The cavernous depths of their home echoed with every step he took. Their young were few and far between, having grown anti-social from their mother's absence or from their mother's personality. Vendrek'kal personally held a little hope for the latter. It would be a better and more dear precious keepsake than the former, easily.

He left the lair to hunt, taking his time and consuming as much as his body would dare hold, even at a greater size. This preparation could be considered worrisome by some, but not by his kind. They would all understand, of course. Aurthur more than the rest, he knew. He felt for the other, though he hadn't been able to bring himself to leave the perimeter of his lair but in secret. He'd fallen victim to the whims of an emotion. It was something very uncharacteristic for the Primordial.

Time does not heal all wounds, it would seem.

What would it take for his Storm; his Heart, to return" When would Icer recover" These thoughts, among others, ran rampant in the Primordial's mind. The outcropping above the lair had held him now for three days. He hadn't moved an inch, and he didn't plan on it happening any time soon. He'd taken up a Sigil that was sacred. Only time and the return of his mate could budge him. A kind of waking hibernation, perhaps.

He and his watchtower of mountainous earth were set in stone, henceforth unable to do anything but wait.