Whose bed have your boots been under?

N/A · 03-11-2013, 01:38 PM

Valhalla was the large pack his father had talked about, the one that once harbored over seventy wolves. That was in the Old Alacritis, his birthplace. Here, their numbers were smaller, but Gerhardt said it made them even more formidable. Maverick had long believed that Valhalla was some sort of foreign empire, a throne that could not be shaken. The boy tried to imagine what it might be to live in such a place. No doubt the territory was massive, stretched for miles upon miles upon miles. No doubt every inch was covered with a wolf that sought to defend their home with fervor. Getting ahead of yourself there, Mav.. He blinked twice and then swiveled twin ears to note her response, which at first gave him not a shred of information. Perhaps Valhallans weren't supposed to talk about their home? He knew packs could be quite secretive about their rituals. Gods knew his birth pack had been that type. The boy could scarcely remember how things had been in Talutah, for he had been just a babe at the time, but every now and then a shred of a memory would float to the surface of his subconscious, reminding him of just who his real parents were.

She turned the same question on him, and for the first time the boy realized what a hard inquiry he'd given her. There was a shrug, followed by a lighthearted chuckle, one that resounded very much like Gerhardt's did in this type of situation. He may not have been biologically linked to the King, but he was very much his son. He nodded, agreeing with her comment about home just being home. That was probably the best way to answer that question. He would give her mental attraction points for coming up with a better answer than just a shrug and a chuckle. Intelligence really was attractive. But the dame took it a step further, elaborating on how they'd gotten here. The backstory was all too familiar, and then she spoke on about her father's rule. A brow raised, it didn't sound much different than his own home. As she tagged on the last bit about following in his father's footsteps, Maverick's chuckle erupted once more, this time a bit louder and more persistent. "More like wallow in them," he would reply. It was true, Gerhardt left big pawprints behind him, and Maverick wasn't sure if he would ever be big enough to fill them - no matter how much he wanted to. "My father can be strict as well, but I suppose you have to be if you're going to be a leader. Mother can be a royal pain, heh, I can just imagine her face whenever she realizes I'm gone.." Adette would be the very definition of pissed off when he finally scampered back onto familiar soil, but he didn't care in the slightest. A boy needed to roam, it was a fact - or so he'd convinced himself.

But he felt he should share just a bit more about his home, his life. "I am familiar with the volcano-ridden land. It was once my home," he paused, eyes drifting off to some random point in the distance. "My real parents are still there. They got lost in the inferno trying to save my brother, sister, and I. Gerhardt and Adette quite literally stumbled across us, and as they say... the rest is history." His tale was epic, sad, and quite the tragedy, but the boy was almost glad to say he'd gone through it. Because you see, he'd survived - and not only that - he'd thrived despite the disadvantages. Maverick Tahir-Mathias had beaten the odds, and was now stronger because of it. He'd never told another living soul his story, not personally, anyway. The boy wondered how she would take to it. Sympathy would be a given, but he hoped it would not be overly so. He didn't need pity, didn't want it at all. There were others who probably had worse stories than he. Eyes traveled the landscape until they met her sapphire ones, locking in for a moment before pulling away reluctantly and gazing elsewhere.

"Speech,"

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