idle paws are the devils tools

Albion hadn’t felt right since coming back from Elysium. Not having his sister at his side, or even in the same pack, made everything wrong. Nothing went right anymore. He was always stubbing his toe, dropping things, he felt like his nose was getting rubbed in every small thing that could go awry. Nothing was easy when everything should have been easy for the prince. Albion felt cursed without Scylla.

Cerb really tried to keep him going in the right direction. He knew his brother, beyond their mom, missed Scylla just as much as he did. The three musketeers had been separated, and Albion felt it keenly. He blamed all of it on their father. Contempt built in the boy, believing all of his woes and problems were born from his sire the moment he sent Scylla away.

The pale young man kicked some rocks into the thundering falls and watched them fall into the depths. He was doing a half hearted patrol. Doing anything at full capacity was a chore he hadn’t felt like taking on. A dark cloud settled over his head and Albion had no desire to try and chase it away. He was sulking, and he wanted everyone to know about it.

"Albion Baskara Klien"