Arrow Lake i've only opened up legs before

@Praimfaya maybe? but AW!

With his new name held before him like a burning torch, Stag clambered up the slope that marked the den of his last remaining playmate, family excluded. Now that the pale argent and her brood were excused from Diaspora, Stag's inner play-circle had crumbled onto itself like the collapse of a dystopian society.


Stag did not know it yet, but the instinct that drove him to Praimfaya was the same instinct that had driven Stigmata to collect and bed not one, but three women -- while the first of Stigmata's fruits was young, that instinct was only just a bud on a slender sapling. Soon it would grow, and spread. For now he was just moved by a basic instinct that told him to covet the last of his playmates, that somehow was more important than his siblings because she was not a sibling.

"Pri?" Stag chirruped from outside the den, wary of Praimfaya's mother. He wanted to tell the girl about his new name, but recalled Blodreina was not a soft woman, and instilled in him the same chilling fear his father sometimes did.

praimfaya is busy training with @Blodreina, following her mother's barking commands in trigedasleng as she works on stance and footwork in the limitations of the birthing den. soon, she'd heard her parents discuss, they would be move to a bigger den better suited to accommodate the three of them comfortably as praimfaya continues to grow. you are blood of the commanders. fight like it, wanheda. again. praimfaya, with swift footwork — mindful of the limiting stone walls of her birthchamber — blodreina's rush, her attention snapping from her mother as pri? calls from outside the den ...only to be trounced by blodreina with a "oof!" as a result. never drop your guard, wanheda. blodreina warns her, letting praimfaya up with an affectionate nudge to her cheek. good work. go play. we'll pick this up later. blodreina encourages with a quiet rumble.

without needing further invitation praimfaya scrambles outta the den after bidding her mother goodbye with a small lick to her chin. for a moment — foolish though it was — she'd almost hoped the voice had been dragomir ...that he and his pale sister had returned despite their general's words of banishment. she was still trying to wrap her mind around the finality of such a word but praimfaya was quick and sharp enough to understand that it meant they wouldn't be coming back any time soon.

she recognizes the pale and soot colored boy that stands outside her family's den as the general's son ( one of them anyway ). hei, praimfaya greets him as she exits the den.

Stag's eyes dance up and down the dark mouth of the den, waiting. He isn't about to test his luck, not with the mother so close.. but he can hear signs of sparring within, and his tail starts to wag as he detects the footfalls of his friend approaching.

Praimfaya emerged, the den's shadow blading across her fur as she stepped into the sunlight. Stag instinctively corrected his careful slouch, puffing his chest out as he responded with a cool "Hei," in return. He had no idea it was a different tongue he spoke, for it sounded similar to his own language.. but he wanted to imitate the cool collection that Praimfaya seemed to exude in spades.

Dropping to his chest in a playbow, Stag eyed Praimfaya with a playful growl. "Guess what I got today," The boy teased, his rump in the air still.

praimfaya's chin lifts — an imperious gesture that indicates she is, perhaps, more aware of her birthright as wanheda than even she is consciously aware of — as she notes the general's pale son's shift of posture upon her approach. the young commander of death regards him with a small sly smile as he returns her greeting. it is close enough to common, making the 'hey' sound so that the trig and common are entirely indistinguishable except perhaps in the terms of formalness of the translation; still, it pleases her. she prefers to communicate in trigedasleng as much as she can. it is a bonding point for her and her warrior mother, after all ...and secretly, it is how linkon speaks to her during those rare occasions when the spirit of the first wanheda shares his wisdom with her.

her gaze follows his movements as he slips languidly into a play bow followed by his playful growl which elicits an answering curl of her lips defined as equally as playful by the sway of her tail. guess what i got today. a guessing game. the chances of her guessing correctly were ...well, entirely slim to none. hm, praimfaya draws on a breath, humoring him. you got your butt kicked? she teases him with a devilish and challenging grin. she didn't think he'd really have sought her out to tell her he'd lost a squabble with one of his siblings though ...especially not with that proud-as-a-peacock puff of his chest that hadn't fallen beneath her notice.

it was just extremely fun to tease him and praimfaya does it because she suspects it might dig beneath his skin and for some reason she wants to see if she can manage to accomplish it. a subtle judge of how much her opinion might matter to him. the truth is she doesn't think he'd be easy to beat in a spar. if his father is any sort of indication to what kind of man the pale boy before her'll be: he'd make a fine cheka. proud. stalwart. powerful. a warrior. or perhaps he wouldn't. her own father was large and covered in scars but more peaceful than her fierce ( and notably smaller ) mother.

what'd you get? she asks him in all seriousness, the teasing vanishing as she shifts her focus back to the lingering mystery at hand.

Stag puffed his chest again, waiting for Praimfaya to guess: her first guess elicited an airy scoff. Him? Butt-kicked? The idea was inconceivable. Of all the lake brats, Stag liked to think himself the most formidable -- who would even put him in his place, his brothers?

He'd like to think not.

He shook his head slowly, imparting grave importance in the gesture. It was a stark change from the teasing of before, though there was still a glint to his gaze. He stretched like a cat, his tail wagging. "Nope." He wanted to draw out the suspense just a little longer, but he was too impatient to share his good news... so... standing stiff, Stag sucked in a breath and blurted: "I got named. I'm Stag now, according to my Papa."

He looked to Praimfaya carefully, hiding his need to be validated -- but it was there as he weighed her reaction, waiting for praise or indifference.

praimfaya lets out a soft titter at his scoff at her first and only guess. of course that hadn't been it — affirmed by the shake of his head — but his reaction had amused her and thus accomplished it's goal. good. the wanheda says then with a sly curl of her lips as she appraises him. truth be told, she'd have been disappointed if she'd been right. it was no secret that praimfaya expected only the strongest to hold company with her. she was a wanheda after all. granted, strength came in many different forms besides just it's physical manifestation ...but there was plenty of time to learn that as she got older. right now all she appeared to care about was physical strength, likely as that was the focus of blodreina's current lessons with her.

a name. had she been aware that he hadn't had a name before? in that abstract way that a child was aware of such things. her own name was bristling with both importance and culture ...according to her mother. but it was the title of wanheda that praimfaya treasured the very most. now that it's been brought to her attention she realizes that she hadn't ever really had anything specifically to address him or his siblings by asides from: "hey you" and "no, not you. the other one".

stag. praimfaya repeats it carefully, testing it out on her tongue. as far as names go: it's simple to pronounce and easy to remember. if his father gave it to him then it must fit him, she thinks, but if there's a deeper meaning to it she's far too young to understand the ways in which he emulates the name. i like it. praimfaya decrees decisively.

'Stag.' Praimfaya tested the name, as Stag looked on in masked apprehension. That single syllable, foreign to him but his own, caused his heart to burst. It was his name now, his identity, and he wore it with pride.

That did not mean, however, that he did not care how it measured in others' eyes. If anything, he might have cared a bit too much. He was young yet, and still very malleable: the impressions of others made a whole big deal to him.

She liked it. He could tell by the affirming tone, the way she looked at him after unabashed. She was not lying; not that he could see. "Me too." Stag answered simply. Proudly. He hardly waited a beat before he lunged playfully at Praimfaya's chest, moving onto play now that the important matters had been settled.

stag chimes in with a 'me too' to praimfaya's decisive affirmation that she likes his name and she gives a sage nod, and in the moment it takes her to blink he transitions into play seamlessly and is lunging for her chest. she is, embarrassingly caught off guard by the abrupt switch and though she tries to dodge his playful attack she cannot entirely side-step him and they collide with a protesting oof! from praimfaya, reminiscent of her lesson with blodreina minutes ago. instinctively, she makes to snap her teeth at his ear hoping to find purchase despite that she is smaller than him, her fighting skills running on rough instinct thus making them both clumsy and yet unrefined into the lethal weapon she would one day become.

It's true, Stag's a bit of a dick -- his sneak attack caught Praimfaya unaware, and he grinned roguishly as the two collided. His nip was not cruel or hard; it had scarcely any force to it, but he got what he deserved when Praimfaya's teeth sunk into the plush velvet of his puppy ears.

Stag was not immune to pain. Despite the rough play he elicited from his brothers and sister, he still had a way to go before he was truly stoic; at best a high grunt pressed from his lips as he pulled away instinctively, freeing his ear (and sounding the pain alarms) as he went for a foot instead.