He is watchful of her, in his own way, those eyes of vibrant emerald held upon her as his tall frame remains before her, long, ebony fur billowing lightly within the breeze as he regards her with a tilt of his head both this way and that. He is mad after all- or so they say. A fool. Incapable and yet how little they understand of the boy that is Lonhro and those eyes of vibrant emerald that see so much and dark ears that miss so little. He Lonhro- chosen by the white one of secrets to guard these very tales within Asteraia itself and perhaps in that Majora had been wise. For so few expect such a creature as the son of Tobias and Flare with his broken words, disjointed thoughts and twisted movements. For whom would ever bother to conceal their words about a wolf so seemingly lost within his own mind? Perhaps Lonhro is far more brilliant then they perceive- and perhaps he is not. It cannot be said, at least not in these moments. His gaze moves to meet her own, eyes resting at last upon her, for surely his eyes have rolled about, to stare at each and every thing about her save for her own eyes until the moment she speaks and his attention seems to fixate upon her with an intensity far too fierce for the moment- though he seems not to notice as he regards her. This one who is like the other but not. The other had been his friend. Would she too, be his friend? She speaks then and his head tilts once more, as if her words are curious this to his mind.

“Not King no- not….yet.”

These words are stronger than before, lacking his usual stutter and fragmented words as his lip lifts upwards in a simper that betrays those handsome features once more and his strange tail so long, marked in hairs of red and white flicks about in a momentary wave at his own speech, as if the sound of his voice pleases him entirely. Her second question however, sees his youthful features pause, frowning, unable to understand the implications of this question. He has never been asked what he is, these words foreign to him and indeed within this instance there is a suspicion that shadows across his features, a wariness of this female though why his mind has taken this upon itself to feel cannot be said. His understanding of emotions are often misguided, misused and indeed as such he seems conflicted in this moment- though he offers her no reply until she speaks again with a clarity of tone his mind finds far more agreeable.

“Lonhro….will listen….to the message. Maybe share….maybe keep….depends. Mother is….not Queen but….Father is King here..…this I know so maybe….I share….maybe I don’t…maybe I tell….the others who come. Tell….tell.”

He shuffles forward now, ears pricked forward as if to better hear this secret he awaits with evident and cunning glee.