The midnight fur running over his pelvis shudders and his thighs almost want to brace for impact as he feels the gentle thrumming of sand behind him. He casts a single cold eye back at her. Why is she so willing to follow me? Has it not occurred to her that I … No, not I, that the things that could be following me could suddenly decide that she looked … More fun to play with? Well, I shall not permit that, I will be her dark guardian. For I was the last prince of, Ouch! Headache. Also, is it normal to walk around expecting to be attacked from behind at a moment's notice? A chuckle resonates in the back of his throat. Don’t be so willing to invite me into your home, my little angel. Have you ever asked yourself; does the viper sleep with the bats because they live there or is it a convenient place to grab food on the go?

For a moment Deathscythe’s stomach flips over itself. Lillyheart had often bragged that her blood family had been cannibals. The thought repulsed him to his core. Eating the dead for survival was one thing. Murdering another in cold blood and consuming their still warm flesh, that was just pure evil. For a moment the tips of his canines slip past his black lips. He hopes that she had more decency than to have fed off of his family's carcases. But, to be honest, he wouldn’t put it past her. Cersei asks where his mother is, and he simply shrugs his shoulders in response. He’s not being purposefully dismissive. He feels rude doing that, but, at the end of the day. It was for her own good that he was doing this.

For several moments he ponders that question. He never recalled his mother mentioning Diveen, not even during the very rare occasions that she had night terrors. “I’m sorry, Cersei, my mother never told me about Diveen.” He looks her straight into her mystical eyes, the ice blue rings of his thawed ever so slightly. Could he trust her? Information was very … dangerous in the wrong paws. At least that is what Lillyheart had drilled into his skull from day one. With a heavy sigh he rolls his shoulders and makes his choice. If this truly was upper Moladion, then she should already know these names. Unless she or his mother had been lying to him, the latter for years. “The packs my mother listed to me are; Solevion, Litherum, Judila, Casteon, Trenus, Scotavia, Ferrine, Paracon and …”

He fell silent, a moment ago he had listed the names so confidently, why was the last one seemingly stuck in the back of his throat like a tennis ball. He almost looked like he was going to choke it up. Slowly Deathscythe rested his muzzle between his front legs where he gently licked and groomed the long silver fur from around his elbows. Maybe he could brush the name out of his teeth. His jaw clicks a few times before he lifts his head. “The last one was … Mirovis,” the name had resonated around his ribcage and fallen from his black lips in whisper. That’s a name that had not been said up here for many years. His heart fluttered like a bow string against his ribs. Why is my heart reacting so violently?

He winced and brought his right paw over the back of his skull. “I’m ok,” he reassures her, even though he’s clearly in … physical pain? How did that happen. He scratches the dense black fur around the back of his ear before he decides to come clean. “I was caught in a cave in, a long time ago, I was less than a year old.” For some reason he trusts this female enough to lower his leg and expose the back of his head to her. “You can still kind of see where I got knocked out cold. The whole roof of our den collapsed on top of us.” He keeps still and permits her to look closely with her curious gaze, but he really didn’t like exposing his old injury. Did anyone ever like admitting their vulnerability? She might also see the scars in his ears and around his jowls. Some of them were very fresh, mother doesn’t forgive mistakes easily and she always resorts to teeth.

“Mum told me I was out cold for at least three days.” His breath shudders, as he wants to finish the story, but, it’s painful for him, even all this time later. “Apart from me and my mother, everyone else … They were gone. Dead. Or missing.” He turns his attention to the cave mouth, half expecting to see his mother watching him from the shadows like an albino bat. But she’s still not there. He clicks his tongue against the back of his fang dismissively, “As for mother, I don’t know where she is right now. She has always told me to wait in place if we got lost or separated and she would come and find me…” He trails off again. Suddenly there is a realization and a cold fear washes down his soft face. Instinctively he shuffles and purposefully he places himself between his new friend and his lingering, haunting, demons that live in the shadows. Should someone or something be watching them, he will be prepared to spring into action to defend her life, like the primal beast that he is.

“Cersei, you cannot allow my mother to find me with you, I…” he growls in a low tone so that she is aware that he is being deathly serious. He thinks for a moment on how to say this, he’s desperate for her companionship, but he’s tired of only having imaginary friends. He lowers his voice to a gentle whisper, “I don’t know how she will react to you. She’s kept herself away from everyone else on purpose. She keeps telling me that she was trained to be an assassin, by an alpha male called Devil May Cry.”

A heartbeat passess before Dell-Boy adds in a more cheerful tone, “Is he still alive? I’ve always wanted to see him.” Actually, there was a list of tales and legends (as long as his spine, if not longer) that he had been told about that he wanted to know much more about. Some more than others of course.