Hushed Willows east of the sun

Ah, well, this was a pickle. Some kind of commitment - however small - to becoming knowable to someone else. It was unfamiliar territory for the St. Clair - uncomfortable territory. He wasn't sure how to traverse it. And he should've said no, that he needed to leave, that he had business elsewhere, that...

"Yeah, I could stay around here." 

Icy eyes widened a bit at his own voice, and he fought to keep his ears from pressing backward. His expression was mostly schooled into a neutral one - years of practice - but he was internally surprised. 

Alejandro cleared his throat and picked at the rabbit. "What about you? You staying around here?" he asked, trying to sound more casual than he felt.

Valiant thought, for a moment, that he had pushed a little too far. Already, he had begun to berate himself — What would someone like him want to do with someone like you? But then Alejandro seemed to answer in the affirmative, and Valiant was relieved to drop such insecurities.

"I don't really stay anywhere," he replied, which was a really cool way of saying he'd been living with his aunts for most of his life, but now he wasn't. "I've kind of been looking for someone, but — but it doesn't matter that much. Mostly I came out this way to get some fresh air, away from the rest of the family."

He fell on his rabbit once more, finally tearing into the stomach so that he could root around for the tiny liver and eat that first. "Do you have a lot of family?" he asked, his snout still rudely buried in his meal.

The boy was surprised that he was staying, too, it seemed. Probably not as surprised as Alejandro himself, though. Ears angled toward him as he spoke, with his mouth full of rabbit, which was kind of funny and gross at the same time. 

So he was getting away from family too. They had that in common. 

"I do have a lot of family," he responded with a small smile, watching the boy. "I'm looking for a few of them, here. Nephews, mostly, or my brother if I ever run into him."

Valiant squirmed in minor discomfort when Alejandro's family was mentioned. More and more he wondered —

He could worry about that later.

"What're their names? Maybe I've met them," he suggested, wanting to be helpful, if possible. Now that he thought of it, Alejandro reminded him quite a bit of Sundance; they had the same mask and coloration, and there'd been something kind of delicate and — pretty about Sundance as well. But he couldn't remember who his parents had been. Lily and Khali? Olive? Ariel?

With a start, Valiant remembered that Ariel, too, had very much been a man. Except he'd been someone's mom. That was very clear in his memories.

"Or any pack names might help, too," he added, a little more thoughtfully, deciding not to mention any of that baggage until he had more to go off of.

"Mathieu and Yves, for the most part. They're my nephews." Oblivous to the boy's discomfort, Alejandro would plow on - a certain pride about his family swelling in his chest. "On a lesser note, my brother's name is Joaquin."

Though he had no pack name to give, he could share their family name. "No pack that I'm aware of, but we should all share the surname St. Clair." Still proud, of course, but less proud than he was when he was speaking of the individuals.

It was pretty clear that Ale had a soft spot. 

"You got any family around here?"

Valiant's ears cupped forward in interest and bemusement as Alejandro went on to list a host of relatives — each one of them with a sound-name that Valiant had no hope of remembering. He was disappointed and relieved that none of them rang a bell, and neither did their surname. "Sorry," he said with a shake of his head, "I don't think I've met any of them."

Conversation turning to his family made him much more obviously uncomfortable, but he was willing enough to share: "I have an aunt at Whitebark Stream. My sister was there as well, the last I heard. But they don't know I'm in the area." ...and I'd like to keep it that way, he thought but did not say.

He was done with his rabbit and made quick work of cleaning off his muzzle so that it was a pale salmon color instead of bright red.

"I can help you search, if you want," he suggested, giving a hopeful wag of his tail. "I'm not really doing anything important."

Alexandre was a little disappointed too, but it didn't show on his face. Instead, he offered the boy a reassuring smile - or what he hoped was one, anyway. "It's fine, but just in case you do happen to see them, you know that they're all spotty like me." He smiled then and turned back to finish up his rabbit. 

"I've never heard of Whitebark Stream, but I'll make sure not to tell them you're around if I do run into them." He didn't particularly seem like he wanted to be around them, if he knew where they were and hadn't shared his location with them yet.

Surprised icy eyes flickered up to the boy and he tipped his head to the side. "You'll help me search?" he questioned, arching a brow. "That's awfully kind of you." Suspicious, maybe, but this kid was so earnest that Alejandro couldn't help but trust him. 

After taking the last bite of his rabbit and cleaning his own muzzle, Alejandro stood. "So, are you going to ever tell me your real name or should I just call you Day forever?" he finally asked, a smirk on his maw.

"I have two aunts who are spotty like you," he said when Alejandro talked about how his relatives would be recognized. "But I'm sure you aren't related. I know my family tree three generations back." He didn't, on Akuti's side, but he was still fairly certain they weren't related. The Spiritwalker had been the fairy wife, after all, and not his grandfather's middle wife.

His reassurance received a tacit nod in return; in truth, he felt a bit guilty about extracting this sort of promise from the other man, as he was sure the right thing to do would be to visit Whitebark Stream and pay his respects to his venerable aunt. If an emissary was was sent from Round Valley, they would worry that he hadn't checked in.

Alejandro's surprise distracted him, disarmming him, for the moment, of his previous suspicions. "I like to keep busy," he excused, but it was clear from his amused expression that this was said more for his new friend's benefit than anything else. And then, because he couldn't imagine Alejandro having any more power over him than he currently had, he was happy enough to reply: "Valiant."

The word was appended with a wide yawn, and Valiant remembered that he'd been travelling for several days without end. "I'm about ready for a nap," he admitted, feeling much more settled in the man's company than he had at first.

Unrelated spotty wolves. That was cool - at least it wasn't his family on their own. It might be interesting to meet other spotted wolves, to know that there actually were others. Maybe it had been one of those that the man he'd killed had spoken of. 

Finally, the boy said his real name. "Valiant," he echoed with a small smile. "Old French was vailant. Be strong is what it means. That's a good name." A smirk crossed his maw, then. "Much better than... what was it... Swan?" A tease, of course, but he thought it was a well-deserved one. 

Valiant spoke again and Alejandro nodded his head. The younger wanted a nap, and for some reason, the older had decided to stick around. "I won't be going far or anything," he assured, feeling a bit sheepish. "If you want to meet up again, just... call." And with that, he'd turn and leave, for some strange reason looking forward to seeing the boy again.

Ale's exit

"Oh — you too," said Valiant, a little alarmed by his friend's sudden departure. He wanted to call him back, but instead he just watched him leave, something in his chest seeming to tighten and release all at once.

Although he felt a bit guilty for the sentiment, Valiant was glad when Alejandro left. It allowed him to relax a little, and to take a deep breath of air that didn't smell so intriguing. He left the remnants of their meal for the birds and headed back toward the rose grove to lie down for a while.

Imagine Valiant meaning the same thing in French as it is in the common tongue, he thought, a little ruefully. And then he wondered what sort of creatures made up French in the first place, and this led to some quiet rumination on the origin of speech in the first place.

Eventually, he shut his eyes and dreamed sweet, soft dreams. He hoped he would see the male again soon.