Rising Sun Valley Crosshair

"Ah," Capricorn mused as Shadow's head dipped down, never disturbing the stiff stand of his neck and with ears pointed the entire time, "nobility." To the de Septentrio male, who considered himself royalty as well, telling the noble apart from peasants was a simple thing. A noble wolf held themselves with a certain amount of power at all times: their shoulders remained set back a specific distance, their necks never bowed though their heads might dip cordially, and their ears were held in perfect peaks. Capricorn came to abandon his regal stance a good deal of the time, primarily because he didn't want to come off as stuffy, but now that he found himself in the company of a like wolf, he adopted the same rigid posture easily.

"How wonderful to meet another royal wolf," said Capricorn was a smile that was both polite and business-like. "Surely you have heard of my father, Macintosh de Septentrio of Montem Aquilonem?" Macintosh was nobility if ever there was nobility, perhaps not in the Roman sense of the word but in a sense. The entire Montem Aquilonem pack was one of wolves who held themselves to be nobles. Their blood was rich in some fashion. Normal wolves wouldn't possibly agree—they were mutants, don't you know—but Capricorn believed it, and felt an equally noble wolf would believe it as well.