Ira's morning had been exceedingly uneventful and routine. As transpired every morning (rather any meal time) he would nibble reluctantly (only to return later to devour it) at the meat Jinx offered him, careful to never show enthusiasm or, as it was, gratitude. In hindsight, Ira was aware that Jinx did not have to feed him, she could starve him just as easily as she could abandon him to die if she ever found his insolence and lack of gratitude tiresome; he understood the ramifications, that the odds were not in his favor and that he should have been thanking her how a pauper would thank a queen who displayed such non mandatory generosity. To be fair, this behavior had begun with Tark, and though she made no moves to kill him, or poison him there was always the chance that it could happen. Ira was beginning to doubt that Jinx would do that, however. His time with her was brief (though longer than his time with Tark), and while he did not doubt that she was valuable to do so, Ira relied upon the instinct feeling that she wouldn't. In his own way, hinting on the hairs breadth measurement away of outright possessiveness Ira liked Jinx. In the agreement of their ...relationship he was comfortable with her. Unlike it was with Tark who had tried to force feelings out of Ira. To love is to destroy, to be loved is to e destroyed apparently was not a concept the elder had been able to grasp. Jinx, however, seemed to understand and held a concept of a similar vein.
After Ira's little adventure to Duck Lake and the resulting horror the feathered fiends' mere existence left he had no intention of venturing out of Swiftcurrent Creek for a while. Once, he ha conspired the designs of running away but as those old schemes were revisited and accordingly reevaluated Ira found that he did not want to run away from Jinx. He desired her praise and her approval too much, though he was still a child. Children crave reverence; or so this was what he worked to convince himself of. After returning to the den he shared with his Mambo to consume his breakfast and tuck away a multicolored, smooth pebble he found safely into his corner, he had meant to venture out with a contented and full stomach with no clear destination in mind. He had not meant to venture to Jinx's current position within the borders, yet he found himself confronted with her imagine in the distance nevertheless. Without cognitive recognition he had been following her scent trail though he knew not why -- not that he felt a dissapoint meant or anything of the sort.
She was speaking, but with no one visible in sight of her Ira was left to assume that she was speaking to her gods, though, he was left with an uncertianty. "My mambo," The Princeling greeted her, using his favorite (tied with 'mine') word before her title. Fierce milky blue eyes peered up at her as he stepped from the snow covered bushes he was attempting to hide within as he observed her. For a few seconds he wondered whether he wanted to ask her about the strange tongue she spoken in, or for who she was praying for. Unable to decide he settled for neither, presently.