Blackfeather Woods darkest days

With amusement painted on his features, Cicero watched his brother go through different stages: first surprise, maybe even indignation, at the offered subject. Then followed acceptance and realisation, and then he threw himself at the conversation, thinking it nothing more than a mask for their operation. Cicero intended for him to think such; it was the perfect mask for having such a conversation with Damien, whilst he thought it no more than idle chatter to distract possible onlookers.

Damien seemed to take his time to think, which was good. He looked like he had perhaps not thought of the subject of love and lust that thoroughly. In the end, he did not really answer, merely phrased a question, then answered his own question. Cicero had not expected Damien to have yet experienced love, for Cicero had never seen him look specially at anyone, but he had hoped that his brother would elaborate on the subject of lust. He wondered if Damien's interests lay in the same area as Cicero's, or if they were very different.

"Amongst others," Cicero said when Damien asked if he meant if he had been in love with another. "And if Damien ever thought of sex." He may as well call it as it were, Cicero thought. Maybe his brother would then understand what he was trying to ask.

In response to Damien's question, Cicero tilted his head thoughtfully while he continued to trot towards the pack's borders, to the place his poisonous herbs and mushrooms were stashed. "Hm." He was not so sure, for feelings were confusing things. "Not really in love, Cicero thinks." Perhaps it was just lust, perhaps solely his growing body that desired some closeness, but perhaps it was love. Cicero had yet to find out. "Cicero is not sure yet." He would unlikely find out without actually getting close to the one he liked and finding out if it were lust or love that he felt. Well, maybe he would never find out; time would tell.