She is oblivious to the recent politicking that had begun to plague the lands of Moladion, unaware of the recent actions of a cousin that would put a black mark on the Angel name, ignorant of the earth-shattering fact that Heyel no longer walked this world with them, that her own litter-brother was responsible for his blood on the ground. Heyel wasn’t supposed to die, no matter how old he got he was simply too damn stubborn and everyone knew it. Still in her uninformed state she is nothing more than impatient as she stands blatantly atop her perch, one paw stamping on the red rock as her dark tail flicked irritably at her heels. Had Isola been within Diveen she would have been at her daughters side in an instant, and the fact that Solara cannot find the familiar bright form of her mother against the crags only tightens her chest further. Something had happened here, for otherwise nothing would have so cut through the heart of the badlands.

It took her a moment longer than it should have to hear someone approaching, so consumed was she in her fretting and she immediately chided herself for it. The most basic part of her training was to be aware of your surroundings at all time, and if an attack had in fact been made on Diveen it was entirely plausible that there were less than savory characters about. However as she whirled about, the ruff on the back of her neck beginning to stand up slightly, all she is confronted with is a young wolf who looks unsettlingly like her grandfather. Her body relaxes almost instantly, little fear of being harmed by someone who was still practically a pup as he settled in almost daintily. Oh he was assuredly at least part Heyel.

As he begins to speak she does not sit, choosing still to simply stand and take him in as he rambles off his heritage and apparently future dreams in a very angelic fashion, so much so that it causes a smirk to pull at the corners of her lips; she had missed her families flair for the dramatic. “Solara, first born daughter of Isola and Kane, granddaughter of Heyel and Zeivah, Warrior among Angels,” she replied in a like fashion, eager to play the games they so favored within the badlands. It is then he extends his muzzle, and for the first time in years she steps forward and responds in like fashion. The connection of their muzzles is brief, she is not overly fond of physical contact if it weren’t necessary, before she shifts her weight back and looks down upon him once more; though when he was grown he might match her for height, for now his body still has a little left to grow.

His next words, however, cause her head to tilt slightly to the side in confusion, why would they be returning home? What had happened that they were forced to leave, for no one of their bloodline would have ever left Diveen by choice? “And where, exactly, are they returning from? What has happened here?” she questioned though it neared a demand as impatience tainted her voice once more. Her mismatched eyes would have bored holes in the boy awaiting his answer had she not been distracted by movement amongst the rocks, the creamy form of her older brother standing in stark relief to his surroundings.

With his approach she finally sits back upon her large haunches, eyes narrowing slightly as a shadow crosses his face only to disappear once more before he speaks. Her dark ears flick at his words, violet and golden eyes staring blatantly into his own as if they would give her the answers she sought. “Yes, brother, it seems much has changed and you have risen high in the world,” her tone is not as cheerful as some might be at their own homecoming, but then her jealous of Achilles has always been thinly veiled. She was the first born princess of Kane and Isola’s blood in these lands, she should have been the next Queen of Diveen, to follow in her mother’s pawprints, and yet she had chosen Achilles instead. A fact which she had never understood, as to why he was better than her, yet this was not the time and place for such things and she needed his support to achieve her own goals. So she smiles lightly, though concern still shows in the wrinkle of her forehead, “And what caused them to leave in the first place? Kane and Isola would not have left willingly.” She needed answers, needed to catch up on what had taken place in her absence and then put her own plans into motion. That was her biggest issue with Achilles, that he had simply been handed his role and not had to work for it. It was why she had left, why she strove to make more of herself, and why she would see her own star risen high in the end.