Dragoncrest Cliffs red or black, yellow, red, black, white, dirty

Thibault was a shadow- but a calm, amenable one. Of all of his siblings, he found his brother was the most tolerable. He was willing to be led, guided, and he seemed to understand that Tousaint did not want to wrestle or get dirty. The bit of space he afforded for his prim brother was much appreciated, and was rewarded with the gentlest expression the sour boy was able to muster.

And out of all of his siblings, he was most willing to share time with Valravn with Thibault. Miette would be too demanding; Chantale for sure would find some way to disrupt the peace as well. 

Whatever peace they had was short-lived- and the one who disrupted it was none other than Val himself- who scooped the boys up, one under each rangy arm, and gave them each a squeeze. Tousaint murmured a complaint, and squirmed- but smiled nevertheless. 

Once he was released, he shook his coat out, and then turned his neck to smoothe the fur of his shoulders where it had been ruffled. Val sped off- and once he had sorted out his suit, Tousaint would follow- at a bouncy, collected prance. 

He could never be a rotten egg; not if he arrived looking as good as he did, even if he came in last place.