It always seems more quiet in the dark

Stolas quietly sipped at his tea, ruminating on the paths life had taken him down to land him in this place. His life had been a sordid story of heartbreak, betrayal, and loss, all to leave him this physically and emotionally scarred shell of who the prince had once been when he had been a Klein. Now, he was a shadow of the past; regal as he was, Stolas Klein was no more. Only Stolas Goetia remained, and he had been rendered bitter and melancholy by the cruel hand of fate. But toward Triss, he would show no bitterness, no contempt, no jaded apathy to the world he'd been stricken low by. She still showed that spark of youthful hope and life, and he would nurture it if he could.

"Yes, it was..." Stolas remarked with a wistful sigh when Triss noted how lovely it sounded. Sounded. It was all long gone now. "But that was from a time far gone now. Never to return." Never again would he walk the halls of his family's ancestral home. Never again would he spend countless nights gazing out his windows and through his telescope at the celestial bodies above. Never again would he tirelessly reorganize his library's bookshelves. Stolas' gray eyes fell to his cup, swishing the tea inside back and forth with idle paws, watching how his reflection distorted in the surface. An apropos depiction of himself.

In an attempt to pull himself out of his rueful dwelling, Stolas took a deep breath and looked to Triss again. "When were you born, Cryptis?" he asked with a tilt of his head. "What season, and were you an early, mid, or late season pup?"

"Stolas"