Take a plain black marker and write this on your chest

*Miksa* · 06-24-2015, 01:00 PM

Walk | Talk | Think

The call for the pack to gather filled the boy with a sudden sense of dread. He hardly felt like he had been doing enough to pay back the kindness this pack had given him when they had welcomed him into their midst, and the thought of facing them with nothing under his belt to speak of on his behalf made him feel like a useless lump. Miksa hesitated as the call finished ringing on the air, but in the end he knew he would go. Not showing would have spoken even worse about his character than everything else, and even if he might have been a poor contributor to the pack he at least knew he could own up to it.

His head was low and his brilliant yellow eyes downcast when he approached the group. In little quick upward glances he assessed the group, spotting Frith and the children that had collected him from the northern lands. Miksa gazed at Varda just a bit longer than the rest, recalling her efforts in drawing him out, but deciding not to bother her with his self-perceived failure he chose to find himself a lonely little piece of the meeting ground where he would bother no one. There he sat, still sneaking little glances up and over at Frith and the white wolf beside him, presumably his mate and the mother of Varda and Aslan, while he waited for things to begin.

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