Blackfeather Woods They will make you an exhibit

B) all welcome!

Argent - for Étoille is strictly maintaining the habit of refering to himself as Argent, even in thought - has not been in the forest long enough to have a grasp of much. He is not interested in making himself a target by snooping but his natural curiosity does lead him. The forest is dense and dangerous and in a way the titan can understand the appeal. He wonders if they will call on him to prove himself (as any loyal newcomer should) - and if so what his task will be.

More subtly he keeps his senses peeled for the one named Cicero. As far as he is concerned he has no real conflict with any of Blackfeather beyond the one who'd taken Wildfire captive. He does not know of Moonspear and the Caldera's conflicts with Vaati, the one who he'd met already. He does not particularly care. (It is the closest thing to a cruel streak Argent has - he is not moved by the greater good. He looks after his own as instructed. He is simple in that way.)

His cautious footfalls lead him deeper into the heart of the forest, where the ground turns red-leafed despite the season, brown-edged but still beautiful. Like a wound, he thinks, or a bleeding heart. How appropriate. Intrigued, he steps into the light and lifts his head, inhaling the acrid smell and wondering what comes next.

The border incident had both heightened Ramsay's interest in the outer lands and tempered it. For several days after, he stuck close to the center of the territory, frequenting the glen more than he had since first abandoning it, partly for fear of another menace finding him out there and partly to recharge. Incidentally, this was what brought him face-to-face with Blackfeather Woods' infiltrator.

Of course, nobody knew Étoille's ironic purpose in the assassins' woods, least of all a two month old squirt like Ramsay. He found himself on a trail of an unidentifiable nature—by now he was familiar with the smell of every wolf who called the woods home but for the newcomers—and, finding that following it was an inborn inclination, he hurried along it with a scamper of overlarge paws, strides short and rapid, as was usual for him.

The slow-moving wolf at the end of the trail didn't seem so out of place. Every member of the woods was black, white, or some shade in between. There wasn't a single member among their ranks who sported a coloured coat, a fact which kept the crimson stranger from the outlands keenly imprinted in Ramsay's mind. Étoille was just like the other members of the pack, his face mask seeming black in the gloom of the forest, and that put Ramsay at ease enough to noisily approach. Euron would have stolen up on silent cats' paws, but Ramsay wasn't so quiet even when he tried his best, and he certainly wasn't trying now.

Dropping his battish ears back so the tips dangled over his arched shoulders, Ramsay wiggled his tail poof and said, "hi!"

He had caught scent of children but had not expected to actually come across one unsupervised. Argent does not have much experience with... youth but he assumes it is not... surely it is not normal to allow them to go tumbling all over without a mother nearby? Yet he does not smell another. The titan turns towards the tiny form, opening his mouth only to shut it when he takes in the details of the creatures malformed body.

If Argent reacts to the child's deformity it does not show in his face. After a moment, he says, "hello," and takes a seat. Part of him wonders if it is out of cruelty or sympathy that the wolves of Blackfeather have not culled this child, but aside from his... spine, he appears to be functioning normally. Or, at least, appears cheerful about his situation. Tactfully he does not let his gaze linger too long on the slope of his shoulder, glancing instead past him. "Is your mother near?"

All too quickly, Ramsay's carefree smile faded into a more fixed expression, a sullen child's petulant frown upon realizing they were going to the doctor for a flu shot. His mother. She was an enigma to Ramsay, and truthfully, he didn't try to understand. He knew that Euron did in some way, and maybe Maegi mourned for their mother's presence too. In the deepest parts of him, Ramsay longed for the comforting touch and soothing voice of a mother in his life, but Potema's abandonment had come so early that he hardly had time to form a connection. The only thing he associated with her was cold dismissal and disgust; he mirrored that hate back at her, but hadn't seen her since to let her know it.

"No," he answered shortly, and took a long moment to glance around at the dark trunks of the trees, in the manner one might inspect their fingernails whilst deciding what to say or do next. Finally he scooped his ears back in Étoille's direction, followed by his gaze, and asked in his characteristically curious cadence, "who are you?" After all, Étoille was not a Melonii and not a familiar wolf either. Since his encounters with Indra and Beruthiel, Ramsay had come to know that there were other wolves in the world, and not all of them well-meaning. Étoille was in their forest and was probably a friend, but his curiosity mounted anyway.

Again, Argent does not know much about children. The little fella's reaction is... strange. Perhaps he is out and about without permission and doesn't want to get in trouble? Or perhaps he has no mother at all. There is no way for the titan to tell, and a blanket of awkwardness descends upon the scene. (Being undercover does not make him any more smooth.)

Thankfully the child moves on quickly past it and he lets it go. "Argent," he tells him, the slightly stiff set of his voice not fading - he talks to the deformed child no different than he'd talk to an adult. "I am new here," he explains, "what is your name?"

What was new? Ramsay's ears and nose simultaneously twitched in response to the idea that someone could be new to the woods. He couldn't remember ever not being part of the pack, and wrongly assumed it was like that for everyone else: you either were or you weren't. "How?" he wondered; Argent was much too large to have been recently brought into the pack in the same manner Ramsay was, but it was unclear just what he was asking about.

It seemed like a normal routine for names to go around, so Ramsay was ready for the question when Argent lobbed it at him. "Ramsay," he answered almost as quickly as the final syllable fell from his older companion's lips. "Melonii," he added absently, having never utilized it before but for once thinking it was a pertinent thing to mention, like being a Melonii differentiated him from someone new like Argent. In a way, it did.

If the child's question confuses him, it doesn't show on his face. Ramsay Melonii is the name he's given, though "Melonii" holds no special significance to him (if only he knew who the child's father was). The titan lowers himself slightly, so as to better speak to him, and says, "I met Vaati, and he allowed me to join you." Argent doesn't know if Ramsay knows Vaati. But he assumes so - they do not seem keen on outsiders, so he suspects Ramsay was born in the forest. He could be wrong, of course - but then he has a hard time imagining Blackfeather taking in a disabled child if he were an outsider. Though speaking to him, it's easy to forget his condition, or at least to overlook it. Actually, in a way, the boy reminds him a little of Furi when they'd first found her, all dark-furred and scrawny, half-feral. It gives him a slight pang of something close to homesickness, a feeling he's never experienced and thus can't identify. He chalks it up to indigestion.

A new wolf was talking to one of his sons, Cicero deduced from the scents before he stumbled upon the two in physical form. Ragged ears swiveled forward in silent question as he approached the pair of them, though catching no words spoken. Vaati's scent was fresh upon this wolf, and though Cicero did not trust Vaati's judgement as he had Damien's or Potema's or Burke's, he was fine with his leadership. Someone had to do it, and Cicero surely was not willing to do it, regardless of whether he was fit. Neither was Potema, or anyone. Vaati was as good as any at this moment, though Cicero didn't know the boy that well.

"Greetings," Cicero shared as he looked from Ramsay to the new wolf. "Cicero." He dipped head briefly, assuming to receive introductions back. His body remained neutral, as he did not have any need or desire for hierarchy.

Vaati. The boy's eyes lit with brief recognition, then faded back to their usual dismissive blankness. Vaati brought food sometimes, but otherwise, Ramsay had next to no relationship with his older brother. The man seemed to spend more time outside the pack borders than in them, and even less of that time was spent with his younger brothers, who were often in one another's company instead. Vaati was the pack leader, but that meant almost nothing to Ramsay, who had been raised in such a way as to be dismissive of authority, although he now knew it gave one the power to bring more into the fold. Oh well. He didn't really recognize any leaders, save one wolf.

Speaking of, Cicero arrived on the scene with a quiet greeting. The boy's short tail wagged briefly and he met his father-uncle with an affectionate butt of head against chest if permitted, and then he retreated some short distance to listen. Cicero was the only adult in Ramsay's life who could make him listen, and this was only because of Cicero's somewhat reliable presence. He didn't have anything else to ask of Argent, but remained curious enough about the newcomer to linger. He couldn't think of anyone else who had come from outside to join their pack—unbeknownst to him, there were actually several—and he wanted to know more about this other place they came from, if there was even more to know.

Ramsay seems to accept his answer without fuss, which he appreciates, but he does not get a chance to gently pry into what information the child may divulge because another arrives on the scene. The boy seems to know the man (a relative, maybe?) but any assumptions Argent could make are quickly overturned by one simple word.

Cicero.

There is a flicker of something in his near-black eyes, quick and easily missable, hard to identify. "Argent," the titan returns smoothly, dipping his head in return. Were he a more expressive creature, he might have to work to hide the emotions flitting through his mind (disgust, triumph) -- but as it stands, he's never been prone to emoting, and so his expression remains as vague as it always is. His gaze shifts back to the child, lingering near the man in question, and he asks, "is he yours?" with a guileless sort of curiousity. After all, it isn't ever day you meet a deformed child with no mother, who may be the son of your enemy.

Argent, he introduced himself as. The headbutt Ramsay gave was permitted and was returned with a nuzzle to the forehead as the boy was momentarily near enough to. The question posed by Argent clearly struck a chord with Cicero. He paused momentarily but saw no reason to lie about it.

Looking briefly at Ramsay and then turning to Argent Cicero nodded. ”Yes.” He was not sure if Ramsay would catch any of it, for he was young and easily distracted, but Cicero would not lie to him either should he ask about it again later.

Feel free to skip Ramsay until it makes sense for him to be involved again!

If Argent had directed the question at Ramsay instead of Cicero, then the answer would have been the same. Cicero was the closest thing to a father figure that the pups had ever had, and although Ramsay didn't know him as his father officially, he viewed the man like one. Potema was their mother but was the worst parent a kid could ever ask for, and that told Ramsay that one's born family wasn't always their proper family. In this case, he considered Cicero proper family; that was why he would obey any command given him by the patchwork wolf when he would otherwise ignore authority.

As the adults talked, Ramsay examined a twisted tree root nearby. His hackles rose in sharp lines along his spine as he stared at it, intent with a feline focus (in these moments, he resembled his father and his brother, when otherwise he took more after his grandfather—abrupt and forward), and then he threw himself awkwardly down atop it, fitted its gnarled end into his jaws, and began to chew at it between guttural grumbles.

The paradigm shifts. Small, but it does. Then again what had he expected? Cicero is a real creature, not a storybook villain. Of course he has a life outside of the pain he's inflicted on Wildfire and whoever else. That this life includes fatherhood, and specifically, fatherhood of a... disabled child, doesn't change anything.

He hmms, thoughtful, watching the boy chew a tree root for a moment before looking back to Cicero. There is a question he wants to ask, but there is no tactful way to do it.  "He is unique," Argent settles on. He does not dwell on it. "I am new to your ranks," he says instead, "as you surely guessed." The titan falls silent, his unsaid curiosities hanging in the air between them. He is not a natural conversationalist after all.

'He is unique'. A friendly way to see what everyone thought when they first saw Ramsay. Cicero grimaced and said, "Unique indeed." Once Cicero had bothered himself with who was new to the pack and such, when he was one of Damien's loyal followers in leadership, but now he did not care quite as much. He did not fully trust Vaati but neither did he think the boy was doing a poor job; he was just that, a boy, in Cicero's view. Maybe had there not been so many other things swirling around Cicero he might have tried aiding Vaati in leadership, but as is the uncle did not have many spoons to offer, for he was running on his last threads as was. He longed for a quieter life and, without Damien here, the thought of leaving swirled through his mind more and more often.

Cicero licked his lips and nodded as Argent said they were not to the ranks. "Vaati brought you in?" he guessed, then continued, assuming it to be a 'yes', "How did you lose your previous home?" He asked because for Cicero, having a home is a thing he'd always had and if he were ever to lose Blackfeather Woods, there'd be a story to tell for whatever home he'd end up at.

He drowned out the adult conversation for a time, content to break wooden splinters into his jaws and savour their earthy flavour, but when Cicero asked Argent about his old home, the dwarf perked up. His wide ears pressed up and he turned his gaze back to the adults, still gnawing from the side of his mouth but intent on listening. Ramsay was curious about the outside world ever since meeting with Indra. Argent wasn't nearly as striking in appearance as she was, with the shadows obscuring the colour in his mask, but he was from elsewhere. Ramsay liked stories about elsewhere, so he settled in to listen with a thin thread of drool hanging from his lips.

Argent does not respond to Cicero's grimace beyond a fleeting curl at the corner of his lips. More pressing is his question, for it throws him. Home is ... not quite a foreign concept to him these days, but still something new. For a moment he must collect himself, both Étoille and Argent, and he hopes the small frown he bares passes for wistfulness. "I have never had much of one," the titan admits. "My mother was a wanderer and I never knew my father. My littermates and I ended up dispersing without much fanfare." This much was true, if uninteresting; unfortunately, he has never had a very interesting life, and he does not see the need to start making one up now.

Cicero noted Ramsay's interest in the answer to this question and he, too, listened with interest. A pause followed before Argent disclosed that he had never had much of a home. A wanderer for a mother; such seemed a strange life to Cicero. He merely nodded at the answer. Then Cicero was silent, not having any further questions.

Cicero does not speak again after his answer. Argent wonders if he has failed some sort of test, or if Cicero is merely reticent by nature. Either way, he suspects he will not be gaining anything else from the interaction and so he dips his head. "Nice meeting you," the titan says, "Cicero. And Ramsay," he adds, glancing back at the child. And with that, he takes his leave for now.

No further interaction followed; none but a farewell. Cicero nodded at Argent and said, "Same to you, Argent." Cicero watched as he left, then nosed Ramsay's shoulder to gain his attention. "Come. Let us find your brother and sister." He then made to move away, not watching to see if Ramsay were to actually follow as he made his way into the depths of the forest to the glen.

An uninteresting story to the two adults, but an interesting one to Ramsay, who didn't even have a present mother to speak of. He hadn't seen Potema since he was weaned, and he didn't think he ever would see her again. Better for both of them—moreso her the older he got—if that was true. He wondered what it would be like to have a wanderer for a mother, and concluded it probably wouldn't be so different from his own largely loveless upbringing.

"The glen!" he announced as he hopped awkwardly to his paws to follow Cicero, shouting out a delayed, "bye Argent!" to the newcomer before falling in behind Cicero in a rare show of obedience.