Lion Head Mesa basium

A yearling wore the crown of Queen. It was a stark reminder of his time in the Empire—children placed within roles that they were simply not ready for, if only lacking experience. 

She was well spoken and kind—upon the outside. Blackened lines tracing bright eyes and pale fur—her eyes soft upon the man Germanicus. He breathed slowly in—pressing the thought that the very man had sold others into slavery to the back of his mind for now. He could not explore what emotions were drawn from that thought. Not here. Not during this journey. 

Everything could be processed at a late date—for now, he remained on autopilot. 

Wren spoke—and then rambled—offering a stumbling introduction that vaguely drew a lift of his brows as he cast her a sideways glance, his own flank pressing closer to hers in return. 

Then—champagne eyes upon the girl who would allow them her time, and he moved to mirror Germanicus’ show of respect and use of title. Taltos, divine one. A proverbial middle finger given to his cousin who had run off—let a curse punish him for the use of this name. We are grateful for your hospitality and time.

Last for me here!