Neverwinter Forest on a black throne reigns upright

Because Cypress graciously allowed Rian to share the burdens that had been dragging him down into the depths of his crushing depression, he decided to open his own ears and listen to what his younger cousin had brewing in his own clouded mind. Though his eerie yellow eyes passed from Rian's own murky jade, he did not retreat emotionally and instead laid a pathway for the O'Malley son to follow. And he did, down the winding staircase, to the troubles that clawed at the weathered cage containing them.

He stood patiently by and didn't even fidget when his swarthy companion continued on, following the thread of thought to the conclusion he shared now. A single ear twitched forward, and the other joined it after a few beats, when Ondine was mentioned. It was the same conclusion that Rian drew, though for slightly different reasons—Rian, wholeheartedly, believed that it was Cypress who deserved the Neverwinter crown and that Kjalarr and Ondine were merely safeguarding it until he was ready. But in their discussion the she-wolf had made it clear that she had no intention of relinquishing to the rightful heir, despite her promises to do well by the wolves who still remained.

"I understand." He said softly, remembering that the shadow had already made good on that promise when he hadn't showed himself during their failed hunt. Rian also remembered his anger that day, and the words he said now shamed him. He wilted and looked away when Cypress motioned to the earth, grateful for the distraction. A brow lifted as he observed the game, and he waved his tail in a short arc when Cypress extended the floor to him. "Sure." He murmured as he crept forward on uncertain feet. Rian stared down at the patch for a long time before rearing back and slamming his massive paws into the ice—it shattered beneath his pads with loud crack and splintered into tiny fragments. 

A wild, slightly manic, grin swept across his lips and he laughed. "Alright, that's pretty cool."