees whose decorations and offerings fell to disrepair with the leader of the House of Grey gone away. That was not enough. He couldn't bring himself to leave a gift to a ghost.

He'd left, torn surely, between the help he knew he could offer to those whose hearts were broken, and finding answers. Armand, with only the briefest second thoughts, had gone north. Missing. That was all they had to offer. No one saw her fall. Takoda described Prosper slipping beneath the ice, but no one could offer an answer to where Cerys had gone.

Maybe she could be found.

That was many moons back. Armand had made the dangerous and foolish trek toward the tundras, to the place where Grimsthrope was. Where it... had been. He'd found... nothing? Too much time had passed to be able to find any signs of the struggle and infiltration that had taken place, the land had claimed all the tracks, naturally. But... all the inhabitants, the thieves who'd come in the night and taken with them the family Arcana had created, they were gone. Every one of them gone. There was no saying where they'd disappeared to, if they'd run, perished or chased. There were no answers, no closure. No Cerys. Nothing was gained from the journey, and Armand felt himself aged by it, by the absence of anything.

Armand returned to the Straits since then, finding himself wandering a little more aimlessly through neutral territory, narrowly avoiding lands inhabited by wolves. He'd never found himself considering them enemies the way he did now, glancing with more disdain than he'd ever been capable of. So much for the peaceful doctor, looking to stand in neutrality and hope. Grasping at optimism was a struggle in his lone travel, trekking forward like he might again find a purpose. There was no Arcana to seek out, no ghosts to be chased. There was no where else to go, and it was maddening.

It was an awful and painful familiarity that reached out to him, whenever he nestled beneath an old oak tree and gazed up at the sky, wondering why the sky looked so dark. He remembered trying to show her the stars, telling her to watch the way they shined with purpose. There was no guidance to them tonight, just inky black void. It felt empty. Breathing deep, Armand found himself unable to gaze at the nothingness anylonger, and rose to his feet. He'd push forward again, looking for nothing, hoping for something, in spite of everything.