There are not many things in this world that Pan finds disagreeable, after all, he is by nature, very agreeable when he is given to understand what is required of him and those around him are given to be of an open mind and willing to understand that the supremely gifted young male is quite unlike any other- that his mind will never be quite comparable. This change in leadership however, has rendered the boy of copper and gold at a mental impasse of horrific proportions. His brothers decision to step down in return for a debt of blood is understandable, if not slightly unappreciated, after all, had he been consulted, Pan was entirely sure he could have consolidated a far better deal than this agreement of mainland and island and really, it is not so much the geography that has Pan staring with quizzical expression at the island his brother now lives on. It is the question of where exactly it is Pan himself belongs. Indeed, that is a question the gorgeous boy of sun and light has been attempting to answer since the day of his birth. He had belonged with Wild justice and Indus for awhile, then with Bahamut and Scotavia, then with Weylin and Glorall and truly, the boy had jsut begun to relax, to settle himself within Pack life once more having lived with only Salem and Seven for a good two years and now......Sulan has appeared. Of course, Pan does not judge this new Alpha, he is, of course, outrageously intrigued to meet a wolf, who, in turn, had met Angels, yet he also finds himself ill at ease. He does not wish to be marginalised as Weylin had and yet.....Weylin and Seven are the only family he has left. Pan has no desire to be part of an Island or a mainland. He wishes to be....both. Pack is a whole after all, not a half and it is with this dubious incorrectness of Pack formality that Pan finds himself afflicted. Is Glorall two packs now? Is Weylin still an Alpha? Pan is no longer third in command, that much he knows. Thus, he has resigned himself to a day in quite thought, resting beneath the shade of a large tree, not only to keep himself from the heat, but also to keep his pelt within the shade, unwilling to glow and gleam like a beacon as those obsidian eyes linger upon the bridge he’d built for Jaye, linking mainland and island. How Ironic.

His mind had only just begun to enjoy the perfection of that irony when the shouts of another caused the beautiful boy to raise his head, black eyes searching for the call as his head tilted slightly in recognition of the words. The language of Angles- in a voice he remembered from long ago. He had never considered the girl much beyond their original meeting, after all, she was female and unwelcome at the time within Soctavia, Pan’s natural shyness before such creatures having seen him perhaps slightly withdrawn, at least until he had discovered her apparent divinity, that same curiosity lifting him from the earth to send him pacing easily through the shallows and towards the border line, twisting and turning with expert ease, after all, Pan has navigated the entire pack land and spent rigorous hours developing an efficient way of moving through it. He rounded the last turn, pelt of copper, gold and bronze seeming to act as a reflection of all three beneath the early morning light as those black eyes peered upward at the girl on her boulder, her pelt darker- he believed, her legs longer and features more defined in an exceptionally feminine way that marked her a rather excellent example of her species. In fact, he rather believed she was taller than himself. Where Seven had grown tall, like Indus, Pan had grown broad and powerful, his weight easily superior to the girls own and well muscled with his continued and regiment efforts at training- if only to see if exercise truly held benefits or simple daily living was enough. He shifted a moment as he gazed upward, a slight nervousness still stirring within him at being within the presence of a female, a creature he believes he never will understand fully- before he allowed a dazzling grin of gorgeous proportions to resonate across his features, dipping his head in his infamous and flamboyant bow.

“Little Golden has come, although I must say that the name is still unfortunately fitting, as you can assuredly tell from my evident proportions I have failed with reckless abandon to grow anything even remotely passable as legs. Hence I still remain short of stature and gold of pelt, rendering Paulo Aurem a relevant nickname.”

He beamed towards her once more, demonic black eyes alight as he moved across the border line to sit at the base of her stone. He is quite certain his mind will function better away from the anarchy of Glorall right now and indeed, though it is no more than a few strides, he finds himself more content as he seats himself in all his golden glory, head tilting with a sudden curiosity.

“Have you come to assassinate someone? I should be quite fascinated to see your work and indeed I should be exceedingly grateful if you would answer the questions I have in regard to you and your Order that have become imponderable within my mind of late. Although, if you have come seeking to remove the life of another I find your method unusual, unless I am the aforementioned target in which you would have been very successful in luring me out, yet your execution of the deed would be quite impossible given your current position, plus your height and weight in comparison to my own. In fact, if you wanted to assassinate me you would have been significantly better off on that stone over there, it would place you in an almost perfect position to leap and access my throat and spine, whereas your current stone would allow me to simply step aside or under you.”

He grinned readily, as always, unable to perceive the gentle arrogance and presumptuous tone of his words as he readily continued in his usual monologue.

“At best you would land atop me and indeed that would work only if I were simple of mind and did not deduce the angle of your jump and assuming I had failed in that basic and instinctive desire to move and you did land atop me- out weight difference and my superior muscle would have send you, with your already increased trajectory- flying. In fact I should like very much to test it. Would you lunge at me, Malina?”

Her name rolled easily from his tone, polite, correct, formal and yet tainted with an odd self- assurance so easily misunderstood and blunt ego and arrogance when indeed, as always, he only wishes to help. He stood, lifting readily to his paws, moving slightly sideways with obvious care to stand a few paces back, giving her room to make a decent enough leap before another thought suddenly took him, lop-sided grin dashing across his face with a pretty gleam.

“It has only just occurred to me that perhaps you had summoned me for a reason and that you may not have time to indulge me in my....experiments. Was there something you wanted? Oh- you smell of wildflowers, by the way, it is very lovely and I compliment your choice.”



p a n
all the world is made of faith and trust and pixie dust