It was simply a matter of sheer luck on Kaname’s part that Ira had been within hearing range of the ebony Silvertip man’s call. The summons, though had probably not intended to be as such, served to irritate the teen. A pause was given, steps halted as ears slicked back against his skull in contemplation. He wasn’t sure if he really wanted to answer it. He was not some lowly creature to be summoned at someone’s will. He was a Princeling and he did whatever he wanted for the simple fact that he could. A couple minutes had passed since Kaname’s call had faded and Ira still hesitated at the natural border of trees that would take him into the Heartwood. He had no real idea why Kaname would presume to summon him and though he was still relatively torn between irritation and curiosity the pallid Prince found himself turning and shouldering his way past the trees, pushing through the tangling bracken that grew on the earthen floor.

Quickly, and quietly Ira moved, weaving through the trees slowing his pace when he came across the man’s scent, slowing all together when he caught a glimpse of him. Kaname was laying down, his head resting casually on his paws. “I am not some fucking lap dog you can summon any time you please,” Ira told the man with a sneer as he stepped out, eyes of pale silver with fleck of crystalline blue around the pupils zeroing in on the man with unhindered disdain. “What is you want?” The Princeling demanded, because there had better well been a good reason why he was here.

Ira entertained the notion, as he made his way towards where Kaname’s summons had risen from, of punishments for the ebon male who had dared to summon him as if he were some sort of common mutt. He was no one’s lap dog and definitely not so low as to accept summons from wolves that Princeling thought by all rights should be under him. The Princeling watched the man roll his eyes, and thought that perhaps that was supposed to be his own reaction: the rolling of the eyes in annoyance; because Ira was annoyed that he’d been summoned. Apprentice, there it was like some big ugly infection in his mind. Apprentice. Ira nearly snorted and barely caught it before the air could expel from his black, leathery nostrils. He hated the word though he understood until he came of age that was all anyone would ever think of him: that he was an apprentice. That he had promise but lacked the necessary skills. He had plenty of skills and a dark mind to compliment them. Still, did he wish to humor Kaname by ‘agreeing’ to this lesson and quietly soak up anything the man had to teach him that he did not already know, after all Ira was contended with his knowledge of poisons not liking to get to the nitty gritty of killing. He was far too shallow for that.

His wound, possibly a future scar already bothered him more than he cared to admit to anyone. Scars were ugly and like many things Ira hated them. “Fine,” The pallid Princeling snapped in a ‘go ahead and wow me’ tone, brow raised in expectation.