Tragedy of Perfection

With spar training pairs given, Regulus was feeling just a bit bouncy. Hehehe, he'd be sparring Faite. That should be fun. His youngest litter mate was a spitfire, he knew, and she'd be sure to make it interesting. He was laying his mark thickly on a large stone on the border when the excited howl rippled to his ears. The vibrant red male turned to listen, leg still cocked, before he kicked off at a run, necklace jingling softly in his fur.

Whoa. This guy was the same height as he and his brother. Same age as Tornach, too, by the scent. Fathomless sapphires regarded the younger male carefully as Regulus slowed, tail raised just above his hips; a sign that he was of high rank, but not the alpha. He'd even beaten his mother there. No doubt she'd be along soon enough, but in the meantime...

Regulus coasted to a stop, tail wagging stiffly in regal greeting as he spoke to the male, taking in his looks and size... Something in the build, maybe the face, niggled at his mind. The cool heterochromia this guy had going on wasn't something he'd encountered personally, so he had no idea that his own aunt had something similar. No matter. To business. "Good day. I'm Regulus Anatolii Adravendi, Future of Celestial. How can I help you?" Formal, friendly, his baritone, accented voice authoritative. Just as he should always greet a wolf at the borders. His eyes continued to rove over the other's face, on a level with his that didn't often occur. This guy was a bruiser of a wolf, no denying that.