Quintus Nero was far from independent, and yet his facade was of a self-reliant prince, rarely wavering and far too blunt for comfort at times. In reality, he craved acceptance and approval from his parents, and yet their affection seemed eerily spread between all the siblings. There were no rivalries within the family, nothing to place his frustrations on; and so he would leave home, brooding and frustrating over everything and nothing all at once.
And yet his distraught demeanor would falter as the scent of another surrounded him. His body would swivel to face her, gaze landing on a girl who seemed no more than a pawful of months younger than he. And yet she seemed no more than a pup to him, as though the few months that separate the two was a lifetime.
The stranger would leap from he throne, advancing upon him quickly. His scowl would return, but he made no move to flee. "Sup?" he would ask nonchalantly, unsure what she was doing here -- and if others might lurk nearby.
