He finds himself growing bored, having dragged his feet to meet this Coquette woman and not at all motivated as he had once found himself to be. As he aged, he grew more and more despondent. He had believed Eden to be some sort of god once, some paragon of wolf-being.
To be sure, Eden had done nothing to necessarily disprove that idea… only, he had grown up, had seen the flaws in others and decided that no mortal creature deserved the almighty reverence of a boy with an idol. He was too old for that kind of adoration, that kind of undying affection. He was too old to be allowing himself to hide in the shadow of an alpha, any alpha - he was prone to thinking.
He wondered if he would learn his purpose as some did, discover the grounding hammer and nail through imprinting. He hoped, ached for that kind of surety. Ached for the day he would stop second guessing, learning better, and picking apart all the things that he knew. When would he be allowed, again, to discover what he had been meant to accomplish without wondering where and when he would become a pawn in the chess game of Alphas.
What does give him some hope, however, is the decidedly sharp scent of one he should not have thought would ever find him here.
Coquette.
He had seen her from afar. Had hunted her name down to investigate her and found her with some Tavioran male telling stories. She had been too pretty, her story too fanciful, and he had yet to call on her. She, it seems, had come to find herself content with not knowing him until Alcmene decided to do a little upset in her lovely golden furred life. And Luk guessed he could not thwart what fate had designed.
“Coquette, as I live and breathe.” He says, sounding bored despite the marked attempt at enthusiasm. “I should apologize for not having looked for you, but oh auspicious day, my packmate brings you to me and saves me a bit of trouble tracking you down.” As if he would admit that little bit of recon, not. “I am Luk, welcome to the beaches of Glorall.”
His black and white head tilts, the two colored eyes in his skull locked onto her as he lets himself watch her now. He is a little young, but he can see that she is lovely just the same. His disinterest in life was hardly to say that he was unable to feel - it only happened to be harder for him than it was for others. “I hear you were brought here with a brother? Do I need to ask him some sort of permission to give you a date on the beach so we can break the ice like I have neglected with my poor manners?”.
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