His grin only widens, snowy white teeth flashing like gems from within his beaten gold and copper features, black eyes gleaming like dark diamonds as she she’s fit to argue his point once more, laughter bubbling from within with good natured intent and easy, steady humour. After all, the boy is very good natured by design, easy going and willing, unfortunately however, he becomes easily distracted with the world around him, much of his sweet nature hidden beneath his own inadequate social attempts and blinded beneath the glare of his mental brilliance, quite often hiding the boy within. His laughter is smooth and light, yet lathered with the deeper, rich tones of a true male, one befitting his newly deepening voice- a voice that has finally started to match his muscular, heavy form and broad chest. Malina’s lip folded into a half smirk as his own laughter rumbled within his chest, her comment earning her another devilish grin of astoundingly gorgeous proportions before his head shook in polite yet assured disagreement. If he has one fault, it is surely that of all male kind- unable to admit he is wrong. Then again, he doesn’t believe he is.

“You will find indeed that a rock, by design, cannot possess a corner. It may develop, at best, an edge or point, yet by definition these are not corners. Thus I challenge you, dear Angel, to corner me with a rock.”

Both eyes lifted, dancing a moment, brow wriggling atop his head with comical ease at his playful challenge. After all, he may have never been a child, may have been born with a mind so far advanced that it would seem he is incapable of play- and perhaps that is true, but no one has attempted to engage him in his type of ‘play’ before. For the golden son of Indus, play is not tumbling and rolling, it is not senseless chasing- such skills are easily mastered and for one with legs hardly given to be long, Pan had learned from a very early age how to swing such games in his favour and best exploit his assets. No- his type of games are challenges, mind games, actions and activities that allow him to be exactly who and what he is, his level of comfort increasing, as it has in this moment, because he believes, despite being a girl (a difficult creature he has learned) Malina has a clever mind, one he sees brightness in and responds to accordingly- and he loves that. He forgets to be nervous, he forgets to check his words or dumb himself down, for he doesn’t need to, not with wolves such as Malina or Ever or Seven. They understand, they challenge in return and he thrives off such things.

“As for your assumption on my travelling prowess I can assure that I have travelled fairly extensively in my time. I am however, yet to see the fabled City of Angels. Regardless, I have already begun organisation for this expedition with Everchime and Selene, packmates of mine who seemed unusually keen to spend time in my company though I cannot be given to understand why. Most wolves do not find my academic pursuits.....amusing, particularly not those of the feminine persuasion.”

He shrugged lightly, his mind having passed this momentary lapse, focused now more entirely on the experiment at hand. Of course, with his somewhat obscure manners of socialisation the dear boy, coloured in copper and gleaming gold, born of Moladion royalty and gifted above all had never paused to consider for even the vaguest moment that females would find him....appealing. Attraction is not scientific, it has no ability to truly be studied and thus Pan dismisses it entirely as a fable at best. Thus he does not truly notice the attempts of more then one female to display affection, his brilliant mind locked within his next adventure. Perhaps however, with the coming of his fourth spring- such things will change, other instincts will take control and demand of that brilliant mind a basic desire he has yet to explore. After all, if anything, he does understand the role of males and females within winter, though the actual act still remains somewhat hazy to his mind. Perhaps he will experiment with that in the coming winter a year from now. Malina seemed to frown at his words, contemplating his examples and evident attempts to improve her knowledge with the tales of his childhood, wondering indeed if she had heard the tales of her Master and his own Mother before she moved to answering his own question. He paused a moment, ears pricked forward, enraptured with her words, for indeed any form of learning is a delightful thing before he shook his head, lashings of gold glinting in the pale, weak sun.

“My Mother died before any of the knowledge of her bloodline could be passed to myself. She was born mixed you see, part Spartan, part Amazonian, of a Barbarian bloodline and my Father and I did not see eye to eye, he did not understand my...academic pursuits and tried to encourage me to understand his style of fighting, though I could not. You see my sire, Indus, was an exceptionally tall male, the swiftest in al Moladion they say and the last Knight of Trenus before the take-over of the Angels. He never once lost a battle, yet his style could not conform to my build. I also had no interest in learning and, forgive me for indulging you in this foolishness, but it is believed by many that my Family is cursed. That the Angel King cast some spell upon us. It is utter nonsense, of course, yet either way you wish to look at it, he vowed to be rid of my Mother and Fathers lines- for he wished no children but his own to be able to lay claim to Trenus.”

He paused a moment, head tilting in his consideration, meeting Malina’s gaze levelly a moment, honestly, before speaking once more.

“I am one of fifteen Malina and of all my siblings, not one has lived till the age of four. This is our curse. Myself and Seven, we are all that remains and I am the last child of Wild Justice, for Seven and I only share our Father. To my knowledge however, the Angel King does not know I still live.”

He shifted, perhaps uncomfortable for the first time, aware that perhaps he had become to carried away in his own tale- after all, the boy adores stories in any form and yet perhaps on this occasion he has shared to much, yet surely Heyel no longer cares to be rid of a line that has but one boy left? For how long can an Angel hold a grudge? Blackened gaze lifted to Malina a moment, watching her features before he became content to hurry past it, after all, despite his often flamboyant speech....Pan is private, he speaks very rarely of- himself. His upbringing is a tale of constant death and loss and he wishes not to burden his mind with it.

“Perhaps, if you’d like I will tell you the story, though I only know it from my Mother’s side, before she died.”

It was then that the experiment begun, his mind happily content to indulge itself within this as Malina lunged towards him, the golden boy twisting upon the earth, catching her own form with his hind limbs as she leapt, tossing her easily aside mid-air before he rolled, scrabbling a moment in an effort to pull himself up, realising indeed that, since nobody had been inclined to say ‘go’ (an oversight in his judgment) he had perhaps been caught off guard and allowed for an opening, one Malina was only to inclined to take as he pulled himself awkwardly up, only to have her butting at his throat, another string of laughter erupting from within as his own head swung to the side, grabbing gently as the loose folds of her neck in momentary play. Surely, had this been a real fight he would have met a rather unfortunate death and yet, had she missed or acted with indecision he is inclined to believe, by luring her close, he could still maintain a hold. Yet the move with exceptionally risky. Hmm. Interesting. He pulled back, swatting at her with a paw, head tilting as he sat, contemplating these actions before she spoke again, his head nodding after a moment.

“I do not believe I learned it so much as simply attempted to test it. Obviously it would only work if you have the muscle to perform it and yet it is highly risky as you just saw. I exposed my throat and stomach, yet, were I to catch you well enough I would easily unbalance you and were you to land badly, be on my feet once more before you recovered, such a move also lures you very close, if your aim is accurate I would surely be killed, yet, were you to miscalculate by even a fraction of a second and I find my feet in time, the entire side of your neck is exposed to me. How enlightening! You could perform the move on an opponent lighter then yourself, but not heavier, were you to try and flip me you would fail. It is entirely based on size, by my measurements, it would work on someone the same or lighter. As for other experiments, yes, I have another. Race me.”

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