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I'm not your baby,

As now the days would draw nearer.. She felt her wind wander to the sire of the litter ; though a man who will not be claimed as the father, nor' even the donor until an appropriate age. She felt it was appropriate to tell him that the deal was made, though the question to be, who was the devil in the situation? Two amongst the temperate woods, and neither being an appropriate victim.

"@"Flynn," she sought out the scout. Though he may not be the most appropriate ambassador, he knew of the Warlord, and with quick legs he would be so. Though if he rejected the deal, she knew to either send Remus.. Though days grew on that the Queen was disasstified by him, perhaps due to the embarrassment she had felt, but Célnes was reluctant to. Her next thought was to send Meissa, a showing of strength of sorts, but that wouldn't be as discreet.

Her cousin felt the best of choice, at the moment, "You will go to the Nighwalkers lair and send a message to Vengeance, the warlord. You remember him, yes?" she didn't skip a beat before he answered though, "all you need to pass is one sentence; 'the deal has been made.'"

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Sleep held him close, cradling him in the sweet memories of promises not yet made. He always had a funny habit of dreaming of the things he so-dearly longed for. Though oddly enough, as he woke to the sounds of yet another voice preaching his name, he had not a clue what his mind was telling him. “Mei...? ...Oh, apologies, my Queen.” He didn't have the time to think about it, either. His words, cracking with boyish temper, wouldn't change in pitch quickly enough to fully match the respect he held for his cousin, thus a shaky bow of the head would have to replace it.

Ears did flinch as he took in her request, her light conversation giving him enough time to clean himself up with a few stray licks and a good coat shake. He supposed tonight would be better than any to get the job done, but honestly, his tiredness kept him from fully understanding what she wanted until her last statement. It was then his eyes opened wide, noggin shaking dizzy thoughts out of the way.

“...So that's what it was.” A bet on children. “Are you pleased with the outcome?” He asked, though it was more of a question for himself than any other. “With all due respect, Cel,” And for the first time in ages had he addressed her as a relative, not his higher up. “You know I'll follow you regardless of my own emotions, I just... What exactly is the meaning of this? Is... Is it to forge a better alliance? To bring more members? Both? Neither?” What would happen if she had kids out of love one day? Or that their deal went haywire later on? How deep was this unspoken contract?

Perhaps he shouldn't be adding additional stress on her, but it was also she who had fueled it. “I'll see to it that it gets done.” Was all he should have said in the first place, though amusingly, it had come last.


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"Perhaps both, my dear cousin. What better outcome is that on a better suited alliance then blood relations, and us gaining more Deorwine members to Elkshire's land." It was unsurprising of someone of the family to be upset about her choices. Children out of wedlock were not well-liked for those of a blue-blooded nature, and if anything would take an arranged mate without love then to bare pups without a courtship.

"Blessed in looks, not in soul." Especially a man without unknown origins - though despite the boogeyman being an unsavory fellow, dirtied and mucky, the disgust of the charms of the opposite she had liked. Though - he was brown. He was an ideal of what a Deorwine would want in a partner, and not even Flynn would fight on that notion, though she will agree that he wasn't the.. Most ideal, but the most perfect one to choose from.

"Make haste cousin, or the boogeyman will get you." The Queen teased.

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He'd scoff, a small chuckle bubbling in his chest that he couldn't help but let slip through his teeth; not because he wanted to, but because he felt it was needed to sedate the mood. He loved his cousin, likely more than she realised, but he couldn't help but wonder if she loved herself. Though that... That was a thought he'd have to put on pause.

“I'll let you know as soon as possible how everything goes, I'm hoping for the best but preparing for the worst.” After all, it might have been a simple meeting, but he highly doubted the so-called 'boogeyman' would let the long-legged male trot back home empty-handed.

“Rest well, Your Highness.” He spoke gently, galloping off.


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The Queen held pride, she knew how to stand, and knew how she presented herself - someone of nobility, a red-blooded Déorwine ; and a queen to be. It was what she always wanted, wolves to be loyal to her, a comfort crown without a care, not needing to listen to the badgering elders who believe they know of best. She was in control, and neither was her bastardly father, nor' the High Elk themselves, but she. Célnes would do anything she could to continue achieving her goals, even to the point she had sacrificed the dreamful lunacy of 'love,' to sire her first born for that very reason.

It was truly hard to say if she loved herself - as all was sacrificed for the sake of power.

"Take care, cousin."

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