It was... strange. In all his years spent wandering almost aimlessly, being nothing more than a vagabond unknowingly in search of something he had yet to see, feel, or understand, he couldn't recall a time where his path would lead him back to somewhere he'd been before. And yet, here he was, golden-hazel eyes tracing along the familiar, towering corporate offices and bustling streets of Sacrosanct. Though his time here had been brief, he can still remember with perfect clarity the few souls with whom his own life path had crossed. He remembers Raven well, the lion having saved the she-wolf from corrupt hunters who had pursued her through the woodlands beyond Sacrosanct's borders. In exchange for his simple act of kindness, she'd taken him back to her home and her pack, where they'd been hospitable, something that Roman was unaccustomed to when it came to his own kind beyond the bonds of his family. She'd left an imprint on the were-lion, one that he would not forget for the rest of his life. There had also been Malia, the were-coyote he'd shared a meal with one afternoon. She'd been curious of him and he of her. Their exchange had been a pleasant one, albeit brief. All the same, Roman was certain that should his golden-hazel gaze happen to fall upon her again, he would recognize her in less than a heartbeat. As those memories made years ago flicker through the man's thoughts, he is reminded of the bright and sweet little red panda he'd met one afternoon. How gentle and decidedly innocent she'd seemed to the were then, having obliviously climbed upon his side under the impression that he'd been a boulder or something. The simple summoning of that afternoon spent chasing butterflies with the small were before she'd turned their encounter into a game of tag brings a fond and soft smile. There had been a special place in his heart that she'd touched, reminding him so much of his younger sister, Trinity...

A soft sigh ushers from the man as he sits there in his booth alone, staring out the large window of that diner he'd decided to have breakfast at this morning. Flickering and fading like the scenes from a movie, he allows those past moments to melt away like morning dew. He was almost certain that while he remembered them, they likely did not remember him. This was the cost of being a drifter, never staying in one place for very long. He was about as forgettable as a perfect strange opening the door for someone. There would be a smile, perhaps even a kind word of thanks, but there would be no further influences left upon them. And, while perhaps it was all for the best that those he'd met here before did not recall his face or their brief time together, it was uncharacteristically difficult for Roman to forget them. Maybe it had been the simple fact that his time in Sacrosanct had been longer than his time spent in other cities or towns, and in turn, there had been impressions left upon the man's heart. After all, it would be only natural and even entirely expected that the longer one lingers, the better those odds of forming bonds with those that would come along. Roman had never intended to feel anything beyond neutral respect and fleeting intrigue when he'd met these faces from his past, and yet, it had been made quickly apparent upon his return to the city that these moments and the easiness with which he remembered their faces had stirred within him feelings of regret. This in and of itself had surprised him, the only other times he'd been made to feel this way having been when he'd left his family and when he'd left Kahla all those years ago. Before having discovered this city, he'd been careful to avoid forging any genuine friendships, knowing that this would be the end result when he inevitably moved on. It was easy to leave when there was no one to remember or miss. That was what he would always tell himself.

Now, he is left wondering how they were faring with life, if they were doing well for themselves and their loved ones. Had Abigail gone to Italy and fallen in love with the world so far from here? Was Malia thriving, living every moment to the fullest as he'd suspected her entirely capable of? And, Raven... was she still safe, or had she perished at the hands of those who had been hunting her that morning? It was likely that he would never really know. This was the price he would have to pay for letting others in. No, he did not - nor would he ever - regret for even a moment that he'd met them, come to know them if only by what he'd seen at their surface. What he did regret, though, was that he hadn't stayed here within the city. Had he stayed, then he might have come to call them true friends, souls that he would lay his one and only life down for. At times, Roman might find himself wondering what kind of life he could have should he simply allow his restless spirit to settle down somewhere, try and lay down roots of some kind... but that had never been how he lived, and after all these years, the were man knew nothing else. Even his family had been vagabonds, though more out of necessity and the determined will to avoid the hunters who sought them out. It had been all he's ever known, as a young and reckless creature and as a wiser (though still occasionally reckless) being who has spent his entire life wandering from one place to another, seeing the world only to find that there was still something missing in his own. As he sits there in that booth, a strong hand lifting the cup of coffee to his lips and taking a deep drink as he stares out the window lost in thought, Roman realizes that despite the many things he's seen and all the places he's traveled, there was still some lack of fulfillment there within him that yearned to find a purpose that went beyond drifting from one town or city to the next.

'Maybe Tristan is right. Maybe... it's time for a change'... Though his world has always been changing around him, perhaps it was the wrong kind of change he'd been searching for since leaving his family. Just maybe, there was a reason he'd found his feet carrying him back to this city, the one place where he'd made genuine connections with those outside his family. Only time would tell. He's pulled from his thoughts as the sound of approaching footsteps catch his attention, the were lion shifting his gaze from the world just outside to the blonde waitress coming to stand in front of his table, her smile bright and courteous."Is there anything else I can get for you today, sir?", she asks, a slender hand holding a piece of paper that was likely the ticket for his small breakfast of eggs, toast, and coffee. He offers her a small, polite grin in return."No, thank you", he replies, deep and masculine baritones warm in kind. She dips her head and places the bill on the table before taking away his empty plate and disappearing to a table nearby. Roman lowers his gaze to glance over the newspaper he'd purchased this morning, searching those classifieds for any potential odd jobs that someone might have placed a help ad for. He would need to find work soon, his funds only ever just enough to keep him going for a few days before he would need to genuinely become concerned about affording food and lodging. However, it wasn't a 'Help Wanted' ad that caught his attention. Instead, he notices an ad for a room. Truthfully, it would be nice to stay somewhere that wasn't a hotel with the constant coming and going of unknown and sometimes shady-looking individuals. And, if he wanted to try and make a place for himself here in this city, a room seemed to be a logical, practical step in that direction. In the end, the worst that could happen is that it would already be taken or the other tenant would decline him.

He'd called the number on his burner mobile phone, surprised to hear a woman's voice answering his call, and yet during their brief conversation, she'd informed him that the room was still for rent and, even more surprisingly, had agreed to meet him. Collecting his hiking backpack with all that he owned tucked away within it and standing from where he sat. he retrieves the bill left by the waitress, pays for his meal at the register, and exists the diner. From what the woman had said, Hawethorn Village wasn't far from here, only about a thirty minute walk. As he walks along the bustling city streets, the were lion makes a mental note of what he'd chosen to wear today. A plaid button-down shirt, relaxed fit jeans, and his black frock coat. Despite his life as a wanderer, the were lion prided himself in taking great care of his things, so these clothes were clean and in good shape, though perhaps only slightly faded from the sun and their age. Roman has always traveled light, owning only two or three other shirts and jeans along with a single pair of slacks, a white button-up dress shirt, and shoes to go with this formal attire that he's hardly worn. Everything he had to his name was now currently slung over his back as he made his way towards the residential district, golden brunette hair neatly groomed, strong hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, his overall posture calm and casual. Then, at last, he reaches the address that had been in the newspaper ad. It was a... well, simple-looking building, seeming to show some age on the exterior. He walks up the two stairs before standing in front of the door, reaching up with one hand and knocking three times. He was only left waiting for perhaps a moment or two before the door opens, a petite Asian woman standing in the doorway."Hello, miss. Would you happen to be the woman I spoke with regarding a room for rent?", he asks politely, slightly graveled baritones spoken through a kind, courteous smile.