Once again, Quintus Nero had taken to wandering. Though he had briefly been given the task of watching his newborn siblings during an important pack meeting, his parents seemed otherwise quite preoccupied. It wasn't a surprise -- he knew the first few weeks of life were the most important for the children, but it didn't stop the boy from feeling a bit ignored and irritated. And to add to his foul mood, he had discovered that his parents had stepped down as Queen. What did that make him? A mere subordinate in the Kingdom? A soft huff escaped his lips as he wandered, with no clear goal in mind, dancing about the borders purposelessly. And so it was with fervor so drastically unlike him that he would slip from the borders of the Kingdom, heading aimlessly away from the eastern border. His frustrations were perhaps ungrounded, but part of him had believed he'd had some claim to the throne, someday. And how easily his parents had let it slip from their grasp. There was no way he could claim the throne; and while the more selfish part of himself wanted it, he didn't truly want to even try to tear it from the grasp of another. Especially Loccian. His thoughts would quiet in his mind as he grew further from his home, heading in the direction where the sun rose in the sky each morning. He had never been quite so far from his home, and found himself wondering what he might find. Minutes turned into hours, which seemed to pass quickly as he traversed over unfamiliar territory. Even in the more east lands, the air was bitterly cold, but his constant movement kept him warm. But the amount of snow seemed to taper off slowly, with each mile he conquered, until hardly a dusting littered the earth. His gaze would rise from the ground, searching the horizon. He was surprised at the strange landscape before him, flat but littered with large stones. They were oddly-shaped, reminding him strongly of the square structures back home. Quietly he would slip forward, coming to rest at the base of one of them, eyes trailing over the cracks that time had made in the stones, wondering what they might be.

OOC: Circe is about 5 months.



The girl would lay upon a large upturned stone high upon the ruins which allowed her cerulean eyes advantage over the lifeless land. She lay there among the rocks as if she were one of the stones. Her small body still, broken only occasionally by a bodily tremor caused by the bitter winter wind. The stone throne was a place she visited often. Here she retreated into her thoughts for contemplation and imagination were her only methods of play. Having little attention from her siblings and less from her often absent parents she had become eerily independent for her age and perhaps somewhat wild in the absence of company. She ran freely throughout Alacritis, seeking experience for the body and mind and when struck with the company of others she played the role of stranger well. Talking little and observing carefully from the limits of their couplings or society.



And the role would come to her again as a wanderer entered her view. Cerulean eyes would sharpen as awareness drew forth and thought became a second priority. He had not noticed her and so she would rise from the throne and slink downward among the ruins with leisure, her thin body slinking about the stonework in an agile manor until her chocolate body would come into the young man's frame of view. The girl's eyes trained upon him with contemplation, taking, for once, the first turn in conversation with a simple hullo.

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.

The girl would remain silent a moment. The stranger's dialect unfamiliar yet not entirely confusing. She understood what he expected in his inquiry but the formality of it set her aback. It was not something she was familiar with. That fact combined with her withdrawn personality made it all the more difficult for her speculative mind to settle upon a response. She could also not help being distracted by the boy's interesting appearance. She had not met someone such characteristics as unique as her own. The boy was, at least in her thought, more unique considering the tint of his fur. And even in his boyishness and the air of wariness she had to admit that he was cute. Yet the thought was mere analysis and that information would be quickly stored in her quick mind.



Quite nothing. She would speak in her usual fashion, expressing precisely what she desired in the most concise way possible. Her tone nonchalant, the statement casual but not colloquial as his had been. My name is Circe. Her wiry body would draw further forth, leaving two strides of space between them before resting her right side comfortably about the cold wall of stone beside them. Her reflective stare would not relent.

A haughty sort of look would appear on his features, but it would disappear just as quickly as it had came. She was a sight for sore eyes, and so he knew he should compose himself and act properly. But Quintus had never been particularly adept at hiding his emotions, and had never gotten the hang of feigning pleasure when he felt none, something his mother seemed very good at. And so for a long moment the boy would would stare, nose wrinkled and ears pinned back again his skull. "I can see that," he would reply with slight jest ringing in his voice. "This isn't the most exciting place, is it?" His gaze would sweep about, examining the strange rock structures with slight curiosity, before coming to rest on the girl again, who announced that her name was Circe. "And I'm Quintus. Quintus Nero." Once had surname had meant something, but his parents were no longer the King and the Queen. He would take a small step forward, eying her warily still.