From the moment her senses opened up to the world—wide eyes and perked ears and all—Kira had harbored an insatiable lust for the outside. She had poked her snout past the den’s walls before she even knew how to use those too-large puppy paws attached to her lanky brindled legs. She had sucked in Malignant’s hazy death-tainted air as if she were drowning in the chilled darkness of her underground nursery; her glowing amber lanterns had watched the honey-thick sunlight chase shadows across the forest floor with the hunger of a predator; a mama’s girl at heart, Kira never tired of feeling Queens nearby, yet she longed to see what the fur of other wolves felt like, constantly wondering if they were all as sleek and smooth as the rich chocolate robes she knew so well. Kirastasia wanted out. She wanted freedom without even understanding the concept of liberty. And now, with Queens absent and Kavik refusing to explore, the arctic duchess finally had her wish.

“Fireflies!” A delighted shriek chimed from Kira’s throat as her deft pawsteps disturbed a swam hovering just over the dense carpet of decaying leaves. Kirastasia reviled bugs—spiders especially—but these glimmering creatures were far more like stars than actual insects. They were too pretty. Without heeding the mud clinging to her pallid toes, the callow princess twirled into an impromptu waltz amidst the dirt and roots, eerily elegant for her age. Her paws seemed to hover an inch above the earth. It felt positively delectable to stretch her limbs at long last.

And then—the ghost arrived.

Kira’s jubilant dance abruptly ceased as her flame-colored windows watched a large silvery male almost materialize from the mists, moving as silently as a true phantom. It was only his Malignant scent—warm and musky and adrenalin-punching—that told Kirastasia that this was a creature of living flesh. She sniffed at the air uncertainly, portraying a vulnerability rare of those in Queen’s bloodline. His voice throbbed in the space between them. Soothing. Serious.

Just in case though, Kirastasia took a nonchalant step back. The gaze she fixed him with was more curious than afraid; Queens had kept her and her brother hidden for a good reason, wanting to spare them from those that might target them as a way to destroy the tenuous alliance between Malignant and Abendrot. Kira doubted the shadow-painted warrior wanted to harm her . . . but it never did well to be overly cocky. His knives glinted handsomely from between the velvet curtain of his muzzle. A relieve shiver relaxed her muscles when the brute at last allowed a deep chuckle to tumble from his throat like smooth stones.

“Hello, Arcadian,” replied the pup promptly. She enjoyed the way his title formed in her mouth, crisp consonants and hard vowels fit for a gladiator. He instantly soared into her favor and the next moment Kirastasia spoke her lilting soprano lyrics warmed with the same infatuation a fan-girl would give her favorite celebrity. “My name is Kirastasia—but you can call me Kira! My brother’s name is Kavik, but he’s......not here.” An adorable pout dropped upon her glossy brow. Stupid Kavik, missing out on all the fun! Slowly, Kira’s fluffy tail began to wag, stirring the air behind her striped haunches. Without any self-consciousness at all the girl trotted close enough to Arcadian to bury her nose into the dense fur of his ruff—which she did, suddenly and without any warning, inhaling deeply his exhilarating scent and burbling out a happily surprised murmur. Arcadian smelled of Queens, but not like Queens, so he was not a blood-relative. Not understanding the possible awkward repercussions of the question, Kirastasia enthusiastically asked, “Are you a friend of Mother’s like Father is a friend of Mothers?”



{{OOC: You are incapable of shitty posts you fabulous animal <333 FANGIRLING SO HARD BECAUSE I FINALLY GET TO POST WITH ARCADIAN OHMYGOD?!?!?}}