Lone Star Mountain In your eyes, there's a heavy blue.

The sandy male confirmed the meaning behind his name with a dip of his head, and a smile tugged at the peppered yearling's two-toned features as he rose his proud crown. There had been a time when, as a young boy, Talion had longed to integrate himself among the Nereides. He'd studied their faith fervently, learned to love the Mother Sea and Mother Moon, despite the disapproval of the she-wolves and the discouragement of his father. His persistence never paid off, as he was forced by the priestess' to recognise that, as a spawn, Talion could never be one of them. Heartbroken, he returned to being a shadow: out of sight, out of mind, and silent until spoken to.

Kerberos looked at him, a spark of familiarity in his bright eyes, and Talion's anxiety begins to creep up on him. Did he know his father, from another time? Notturno had told tales of his own birthplace, of the family he'd left behind there, how the Mother Sea had tried to claim him and the Nereides had saved him from Her grasp in exchange for his alliance. He'd been one of the first consorts to settle at Astarte Strand, and no other had bested him for his position of Epivitoras. Unlike Talion, Notturno had lived there comfortably. He was respected. Wanted. 

His body tenses noticeably, and he braces himself. Raven guard hairs rise to stand on edge along his dorsal and an ear is canted back, uncertainty bright in his frosty eyes. "How? Talion asked, anxiously trailing his salmon-pink tongue across an upper lip. "From where?"