did his genes matter? likely not to anyone in moladion anymore. but born a prince, he would die one just as well. he would respect his mother and her memory by being precisely what she had trained him up and raised him to be. it was in respect to her memory and the pride of what he represented of old moladion that he led the four of the sons of the original packs as he did. he kept them together, bound them as brothers beneath the fathership of bahamut before and himself as brother-king now. king of the remnants of that bygone time that others deemed forgotten or forgettable. he clung in a different way than seamus, clung different than his brother fenrir and very differently to his red-brother ifrit. ifrit was a slow progression into his father’s savagery, priding himself on the violence of their parent’s people. the red wolf, his cousin in fact, was reverting slowly to what his father had been in his youth. fenrir was the only one who had ruled a pack for any amount of time, though that time had been short before the plague after the flood.
but what mattered now was the girl who had nothing to do with those old ways any more than she had partaken of them through his demeanor and willingness to help one in need despite a lack of land to recruit for and his true-word offering to be at her whims till she were done with his company. he can see the flicker of her face at his term of endearment, an ear of his own flicking back in subconscious caution for having stirred her enough by that little edge of familiarity and backtracking mentally a step without a thought on it otherwise. he ceases to speak, though, and he is graced by a lovely smile as lively and full of cunning as she had given otherwise thusfar. only, then, his sad bidding not to overexert her flirtations on someone not worth the attentions seems to jar her intriguingly.
“it is flattering, miss, but you needn’t...” he tries a little softer, and he finds it sounds a little more sad than the first -- her eyes meeting his and silencing the rest of what he might have said. in that moment she stands suddenly and he looks at her patiently, not sure if she was deciding that he was too stuffy for not allowing her her flirtations or that she was tired of him because her game had failed to fluster or stir him as it had beneath the surface.
it is only to his gladness that he finds her circling him instead, striding in such a way that made her seem very connected to the earth between each toe. it is soothing to watch her, for all that she seems as edgy as he and his brothers often became when within asteraia for too long. asteraia was not trenus, not scotavia, not ferrine, not solevion. they would never be “home” again. at least not “home” as pertains to a single land. it is for this reason that when she sits beside him and speaks, he seems especially pleasantly surprised. “I’m not big on staying in one place for too long, I tend to wander from place to place, it’s hard to put down roots when you feel born with wings.” and he nods, a look of complete understanding in those blue eyes, her nudge broadening his face into a smile once more. “It’s a defense mechanism, you know.”
and tentatively and very discreetly short, he returns the nudge to her own leaner shoulder as he lets himself loose a small rumble of laughter at the back of his throat. “a woman after my own heart,” he says, not thinking of the irony of that statement. “my brothers and i are not bound to a pack but travel as one.” he lifts himself upright once more in his seat. “your wings need stretching, i gather. maybe we should walk and talk. at the very least i could offer you a safe rest after your travels to come to moladion, if you would like....” so he stands, golden coat catching the rays of the more fully risen sun in a brilliant way, his old nickname clearly purposed to describe him now. shining prince, golden as the golden queen of moladion.
“you see, my brothers and i have never been parted from each other and i have been a ruler for too long to bend a knee to another so easily.” there is a sheepish chuckle as he closes his eyes to the ruffling of a more prominent breeze through his golden coat. “call it pride, call it habit, call it old royal blood… what have you, it is my flaw, i suppose, and it is my brothers’ flaw to follow me despite it all.” he rolls his shoulders and shakes himself like she had done earlier. “we are only aligned with asteraia to pay a debt we owe it’s king for having been a vassal of our father.” and then with a pivot, he faces the direction of said safe resting place before turning his head to look back over his shoulder to the girl who was so like and so unlike him… a girl he was ever so fond of already.
NEIRIN
the shining prince ; of trenus
male | 17 years | 40 inches | 185 pounds
alpha of the fantastic four | fond of church (shh)
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