He would not be the follower. He would not stalk on the heels of his brother and sister, though truly, this day, he would be. A late riser, Rome wakes to find his siblings have fled the den and he makes quick use of the extra space, ready to go back to sleep and return to the bloody dream he had escaped from. He wondered if that was what battle was really like, if he could really triumph over his enemies like that, rip their hearts from their chests and make them fall to their graves with such a practiced ease as he had in his subconscious. Mother had filled his handsome head with her lore, which only egged the young boy on further to take an interest in such horrific scenes. This is when those notes reach his ears, and they tilt back to catch the message hidden within the tones of the howl. Slate and gold eyes roll in their sockets as he finds the want to move somehow. On his black paws, Rome stretches out the kinks in his young muscles and gives a yawn to the world. He snorts and off he goes, meeting the day with the lazy approach he always does. He moves out of the den, taking note of the now bare skeletal remains of the prey his mother chose before their birth, he finds them to be quite odd, these bones.

It takes him some time to make his large paws and stout body reach the point of the call, taking careful note that he is - as usual - late. His brother and sister are there, much to his chagrin, and he realizes that yet again he had followed them here. Oh, he hated being a follower, though he truly enjoyed his sleep. His gaze trails over the faces of those who gathered here, watching the stiff way Lillith waves her tail at a female pup (who was much smaller than he) and can only guess that the demonlet was her daughter. The ones she traveled with, Rome did not know, nor was he truly really willing to converse with them, not knowing who the pale one's parents were. This boy would be sticking with his own, unless he found that the unknown whelps parents were actually deemed worthy by his mother. He says nothing to any of them, simply sliding among them to sit next to his brother - and by far his favorite sibling, if only because it was easy to jeer at him and rile him to anger. Obsidian ears perk forward as Lillith begins to speak, though he does not raise his voice to be the first to answer her questions. He would not lower himself like that, Mother had taught him better. He remains silent, though the corpse does carry some interest to him, as does the lesson the Marquis was attempting to teach them.

He looked over the corpse of the wolf, searching for the weakness within his body, but with him dead it would be hard to tell. Rome smirks and looks to his brother, deciding that his answer would be most entertaining, and worth speaking first. "He had a Bleeding Heart?" He said it smoothly, inching out of Locke's reach and closer to Hepzibah. He laughs at his own joke, his eyes seeking to find his brother's with a gleam in them that spoke of an inside joke. Rome was amused, and if the others were not, it didn't matter much...provided of course that he wasn't the target of the Marquis' wrath.