I'm Just Gonna... -Yoink-

Saracyn hadn’t been expecting much in the way of a reaction from Scylla when he began complaining about his lot in life. Maybe a sound of acknowledgement at most, but really nothing would have been a closer estimate to what he expected. Instead, he felt tiny paws clinging to his fur as Scylla pulled herself into an upright position over him. All of a sudden, his blurry vision of the night sky was blocked by an equally blurry version of the tiny striped girl as she leaned over him right over his face. She had a firm, almost crazed look in her eyes while she stared at him, but Sara wasn’t intimidated. He’d nearly been killed by a bear; the tiny honey badger was nothing compared to an angry Kodiak. He stared up at Scylla from the flat of his back, glassy cobalt eyes doing their best to focus on her petite face, studying her unexpected seriousness.

Scylla began to speak to him with a slur to her consonants, explaining how she had been so small at birth that most wolves would have just let her perish. Then she went on to compliment him, and compliment him in excess. The diminutive girl called him big and strong and the best looking brute she’d ever see, teasingly mimicking the words he’d used on her earlier. It brought a rueful smirk to the yearling’s lips as a low chuckle rumbled in the depths of his chest. Scylla decreed that it didn’t matter why he was here and still alive, just the fact that he was here and alive gave him a purpose. She was quiet for a minute, seeming to struggle with words, but it gave Saracyn a chance to absorb what she had said. He frowned, struggling to find truth in her words, but not outright dismissing them as he normally would. There was a part of him that wanted so badly to believe her, to find validation in what she was telling him, but he was both too stubborn and too drunk to see things much differently right now. Perhaps if he remembered any of this conversation in the morning he would feel differently.

As he silently mulled over his damned feelings, Scylla found her words and explained how he had to push harder to overcome the odds stacked against him. That’s what her father had done and he had founded an entire pack from the ground up. Saracyn looked back into Scylla’s mismatched blue and slate gray eyes, having difficulty focusing on anything she was telling him when all his limited attention span could pay attention to were those contrasting jewels in her face. Her words pricked his ears to attention, despite the drowsy expression on his impassive face. She thought he was special? That was quaint and adorable... He still didn't rebuke her though; that would require too much effort. Instead, he just glanced down to where Scylla playfully punched his shoulder, barely feeling like more than a nudge to the massive adolescent boy. Then she demanded he take her to bed. Saracyn raised a curious brow, smirking with juvenile amusement and snickering. "Whatever you want, Your Majesty," he quipped back, rolling to his paws—and promptly face planting into the grass as his front legs gave out.

The Mendacium prince snorted and huffed, struggling to get back up on wobbly legs, a sight very unbecoming of the firstborn son to the alphas, but he was too wasted to give any fucks. Once he was upright and sure he wasn't about to topple over again, he rounded on Scylla, peering down at the small girl before reaching down to scoop her up by the midsection with one toned forearm and sling her across his back. Saracyn didn't know which of the many guest dens she had been assigned to, so he turned his head to peer back at the ferret wolf on his back. "Which den are you staying in?"

"Saracyn" & "Scylla"