Lion's Teeth

Disgruntled and disheveled, Orthos had arrived in south after his less-than-pleasant experience on the western side of the continent
Not that his experience on the east side had been any more stellar upon his entrance to this Ley-forsaken continent his siblings had all seemingly been swallowed up in. He had been here for some time now and not only hadn't found any of his siblings as he had claimed to be here for, but apparently this damnable place didnt have a single damned tavern, gambling parlor, or similar low-class dives, let alone a halfway decent symposium. It was positively barbaric. He had, at least, managed to wash the ash from his stunningly-marked coat from that ill-fated venture, but he couldn't help but imagine he still stank of smoke, and his already slender form edged towards gaunt, his poor nails in a dreadful state from all the running he had been forced to do, and despite obsessive attention to it his once-glossy fur seemed to him to be acquiring a patina of dust and ivory tinge to the whites. It was absolutely disgraceful. He simply could not manage any longer without hiring the services of some lower class type who knew how to serve nobility properly.

It was, therefore, not at all surprising that in the midst of all this, Orthos actually caught the sound of his brother's call challenging for a pack.

Oh for Ley's sake. Now he was going to be expected to perform his familial duty and support whatever hare-brained scheme Pegasus had come up with. Not that perfect Pegasus would ever force him to do anything, of course. He would just give Orthos that disappointed look and of course then if Orthos didn't help he would be forced to feel guilty until he gave in.

So he preemptively gave in to the guilt and flounced into the gathering as the fight between his ever so perfect brother and some dark coated plebeian was already in full swing, and threw himself down beside Chrys with a dramatic huff. "Not a word," he groused, fussing with settling his rumpled fur. Chrys, somehow, seemed to be weathering the damnable wilds far better than Orthos himself had thus far. He even had come prepared with herbs, and Orthos eyed it thoughtfully. "I dont suppose you have anything in there to make this more bearable?" he asked hopefully. "I haven't even sniffed a decent wine in months."

He narrowed his eyes uneasily as the fight went on. "I say, they are an awfully barbaric sort of trash here aren't they? Not even an ounce of decency. Just look at the way that brute fights."

And then surprisingly, Pegasus gave up, and Orthos raised his brows, lazy facade forgotten in the moment. That was... not what he had expected from the pride of the Beaufort family.. himself, certainly. He had no interest in seeing his own blood at any point in the future. But Pegasus?

And then, even more surprising, in a move that raised his brows still further, the yellow-eyed brute who had won gave Pegasus his pack anyway. Of course Pegasus had the luck to pick an alpha in the middle of a personal crisis who would just give up his pack to him. Pegasus was the sort who could fall into a pile of buffalo shit and come out covered in gold. "Well," he drawled slowly, "what a plot twist."

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