Of Archangels And Primos

He wasn’t kept waiting too long; soon enough Bass’ pale form came into view, the brown patch on his nose and the lines under his golden eyes marking him for who he was, even if that Leader’s grace of experience and authority hadn’t underlain each step. Regulus sat straighter, though he never lost that easy going posture, or the warm smile that answered Bass’s gentle teasing. “I have grown quite a bit, I suppose.” The fathomless sapphire eyes twinkled cheerily, before he quickly assured Bass of his mother’s wellbeing. If inadvertently.

“Well, I know you and my mother had words, but since I’ve stepped into her place, I wanted to speak with you myself, to see where Abaven and Celestial stand. You said once that if we helped during the Hellstrom siege, Abaven would be allied with the Pack my mother raised. I’d like to pursue that friendship. Now that we have pups in the pack – three, two girls, one boy – we could use all the friends we can get... I hope I’m not being too forward…”

He paused, running his mind through his thoughts, then added thoughtfully, “Also, I think Varda needs to see her family, and know that they aren’t all gone. One of her close friends – and he was also one of our Legionaries – went missing not long ago; she’s taking it hard. Have you seen a white wolf with yellow eyes and dark markings around his eyes? His name’s Miksa.” His eyes searched Bass’ face for any signs of recognition.