It has been a long time since they saw each other, but even back then, the pinkish fuzz of his coat had given way to dark and ruddy, brackish grey from compelled malice. By now it has washed-out some, from decades of pacing and the occasional nudge from his master to try and break the habit of destruction and cruelty. Perhaps it was meant to be temporary; Laetes remains dull and slightly hunched.

He flashes teeth and rumbles with a low growl as Sweetheart approaches, his fur sticking up like pins - and perhaps tinging ever so slightly blacker at the ends, as if scorched by some unseen flame.

A subtle hand runs down the wolf's back, silently bidding him to stay.

To his credit Lethys does not move from his hovering perch above the Wonder. Even though the strength of their presence nearly blinds. Staring a more powerful god in the face unflinching is a skill he has had plenty of time to hone.

Disbelief, indeed, and they're not the only one. No doubt Monzun would have preferred to find him gone and his Temple razed.

"I am as alive as you deigned to leave me," he barks, only a little defensively. Caution, first. Quickly, he demands: "What of Nemesis?"

He knows. Every particle of his being knows. ...But he has yet to hear it.