How much did blood matter? Cersei’s father had always been adamant of its importance and once, Cersei had been too. As she had gotten older and seen more, that had changed though. Family was important but blood didn’t dictate anybody’s life – or rather, it didn’t have to. She had chosen to change herself and she wondered why others hadn’t been able to escape the cycles that existed within families and packs alike. She couldn’t believe that it had been strength alone that had made it possible for even the strongest wolves, like her mother and father, had been unable to change themselves. Ah, she couldn’t help but smile a little over that thought. Even after all her years, some part of her was still child enough to think that her parents had been strong.

Cersei had watched Whisper’s expression change, and she had felt the young wolf’s very energy become dimmer as she spoke and yet, Cersei continued to speak regardless. It was an important story, a history that should have been heard and spoken a long time ago. Maybe, she thought, it was the telling of history in an honest way that allowed others to let themselves outrun it. As they walked through the marshes, Cersei could only hope that she had the ability to sow good seeds, the kind of seeds that had a harvest worth reaping.

When Whisper spoke, Cersei turned to face here once more. Aithne, a queen that Whisper’s mother had known (she could not help but wonder if it meant Whisper’s own mother had been a high-ranking wolf), and a name ever so vaguely familiar to Cersei. Peaceful but prideful...it made Cersei grin, a wane thing as she looked forward at the path they followed. She was glad to hear that there had been peace at least for a short while. Her smile remained when she turned back towards Whisper as the girl spoke of her mother, but it faded quickly when her voice faltered and spoke the name. Aranck. Aranck. Cersei repeated it several times in her mind, committing it to memory. Aranck, the Traitor King....

Whisper’s story was something else. She spoke frankly and though Cersei wanted to smile at her fondness of her mother, the words that surrounded even that small joy were too disturbing to allow it. He had come to murder and hold hostages. Who had he been to believe himself a king? Who had he been to believe such violence was required? It made her fur bristle, her brows furrowed deeply in frustration. Every time peace seemed to begin growing in Iromar, somebody tore it out. No, she thought, they didn’t remove it completely. Like the flowers of spring, it only went dormant. It was there in the moors, underground and safe, waiting for a new spring.

"Your mother and father sound like incredible wolves, and I think you are too, Whisper. For anybody to endure such things and overcome them...” She paused, looking over the girl’s face and smiling. Really, she couldn’t see even a drop of malice in her features. Had she managed to outrun Iromar’s history? Had Avery and the wolves that dwelt there been able to bring about spring? "I know the name Blackthorne. It is a name spoken in Diveen, and I understand why that is now. Thank you, Whisper, for sharing what you know. I think...I think I have a clearer image now.” But what was she supposed to do with that image? What did it really look like? She pursed her lips in thought. Well, she thought, it ought to mean meeting with Avery some day at least. That would be a good start, right? It had been a long time since she had felt a real sense of purpose – Faye and Sinon were a different kind of purpose – and she wanted to grasp onto it quickly...

But Whisper’s question caught her off guard. She blinked, a hm of thought beneath her breath. The Demon Code...yes, yes. What had it been? She had never been given the name Demon, after all, and even her grandmother had never been formally permitted.

"It has been a long time so, I might have some things...wrong, or mixed up. There were secrets, special rites, that they kept between their kin,” she said after a few moments of quiet. "For starters, those of lower rank always spoke before those of a higher rank. It was a small thing but...well, things often aren’t like that in packs elsewhere. Because you were lower in the ranks, it meant you were weaker, and because of that, your words weren’t important enough to wait for,” she said with a grin and the smallest hint of a laugh. Despite everything, that had always been interesting to her. She had been raised to value the words of elders and leaders and to be quiet while they spoke but not the Demons. No, the Demons got the joy of speaking in exchange for being looked down on.

"They also culled children born with white markings, unless they thought themselves strong enough to restrain the ‘good’ in them. They were ‘Marked’ by the Angels, you see, just as the Angels had originally looked down on black marked children,” she continud with a grimmer voice. They had accepted non-Demons but to be anything but black and bloodstained meant eyes followed you closer and ears listened all the harder. Suspicion merely because of blood...Cersei sighed.

“Otherwise, they reveled in chaos. It was said that a Demon might do whatever they wish upon any other so long as they did not share the blood of their own kind. Death, cannibalism, theft...it did not matter so long as they were not kin. They cared for their kin, I suppose, deeply. They mourned – the entire pack – when one passed and celebrated and feasted when they were born. They valued strength and family but...in a violent kind of way, I suppose.” But how different was that to other families? Even Whisper’s mother had killed for her family and kin, just as Cersei’s own father and mother had killed for their own idea of family. She shook her head. Ah! She hadn’t expected to think so much when she had come to Iromar, though she was glad she had been able to even if they weren’t particularly...fond thoughts.

"You’re interested in history,” she observed to distract herself, her eyes narrowed slightly though not in suspicion, her mouth a small grin once again. "Are you a storyteller for Iromar? Some kind of historian?” She tilted her head, curious to learn about the current Iromar too – beyond just Avery.