well that just dills my pickle [MEETING]

Leaving the pretty girl he felt himself having googly eyes at had been difficult, especially hearing what she had gone through. That she chose to cling to him while she processed her traumas made the yearling boy feel special far beyond what he deserved. Gwyn was special, and part of him wished deeply that he could tell her that all of the time, but the boy couldn’t even speak. Let alone the logistics, they both knew he couldn’t stay in the castle with her forever. If he could have said goodbye he would of, but their parting was still sweetly sorrowful, and Ysmir returned home with Barenziah.

He was just about to curl up for a well deserved, if lonely, nap when he heard Tyrian’s call for the pack to gather together. He moaned internally at his bad timing and dragged himself out of bed. At least he had there wherewithal to bathe, so he would be presentable at the very least. He was again thankful at how absent the pack had been at the festival, there weren’t many who had witnessed his defeat.

So the boy held his head high, hiding the fatigue that lingered just behind his eyes as he slipped into the meeting. Dual toned eyes fell on his sister, but he paced behind the crowd for a long moment before deciding to sit a little ways off so he could watch everyone. Ysmir lowered himself to his elbows and the white gyrfalcon landed on his hips and made herself comfortable there. Ysmir tried not to wince as her talons grazed his skin for the hundred millionth time.