THE TANKLIKE SON OF IFRIT & EVERLYSE
[ male - two years - 31 inches, 130 pounds - no imprint - no mate - glorall ]
His initiation into the pack had been rather unclimactic. There was no defiant oath, no ambitious speech. He simply… was. Dieloch has been ultimately released from his mind, despite the bloody breath, and unless someone was to remind him - he’d find no reason to challenge, run from, or even remember the experience.
Instead he has gone about taking his leisure with the environment. Taking a turn about the packland, if you like, as he comes to terms with his new home and it’s climate and lifestyle. Eden, it seemed, was not for surplus of anything, not even members. It was oddly straightforward and refreshing. The place is strangely calm, oddly reminiscent of their Alpha’s name - though he could certainly sense the notes of smoke and mirrors on the topic as well. Utopia’s simply did not exist. Moladion was too different between the packs for it to be any other way.
This thought is what is running through his mind as he comes to Luk’s little resting place at the edge of the cliff with paws hung over the side. "You look a bit like the weather," he says, "a little chilled and no shortage of clouds in your eyes." He says mildly, as unflavorful as he can so as to keep at a neutral stance and distance. "Name’s Panzer, new to the place. What’s that out there?" He asks, noting how Luk had been staring out at the place while the sun set.
"Is it a part of Glorall?" not that he had any chance of swimming that channel easily, but he was still young enough to be keen on adventure when it was so easily conceived and offered by the world around him.
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