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Always, children. Larkspur had seen more children in his time within Dahlia de Mai then ever before. Of course, some were more worthy of his time then others. The boy was learning, and doing his best to make his uncle proud. This was acceptable—and useful. In time perhaps he would make something of his frail relative. Eris had been arrogant, but not without purpose. He had seen a false magic in her and sought it out. King, in contrast, had potential; such potential. Strong and smart, every bit his father’s son. Perhaps in him there would be that second darkness, if given the chance to grow. Perhaps this was something that he would need to ask.
Once again, there was a child. It was a girl, sitting on the borders of his land and looking as if she knew where she was. The white dusted man advanced at a trot, four legs carrying him easily towards the smaller girl. She was young, almost done growing. He came to a halt not far from her form, eyeing the she-wolf as he would an unfamiliar dog. “Y’need something?” The Wahrer asked, his eyes not breaking from her face.
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