Northstar Vale [join] he's the guaranteed eternal sanctuary man

A puff of air parted his lips in a faint sound of relief when Tenzin allayed his concerns, both with a comment on their appearances (I'm prettier, his mind protested despite itself) and with direct confirmation. Not only had Anemone come upon these gentle keepers of the Vale, but she had cast her lot with them... A curious development, indeed. Though it felt in some ways greedy to ask further—he was too tired to mind his manners too much with these strangers holding sway over him, and too roguish to abide lawfulness besides—he was pressed to further his query: "and my brother, Hawthorne?" For surely, he reasoned to himself, if Anemone had settled into life with these gentle monks (with a sidelong glance to Xi'nuata he wondered if she, too, was a monk, or if there was more to this strange faction than Tenzin's ways) she must have found some trace of their brother. Narcissus would never have expected her to quit her search.

When he was met with the inevitable "no", which his writer knows is coming, his ears wilt back against his crown uncertainly. Surely something had appealed to Anemone to make her halt here... Surely some hint or clue to their brother's whereabouts? Belatedly, the rogue brought up his identity in a haunting whisper of, "I am one of three," but the provocation for this declaration was unknown even to himself. Blinking back his concern for their brother, and weighing in his mind Tenzin's offer, Narcissus indulged them with some backstory, which Anemone may or may not have provided: "My sister is searching for my brother, and I for her. We are three and we are one." He paused for but a moment before saying, "I require them. My head and my heart," was his clarification.

"For her to remain, she must have seen something here. So no, I do not suppose I am here to visit," he concluded, revealing to both the Vale wolves and himself his desire to remain where his siblings were. He could not turn his back on one copy in the idle hope he might find the other; uncertain odds were not something Narcissus was fond of. He liked knowing outcomes, being wily and cunning and merry as he was, rather than taking his chances. Should Hawthorne be out there, he would show himself eventually... And for the time being, Narcissus would remain with the one littermate he had found here. "Tell me more," he said, his suddenly a thirsting countenance, "of your monks and your clerics and your ways. What makes you offer aid to an outsider so readily without demanding his fealty, when so many others would view him as a threat or a vagrant?"

He did not ignore the temptation to allow them to soothe him; in everything from the gentle slump of his shoulders to the imperfect cling of his travel-worn coat to the teetering of his legs and the faltering of his confident smile, he begged to be taken in and treated and remedied... But before that he placed in importance their way of life, that he may capitalize on their offer only in the event he could repay it, because Narcissus was roguish in only the good-natured ways, and had been raised nobly, lacking any miscreant desire to take from others what was not his to take (although admittedly, some little dark part of him might take from someone too greedy to give to someone who had lost all... But this part of him did not apply now).