Aelion Nyrandor
Apprentice || Mentions: Zinniah, Akith’ki
Indirectly Mentions: Esen, Baiyen, Merrick, Syllivanna, Sarolta

Aelion spotted Akith’ki making his way over, a sudden, broad grin breaking across his face. “Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite half-dressed warrior!” he joked, unable to resist the urge. When Akith’ki draped his arm over Aelion’s shoulders, Aelion mirrored the gesture, throwing his own arm around his friend in response. Maybe it was Elariel’s inspiring speech or the impending trials that stirred a sense of gratitude within Aelion for Akith’ki’s presence.

“I doubt I’ll ever be fully ready,” he admitted, one of the few moments of honesty that night. As much as the male got on his nerves, Aelion always did find him easy to talk to. As his uncle said, they were brothers. “Besides, with you around, I know I’ll have someone to watch my back. Or at least to distract the enemies while I make my escape.” Teasing, the grin upon his face widened as he attempted to lighten the mood. Not that it helped much, for moments later, his gaze landed upon Sarolta, narrowing instantly.

He suppressed a sneer, feeling his usual distaste for her rise to the surface. It wasn’t just her presence that grated on him—it was the way she manipulated Akith'ki, subtly bending him to her will and pulling him into her games. Aelion never trusted her motives, nor did he believe she had Akith’ki’s best interests at heart. Despite these thoughts, he tried to push the tension aside and refocus.

Like Akith’ki, Aelion had initially been hesitant during the early days of their friendship, closing himself off and speaking only when needing to. But now, he embraced the male’s presence, preferring him over most individuals. Jokes and competitiveness aside, he was easy to talk to. Glancing to Akith’ki’s neck, he nodded at the addition. “It suits you.” Preparing to say more, a familiar voice cut through the noise of the celebration.

Aelion turned, his heart warmed at the sight of his aunt, Zinniah. He had always admired her ability to convey strength, even when the weight of the world rested heavily upon her shoulders.

“Forgive me, I must interrupt.”

Her words were direct, yet there was a softness in her tone that encouraged him to listen. Aelion nodded, sensing the gravity behind her next words. Arm lowering off of Akith’ki’s shoulder, he nodded. “I’ll be back in a second,” he told him, bumping his shoulder lightly with his own. He needed to find the others on top of Akith’ki afterwards. However, he would take his time. Some were also bidding the clan farewell, and Aelion did not want to rush the moment. He would find Merrick, Baiyen, Syllivanna, and Esen later. For now, his attention was upon Akith’ki and momentarily on his aunt.

With that, he stepped aside once more, his chest going from warm, to tightening. He knew that his aunt wouldn’t have interrupted if it weren’t important. Truthfully, Aelion was procrastinating finding her, for it meant that they had to soon part ways.

Aelion felt a jolt of shock as Zinniah suddenly placed her hunting bow into his palm. The smooth grip sent a rush of memories flooding back. He only imagined what the bow felt like. He had never expected to hold such a cherished weapon, let alone be entrusted with it. Blinking, it was that moment where the male nearly broke, waves of emotions overcoming him.

He could still recall the early days of his childhood spent at his aunt’s side, where she had taken him hunting in the dense woods that surrounded their home. Each outing had been an outlet for the grief that had threatened to swallow him whole after the loss of his parents. When the world felt heavy, Zinniah had been his refuge, teaching him how to channel his pain into focus and determination.

Zinniah had always been strict, setting high standards that pushed him to his limits. Amidst his training, she had also allowed him the freedom to express himself. Those moments in the forest, away from the chaos of his emotions, had created a bond between them that he had with no other.

It was Zinniah that taught him about the hunt—how to move silently through the underbrush, how to stalk prey without disturbing the tranquility of the forest, how to read the signs in nature. It was during those quiet, intense moments that he learned more than just the mechanics of hunting; he learned resilience, patience, and the importance of relying on one another.

The bow had always been off-limits to him. His Aunt Zinniah cherished that bow.

For him to even hold it? It was a moment that he didn’t see coming. Aelion was caught off guard, and that rarely happened.

Still blinking in disbelief, he lowered the weapon to his side, his gaze fixed on his aunt. Without a word, he reached for her, wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace. “Thank you, Aunt Zinniah,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. They had never been the touchy type; the closest contact they usually shared was a hand upon his shoulder, and he was fine with that. Yet this moment required more than a simple pat on the back or a handshake.

“I won’t let you down. I’ll bring it back to you, safe and sound.” He understood the stakes of the trials ahead, her words bringing him back to the present. Releasing his grip, he took a step back, her gaze holding him captive. Heeding her advice, he listened as she spoke, her words engraving in his mind. They were difficult to hear, but important, nonetheless. Aelion needed the reminder.

“I’ll make you proud, I promise,” he assured her, gripping her bow tighter. He understood the importance of the trials, not just for himself but for those counting on him—his family, his friends, his clan.

Ivan Lécuyer || Heir-Lieutenant || M: Alvaerelle, Kethryll'ia, Others

It was a strange sensation. He could see Alvaerelle's stilled form, her hand on top of his, hardly moving at all, but the sharp pops and wriggles beneath his fingers were beyond lively. To think that there were four bodies beneath him, and that at least one was protesting his presence with loud gumption, was surreal. It drew a wide smile to his lips, and he whispered, "Hello."

They already carried the roaring fires of both Samblar and Alvaerelle; Ivan couldn't imagine three infants wrestling in such close quarters for months on end. Come to think of it, he hadn't even experienced the feel of this particular miracle of life since his mother had carried Kethryll'ia, and his brother had hardly moved at all when he'd tried to feel them. To successfully do so again brought a sort of reverent excitement.

The moment was quickly replaced by a new, giddy feeling, and his cheeks grew warm as Alvaerelle leaned in and kissed one. Her lips were electric; every nerve in his body was firing off like he'd been struck by lightning. His fingertips felt numb as he placed them in the sand to brace himself against the unexpected -- but very welcome -- assault on his senses. Her rumbling purr near his ear was met with a soft, husky chuff of his own. "I suppose we should. And... thank you, Vae."

He got up and helped her to her feet, letting his touch linger on her hand for a moment before they set off to the clearing once more. As they arrived, Ivan was surprised to be met with the disappearing elders with apprentices in tow. Already? The queen's words brought a smile to his lips, momentarily distracting him from the fleeing youth, and he replied, "I look forward to it."

Her departure towards Esen left him standing alone, and it took several moments before he snapped out of his reverie and began to hunt down Kethryll'ia. He found the younger man in the general throng and quickly pulled him aside, muttering a "hold on" as he rummaged in the small pack at his side. A triumphant hmmph produced a paper thin, filmy fabric that had been unceremoniously bunched up into a fist-sized ball. Ivan shook it out to reveal a much larger cloth than what first glance would suggest, and he said, "It keeps the heat in where it's cold and the sun out where it's hot. Not too bad for camouflage, either... it reflects the colors of the landscape. I'm not sure what color it actually is. Anyway, Mother used it during her trials, then I used it for mine, and now perhaps it will be of use to you."

He offered his brother a tense, unusually affectionate smile and added, "Keep each other safe out there. And don't go around eloping with that old badger's son during the trials; not very romantic."

Ivan could see more apprentices running into the woods after the elders; the air was growing tense again with frantic anticipation, and it wouldn't be long before the retreating group all faded away entirely. He gave Kethryll'ia a hearty push and urged, "Get outta here, nerd."

Alvaerelle Wynzorwyn

Focused primarily on rinsing her wound the femme had managed to hear approaching footsteps allowing her pointed aud to flicker in its direction. Her now glowing lilac pools would shift from her wound to meet the individual who would garner her attention, Cyrus. Her gaze would narrow upon the brute pondering on what else the male could possibly wish to address following their scuffle. She’d turn her whole frame to meet his now, as if preparing to defend herself should it be warranted, her children now bounding about.

“I apologise for my behaviour, I should not have reacted like that. Even if it were not yourself to receive my anger, I should have directed it elsewhere.”

She allowed the male to continue his apology, listening intently, though maintained a warily annoyed expression. She could hear the sincerity behind his words, though also the strain to remain civil. His vocals were always known to veer more on the hostile end than gentle, it was what precisely made Cyrus uniquely Cyrus. Her upper lip would curl softly as his gaze would slither against her as if attempting to find something out of place, nasal bridge scrunching in equal distaste a hiss holding itself back. As his gaze focused upon her flesh wound she would return to her expression of annoyance preferring it over any other emotion at this point in time.

“You could request some comfrey and marigold to help calm that redness down. Juniper to calm yourself too, being as you are so far in your pregnancy. I fear I have caused too much upset, juniper may help. Ravae, may know where it is kept, if there are any stores left.”

Despite the distaste and physical struggle for the male to name the new Shaman he had managed to nonetheless respectably, owing a more neutral shift in her expression to slip as he additionally shared his own knowledge of useful herbs courtesy of his mate, Salacia. She had felt the slightest bit of remorse for not mentioning the woman’s name during her snap at the male, though preferred to keep the names of the deceased out of her mouth, especially if mentioned with ill intent. Such would be a Bad Omen resulting in nothing but bad blood with the deceased in the afterlife.

As the male began to dismiss himself she’d raise a brow and cock her skull slightly, she hadn’t expected the male to distance himself so much, though perhaps it was rather late and with all the events of the night fatigue had finally hit. She watched as the male looked back at her before bidding her a goodnight and making his way back to his home. Her wound had already begun to look and feel better after a thorough rinse therefore she would return for one more douse before returning to the main camp once more.

Upon her arrival the commanding vocals of Catori fell upon her ears. The female would study the remaining frames of family, some teary eyed others sniffling or holding back emotions likely to be released upon their arrival back home. The femme would dip her skull intently listening to the orders being dished out. Her gaze would fall upon the Stand-In Chief and cautiously danced toward the direction of Cornaith making the connection that it was his paint upon her neck and shoulders. A small smirk spilled across her face. They were a rather befitting pair, perhaps more than him and Clisteoeska, though she was very well aware of the males inability to promise himself to just one female. Such an inability and preference would likely render the male unmated for the entirety of his life, unless… the two females that peaked his current interest were also equally as interested in each other. Her brows would raise slightly to reveal a mask of surprise though quickly returned to a more neutral expression as she was clearly getting ahead of herself. That would be an interesting pairing of sorts. His offspring, from either or both females would likely be incredibly strong considering the females own abilities. A small hum would escape her as she considered such a situation being reversed.

Her gaze would shift in search for Ivan, however froze upon a snowy haired male. For a moment, she'd become utterly still. "Samblar?" She'd question silently in her mind, stepping forward in the individuals direction until she caught a glimpse of his black sclerosed icy pools. Her trance had immediately snapped. Regaining her thoughts, she would intently await to see who Elariel selected to scout alongside him in the morning, knowing full well she could return to her home and do as much as the triplets would allow her to the next day. However, the events of the night left her craving for more intimacy. Her lilac pools fell upon Ivan once more, favorably, as she would gracefully make her way towards him allowing a warm smile to etch itself across her lips once more.

Kethryll'ia Iliyanbruen Lécuyer

Heir [ Apprentice ] | Male | Eighteen | Mentions : Ivan Esen, Other Apprentices ( directly ) & Akith’ki . Cyrus , The Elders , Catori , Clisteœska & Cornaith ( indirectly )

The young heir wasn't pleased by the turn of events of the night ; he was properly nursing a headache and then he got ditched after his dance. Not to mention a mild fight broke out and now it seemed there was even more drama going on - he gave an exhausted sigh, he drank too much ale. What made him think that would be a good idea, huffing - he massaged his temples in hopes of giving himself some relief. And he pondered over the events of the night ; he really didn't approve of Ravae being the next Shaman, she didn't have the needed finesse or skill for it ( even if she was a Gatherer ) it should've been Althaea, she was well versed in medicine and herbology - hell, she had had managed to find a way to grow plants out of season just so they could have them for healing. Not to mention she was skilled with handling people, and if not the fact she was the daughter of the Great Shaman that was Valae, then no one would've have even questioned her training or skill to take the position. It also wasn't a secret that she aspired for it, after all what child wouldn't want to make their parent proud? Or follow in their footsteps ? He could see the disappointed look on her face , and how she looked about ready to cry, but she composed herself and managed to give congratulations even in her stressed state. He had to admire her fortitude for keeping herself calm, and not lashing out - unlike someone . And he turned a critical eye towards Cyrus, his nose flaring slightly but otherwise managing a neutral look on his face. He didn't have much to feel for the man ; but he could say he despised the way he treated Aktith'ki , it reminded him too much of his father - even if his meant well. The sly manipulation, harsh words , and icy treatment - it just hit far too close to home .

He then had to frown at the mention of Catori being in charge ; that was absolutely blasphemous. How could they put the former Lieutenant in charge , and not the oldest heir. Sure, his brother was immature at times but he would eventually prove himself to be a leader ; though one would have to pry that thought from his cold dead hands. It was an insult to their lineage, they were the heirs and not Catori. She should at least have been under him, because putting her in charge will undermine whatever future authority his brother hopes to assert, because the clan will have been looking to her for leadership for a while before his brother would assume his proper position. It was just poor logic, and this could spell disaster for his brother as a future Chief - because how would that look to his people, he was an adult , though not as old as others. The Elders should've at least thought of the prospect of giving him a council to aid him in leadership, rather than just completely withholding the title for who knows how long - and once someone has been in charge for a while , who can blame them if they're not willing to accept a new figure of power afterwards. And he looked to see Catori, and his gaze was very much disappointed in her current state, it seemed that their new Chieftess wasn't even holding herself with decorum and running around with someone , and at that, a man who had a woman on his hook - yet, the two were like fire and ice, polar opposites, yet their attraction was quite compelling. Their relationship was complicated, and could be plainly seen - he was just betting on when Clisteœska would finally have enough, because she was a lady who many would find themselves attracted to and would want to sweep off her feet - and yet, she let some pretty boy stomp and disrespect her heart - knowing he had it on a platter. It was just pathetic of him , no matter the excuses he held. He gave an amused grin at the interaction between Clisteœska and Catori, the latter looked like she wanted to strangle someone while the other was trying so hard to not be seen in that moment. How cute, she's trying to avoid the consequences of her actions.

How responsible of their new Chieftess, he thought to himself . The young male had a rare expression of annoyance on his face ; he wasn't one to display negative emotions often, maybe it was the liquor throwing him off his game . He was so enraptured by his thoughts, that he was caught off guard by Ivan's approach, and quickly winded back and prepared himself to punch the offender before realizing it was his brother. He wrinkled his nose in annoyance, he didn't need anyone fawning over him like he was some feeble little child . He could handle himself, but it was nice to know that his brother cared for him this much - and if anyone said that he was pouting, then he'd deny it. His brother was giving him a gift, and he watched in genuine confusion and intrigue as his brother fumbled around with what was supposed to be his gift. And he felt his heart swell at the sight, and he gingerly took the fabric. Rubbing it softly, he brought it to his chest - it smelled of old spices and sand - possibly his brother contributing to that scent. But his mother, he could smell the morning dew and must lingering, but the sweet and fruity underlying smell of jasmine had his heart beating faster. He felt tears threatening to fall, and he wasn't one to cry easily - he had mixed emotions when it come to their mom, he hated her for leaving them after their father's sacrifice - but he loved and missed her every second afterwards. The cloth reminded him of a cloak, and so he draped it that way, and using a golden clasp, made it fit. That way he could keep it and never lose it.

" Thank you, brother . " he said rather formally, his kind tone genuine, and a smile on his face as he absentmindedly rubbed the fabric . He would make his family proud and carry their legacy with honor. " They should've made you Chief, with Catori as your aid - it's disrespectful to you. " he told his brother bluntly , " and she's not even carrying herself with dignity her new role expects . " he said with a mild annoyance and distaste in his voice as he glared in her general vicinity. " But she will have to do for now, the Elder's have chosen her for a reason ; but you would've done much better. " he said with a slight begrudging tone, " even if you are a bit immature " he said, rather casually, teasing his older brother a bit. He doesn't know why, but poking fun at his big brother was quite fun. Especially, when it was getting revenge for something stupid that Ivan said . He gave a small hmph, and an offended gasp at his brother's statement. How dare he make such an accusation !

His cheeks did not grow warm , nor did they turn red at the mention of Aktith'ki - that was normal . " I have the faintest idea of what you're talking about ; that ale must've gotten to your head because I don't know this song you speak of - and besides Aktith'ki is nothing like his father , he's much better - a bit misguided but better . " he rambled, crossing his arms and huffing, his face growing redder by the second before coming up with a rebuttal, " and you, you might want to make a move on your girl before she gets snatched up by that old badger then. You were following her around like a lost puppy tonight, you should really do something about that . " and he said mocking his brother back, a slight arrogance in his tone as he flashed his teeth tauntingly, before sticking his tongue out teasingly. He nearly stumbled when pushed and gave a hiss of annoyance at his brother.

" If you ruin this cloak, I'll end you. " he said with a deadpanned tone of voice, his eyes locked on his brother seriously for moment. " thank you, I'll make our family proud." And for a moment he stood there , quite unsure what to do. He was expecting his mother and father to be the ones sending him off, not just his brother. And so, he ran over to his brother and gave him a hug . " You only get one of these for free, next time you have to pay." He says jokingly before he released his brother from his hug. He then gave a slight and turning his back to his brother as he started walking away . He had to catch up with the other apprentices before he got left behind. That would be truly embarrassing.

And that reminded him, he had nearly left his gift for Aktith'ki at the table, he gave a slight groan. And so rushing past his brother , he went to the table he had found himself sitting at, and grabbed the small wrapped item that was still there before scurrying off to catch up with the others. And in doing so, his cheeks were flushed and hair unruly as he approached the group. His cloak billowing as he came near them. He could hear bits and pieces of conversation from the apprentices and he felt him slip his mask of neutralness upon him. They were discussing going ahead and moving , while also using mud as protection against the sun - he agreed with both parts of this plan. It was risky to do such a thing though, especially since they didn't have any water skins - they should at least have some, just in preparation. Or find a way to make them.

" In agreement with the plan ; I would also suggest we find some sort of eye and mouth protection, because we might come upon a desert windstorm and we will need that to keep debris from our face, " he said, and then he scrunched his face before looking out into the desert landscape, " if we travel during day, we will to make a priority of finding some wild beast and tanning its hide to make waterskins after all we don't want to dehydrate and we're going into a desert ; and it would also be treacherous to travel at night considering temperatures in deserts can get to nearly freezing due to the sand not being able to hold the heat . " he said, at this rate he was mumbling to himself . He then blinked and realized he was muttering, a sheepish expression crossed his face before saying, "Sorry, Mother always told the story of her trial, and the cold desert nights . " he said a bit absentmindedly and a slight uncommon gloominess carrying in his tone. But he quickly snapped back before walking over to Aktith'ki .

" Hey Aktith'ki , " he said a bit more awkwardly than he liked, " I noticed , that you've been using the same dagger for a while , and I'm not sure if it holds any sentimental value, but it's quite aged and I think you could use something better. I've been meaning to give this to you for a while ; but I've never been able to catch you, so I'm giving it to you now before I forget to do it. And here I am rambling again, forgive me if am being presumptuous and rude - I just wanted to you have something nice . " the young male said, and he handed Aktith'ki his gift, before quickly turning his face around, which was totally not slightly red. It was definitely still flushed from the running and radiating heat of the desert.

" Anyone else have suggestions ? " he said referring to the group, as to how they would tackle this task. He looked over at Esen, as she was holding the map. Well, this journey was either gonna be one hell of a story or one big fat tragedy. He hoped for the first option .

Ravae Quintana || Female || 123 || Shaman-Gatherer || M: Cyrus, Elariel, Zinniah (Ind), Valae (Ind), Ula (Ind)

Ravae watches closely as Cyrus looks over at her, his eyes sharp and cutting. A hand comes up to rub her other arm uncomfortably as he does. Her own eyes flicker towards his wound, noticing how he tried to cover his scratch. Perhaps to apply pressure? She was sure she heard of that being useful before. Still, it prevented her from doing any possible assessment. Not that she would have known anything to begin with, but it would have at least been a start. Though, maybe he would give her some guidance on what to bring her? What herbs to gather for him and instructions on how to apply them? Anything so long as it helped him and taught her.

But none of that came. Instead what she got was a stern refusal of her aid, and a knock at her newly appointed position. It was true what he said of her being an inadequate healer. She knew little of the profession herself, being much more content working in the field where she could mostly as she pleased (so long as she got the job done of course). She listened to little of what the old shaman ever tried to discuss, only bothering to ask questions of the stranger and, especially, rarer herbs gathered. Otherwise, she harnessed little knowledge including the basics. But that didn’t make the words any less .

Taking a step back, she looks to the ground as he continues – his words, in particular his accusations, piercing her heart like an arrow to a buck’s chest. Is that all he thought of her? A little pawn to replace his beloved? A worthless elf in comparison to anyone else in the clan? Still his words held truth to them, to some extent. It was just… one thing to think it of herself but a whole other to hear it come so scornfully from another.

She stumbles over a response under the contentious pressure, a pang coursing through her as she immediately proved one of his points. His harsh stare wasn’t helping either, infecting her with nervousness as though it were some disease.

“N-n-no, I-”

“Shaman Ravae, congratulations,” a voice sounds from beside her, cutting off her incoherent ramblings. A small frown forms on her face because of the title’s usage, lessening most of the shock she was bound to experience. Her head turns to look towards the speaker, spying an impeccably tall figure – at least compared to herself. Elariel, she believed his name was. He offered her a nod and a (is that a strained?) grin towards the much smaller gatherer, he offers his blessings for prosperity in her new role.

It was a welcomed introduction, really, despite the usage of new and “proper” denomination. An ease to her soon-to-be overflowing anxiety. Though, him turning to square up with Cyrus was not what she had been expecting. Her second small “um” of the night leaves her as the vivid eyed warrior scolds the wounded one for his somewhat irrational reaction to an offer for aid – another batch of nerves igniting within her. She really did not wish to be the center of any argument or debate the two had. Even if it was due to one being so kind as to come to her defense.

Eleariel’s points were logical and precise, pointing out the possible flaws in his fellow warrior’s view on the whole thing. Most of it she could understand… to an extent. The role had been vacant for some time so it was only natural for it to be filled sooner rather than later. Still, Ravae couldn’t help but feel bad for the black haired man. Losing a wife only to have her role be placed upon the shoulders of another, unprepared individual. She couldn’t imagine what he must be feeling now.

A flinch comes from the young lass at the mention of Eleariel’s mate, his apologetic expression being taken note of but doing little to soften his words. Ah, she forgot about the older gatherer. Althaea, was it? She believed there was some connection between her and Zinniah, but that was as much as she knew of her. Between the two rarely interacting and her having become a queen as of late, she had forgotten about that potential option for shaman. The violet eyed elf seemed to be well versed with herbal knowledge, having worked in the field for much longer than the blonde haired girl herself. Still, the simple fact of her presently being a queen may have prevented any such notion. Maybe she was the initial choice, but was decided against due to this soon-to-be development? Her mind would likely be elsewhere soon, swaying it away from her new line of work not that Ravae would be any better in that department that is.

It didn’t take long for the gatherer shaman to become completely lost to the conversation before her, with Cyrus continuing his pessimistic outlook on the whole situation and Eleariel attempting to weaken its grasp on his mind. Little room was left for her to interject anything of merit, the silence being filled by the two men in front of her. At any point where she tries to engage in the conversation, her voice is drowned out by one of the others. An easy feat given her soft voice. It was honestly probable that neither had heard her to begin with before speaking themselves.

A call from the elders seemed to break up whatever dialogue the two had left in the tank. It was the announcement for the start of the trials, calling all the apprentices to make their way towards Ula and Valae themselves. Taking the chance the newly appointed shaman excuses herself – offering a “sorry for bothering you tonight” to Cyrus before walking off. She makes her way through the lingering members of the crowd, attempting to spy her main companion within the clan. However, when she does spy her, she finds the huntress speaking to one of the apprentices – likely offering her well wishes before he heads out to begin his adventure with the others. It would be best not to disturb her for now.

Walking off to some corner of the clearing, she turns to watch the apprentices and elders leave the safety of the tribe’s confinement – her ears pinned back as a worried expression crosses her face as each passing one disappears into the brush. Though none shared her blood (no one in the tribe did anymore), she still fretted for them. Oh, how they hoped they’d all be alright. For their sake and the clan’s.

Cornaith Iliven

"Thank you Cornaith. I swear I'll make you proud."

The words that spilled from his half-brother's mouth had caught the male slightly off guard, his expression did not dare falter as they rested on the young male. Naith never held any sort of expectation of his sibling other than being willing enough to let him be a part of his life, for which he is forever grateful. Baiyen had done enough to make him proud by merely existing was enough. Though, he supposed having taken the place of their father now, it was something he could look forward to if he were to ever bear children of his own, bearing a fatherly pride for his offspring. He, if anything owed the man before him a similar sentiment. With a majority of the tribe utterly despising him for his inability to settle down, he was surprised that anyone would wish to be honored by himself. As he witnessed the teen struggle for a moment to decide whether to scamper off into the woods with the rest of the apprentices, Naith would once more be pleasantly surprised with the lunging embrace of his blonde haired half-sibling. He held on as tightly as Baiyen’s body would allow, closing his eyes and accepting this precious moment between brothers. His ears would twitch as he picked up on the slightest words to spill from Baiyen’s mouth.

"He was wrong to not love you too, Naith."

His pale pools would fly open and for a moment as their embrace had come to an end he would allow his facial expression to slip slightly revealing his mild astonishment. As Baiyen dipped his skull and raced off after the lot of teens Naith had stood where he was watching him until the very last ounce of light evaded the depths of the forest. Perhaps Baiyen was right, though, nothing would really change the past, especially now. He admittedly could care less about their father and perhaps the abandonment of his father was the reason why Naith could tolerate all the hate he garnered from members of the tribe. He cared less of their opinions of him and merely focused on his work, whilst attempting to juggle his affairs. At the thought of said affairs his gaze would fall upon Clisteoeska. She had been glaring threats toward someone, his gaze would follow hers and find them burning upon Catori. He’d emit a gruff grunt lifting his upper right lip in response with utter disapproval and distaste, a single elongated canine exposing itself as a light growl would rumble within his chest. For the duration that he and Cliste had spent together he hadn’t taken her as someone who could easily be made jealous, while territorial over him yes she’d never revealed any particular spite toward any of the other females that vyed for his fancy, to find her seething towards Catori had drawn out a more protective side of Naith, he didn’t even know he had.

He’d frown at the female utterly displeased as Catori now spoke before the entire clan. Awaiting Elariel’s selection for tomorrow’s patrol he’d find the lingering gaze of Alvaerelle falling upon him. His expression had been one of annoyance, though it quickly reeled itself to one of neutrality having bore witness to only one possibility of this particular queen’s anger. He’d keep his distance from that one, even well after she bears her triplets.

While he awaited Elariel’s selection, his gaze would now burn against Clisteoeska. He’d be stupid not to anticipate some sort of fire this evening from her, after his presumed romp with Catori. Though, were she to take it out somehow on Catori, he’d make sure she knew where she fell with him when it came between the stand-in chief and herself.

“I will need more than pretty words to convince me you’re worthy… If you desire an outcome akin to that of Elariel and his mate, then I will need to be courted extravagantly.”

Catori’s blissful vocals echoed in his head. He sensed her hesitation early-on in their interaction and had vied that there was nothing of significance between himself and Cliste, though their own situationship was utterly more than complex and complicated for either of them to dish out. Admittedly, he loved Cliste. Her fiery temper suited her and her swordsmanship had been what had intrigued him the most upon their first spar. She was beyond stunning, knowing exactly what attire suited her luxurious frame and yet upon making it clear that he could never promise himself solely to her she claimed to have understood. To have utterly understood his inability and being one of the few people to know of how his last relationship tragically ended. The result of his previous relationship would only further complicate the desire to actually settle down, seeing how costly its effects could be when not upheld to the standards of which his partner would desire.

He’d have to talk to Cliste regardless and determine what her desired outcome of this relationship, or whatever it would be considered, is. He owed it to Catori to be a man of his word and owed it more to Cliste to not live up to the rumored beliefs of the tribe or disappoint her anymore than he likely already has.