The weight of leadership

The meeting had gone well in Saracyn's opinion. All of Elysium had turned up (not counting the wishy-washy Kleins) to hear their new Matriarch speak and lay out her plans for the future of the pack, and with the exception of Scylla's bitterness, everyone had been in good spirits. The future of Elysium seemed bright under Avacyn's wise and benevolent rule. As Ava tended to the private matters and conversations that followed the meeting, Saracyn stood on standby at her side, the Commander keeping a watchful eye over the Matriarch as was his duty. Saracyn took great pride in his rank and responsibilities and he would never waver from them. Once everyone had cleared out though and they were left to their own devices, some of Sara's austere facade slipped away as he regarded his beloved mate with a warm smile and bright eyes. "Eh, it was all right. I've seen better," he remarked, his tone light and sarcastic to tell Avacyn that he was clearly teasing her. A wry smirk touched his lips as he moved closer to nuzzle her shoulder gently. "You did splendidly, Ava. Everyone is eager to see your reign begin."

The twins made their way back to their den side by side, Saracyn's bushy tail giving occasional flicks and teasing bumps against Avacyn's hip as they walked. His sister was quiet for most of their walk, something Sara took note of immediately. Her dark eyes were distant and unfocused, lost in some troubling thoughts. He didn't press her about what was on her mind until they walked back into the privacy of their den, however, and Ava settled into the furs in their lounge space. "Perhaps none of them feel ready for it yet. There's not anyone I could name off the top of my head I could trust in that role." Sara removed his sword from his back and propped it up against the den wall before moving to join his mate, laying down behind her so he could pull her into a spooning embrace, a giant white-tipped paw draping over her side while he wrapped his form around hers. Avacyn went through the list of the pack's fighters, naming a few that would be good and the cons to choosing them. It made Saracyn chuckle as he leaned his muzzle down to kiss along the back of Ava's neck, nibbling through her scruff as he covered his overthinking love in tender affections. "Fia seems happy where she's at. Uncle Deimos can fight and hunt, and he did well in the Valta raid, but he's impatient and impulsive. Plus he got his ass handed to him by Dad, so I'd sooner see Dad be our Master Fighter than him." But Ava had been staunchly of the mindset of rewarding their parents with higher ranks and keeping them close as advisors should she need their guidance. Either option was a good move for them, but there was no denying that Alastor had a proclivity towards violence.

Avacyn mentioned the Kleins next and Saracyn's expression hardened a little behind her as he thought of Scylla and Albion. Their loyalty had not been secured in Avacyn's ascent to power, and the future with them looked tumultuous at best, glib at worst. "I'd endorse Scylla before I'd see Albion in a rank of power," he remarked with a bit of an edge in his tone. Saracyn had never cared for the albino brute, least of all after the fallout that had occurred when Avacyn had broken off her engagement with him. At least he and Scylla had mostly been apathetic towards the devolving of their betrothal; Albion felt like a powder keg in a burning building—volatile and unpredictable with his emotions. At least with Scylla, they knew what to expect with her and what she was capable of. "Is that what has your mind so distracted, gorgeous?" he asked, bringing his muzzle up the side of her neck to nuzzle at her cheek from behind, wondering if this mess with the Kleins was what had her so upset.

"Saracyn Mendacium"