He is not terribly late, for to be terribly late would seem to imply some sort of inability to gather himself in time for a meeting and Pan will allow no such thoughts on any of his abilities to be questioned. He does however, take his time, if not for any other reason then that he cannot find Selene and by his deduction of things she should have been in or near the den she had shared with his brother. Fathomless black eyes narrowed slightly upon this discovery of her absence, brilliant mind turning within his head as he turned from this place, a feeling of discomfort turning within himself. How many more must he lose? His Mother and Father of birth had long since been swept in fire and blood from this earth, his adopted Father, Bahamut was gone along with his adopted brothers, his beloved Weylin and his true born brother…..Seven. Seven with whom he survived so much, his other half for all intensive purposes and perhaps the only on who had ever been truly given to understand the boy that Pan had been, for indeed he is a man now, hardly a child anymore despite his short stature. Then again, while he would never be tall the glorious golden male had grown significantly in muscle mass, chest broad and powerful, muscle rippling and gleaming like the beaten gold and copper of his pelt as he moved away from the empty den and towards the pack meeting.

Perhaps he was unwilling to be present at such an event merely because he was unwilling in some respects, to accept the death of Weylin, the arrival of this new set of Kings adding a finality of sorts to his brother’s death that Pan simply wishes not to acknowledge, child prodigy or not, logical mind or not he still wishes to believe otherwise and indeed feels some resentment at this take over, Weylin’s throne barely cold before Makism and turned to take it and yet…such is the way of things and indeed, Pan’s love of order responds to this as well. It is an odd mix of emotion, one the brilliantly gifted young male is not truly equipped to deal with, after all, emotions often confuse him for there simple lack of science and he finds himself ill at ease with both this feeling of resentment, grief and indeed some kind of eagerness to simply move on once more. His entire family is now gone, there are none left and Pan is beginning to wonder why it is he has survived so long, born of a bloodline clearly doomed to destruction. He will study this fully later.

Moving into the group the gleaming golden male moves easily towards his preferred pack mates, brushing against Ever, his desire to be in her presence seeming to have increased with the changes in the seasons, surely hormonal, or so he believes, though having not fully studied this phenomenon he cannot be entirely sure. Even so he offers a gorgeous grin in her direction, black eyes meeting her own as he presses against her, nodding to the boy, Mortz and d-Mani in turn and SInopa in turn, both females he finds curious and yet intelligent in their own ways- before turning towards Makism himself, eyes narrowing slightly as he steps forward, a grin touching his features again before he offers his trademark flamboyant bow.

“It’s been a long time, Makism, Tarquin.”

He was a child, not yet even one the last time he’d set eyes on these males, his curious mind, now even further advanced still somewhat amused by the mating habits of this pair and indeed he is content to believe they will answers his questions on the matter later on.

“I am Pan, if your minds are given to be capable of such memory, brother of Weylin. I stood beneath him as his advisor, I have held that position since the age of two in capacities both official and otherwise.”



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