my liege come see my hog

Manon, exploring endlessly and coming to anyone she saw her sights on. Asking any how they were doing, and what they were doing — and ah! She saw something in the distance. The smell of boars was on the horizon but oh-so stale, a path that nearly disappeared if not for a.. What looked to be a caracass.

But it was not that same boar-king from so-long ago, just a stray in the midst. Fallen and a half-eaten carcass from the peckings of birds, not fresh and rotten to the stench. Oh my! She wouldn't touch that shit— that mess... But it meant something else! And off she went to report.

"My King! I had found the remnants of a boar, perhaps that means boars live in these mountains!"

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Percival had been sitting on the ledge of one of the mountain curves. His eyes began to close, peace encompassing him until...—

The sound of Manon's voice cut through the air. Startled, he looked up, eyes widened. He thought she would've been hurt, bleeding to death maybe— but no. She simply rambled on about boars. Fine, he would take her up on that. The King stood to his limbs, giving them a quick stretch, before sauntering over to his...halfkin. 

"Aigh, aigh. Let's go for a stroll then, shall we?" He wouldn't ask for approval, simply brushing past her. He set the gait slow, his walk elegant.

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"It's quite unsightly, I must warn." To the most precious lord! Even the ladies would not enjoy such a feat, but would it not be a good show? Mostly the size of the bare beast, but picked apart it had it's spines sticking out. Quite a descriptive scene, she would say, leading him to the disaster that was upon their very borders. Couldn't say whether natural death or a fight, but ah ; it's whatever.

"You see, My King? Surely that must mean boars linger in our mountains. Perhaps the lowbloods can hunt for a feast on this blessed day!" Praise the Gods, for in truth ; Manon was a bit lazy in that factor and would be more then happy to let others hunt for her. Though maybe, just maybe, enjoyed the bird-parts. Less messy.

But wouldn't that be an adoration to see the hard-working low-bloods bring home such a nice lunch? Manon wondered what other prey though were around.. Rams, perhaps?

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"I'm prepared, Manon. Don't fret." Was he really, though? Yes, he was. Percival was the best out of all the Highbloods when it came to gore. His father trained him well for his Kingship. 

To his surprise, Manon had been right. A boar laid dead, ripped apart at the border of what they claimed to be theirs. How intriguing. "My, my, Manon. Excellent findings." Percival's tone was bland— but it was always like that. He didn't display nearly as much as she did. 

"We should see what else lingers here. I know Arwyn has a much more complex palette than I." He'd beckon them to climb up the mountainside, perhaps looking for lingering goats or deer.

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"I never tell lies, sire!" Manon was perhaps all-around and everywhere it was, and telling all she heard — but they were not her lies if they were! All that was mentioned and said were by the wind and shared ; maybe not one to keep secrets but that not very important at the moment. It's far more fun to converse oh the so-and-so.

"Surely we should have ram," Manon nodded, lightly sniffing the ground for any indication of them, but at the moment.. Only them, and the boar. The other cousin with the oh-so difficulties, but she was a charmer in every way. It didn't matter who the snow-blushed girl was with, she always looked like an enchantment of a woman. Surely she'd be with the High King if not for Lunafreya.. So many choices — wasn't it just easier for everyone to get together?

Was she in the equation? Oh my, Manon was blushing thinking about that, within her own lil world, "perhaps the rams are too in love to come out."

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That little comment of self-proclaimed enthusiasm made him chuckle lightly. Breathy and airy. "I don't doubt that." Manon wouldn't have a lying bone in her body. Which was good he supposed, but he wouldn't say the same about himself. 

Manon's nose stuck to the ground as she searched, muttering soft things that Percival couldn't make out. He'd simply shake his head and follow her with measured steps, making sure that he didn't get in her way. When no rams appeared, she said the oddest of things. 

"You think so?" Percival would raise a brow towards her, lip curling playfully. "I think they may be afraid of you."

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"You think so?" when she sniffed the air once more, it was quite clear none was nearby — what a shame if her love for life and family itself drove them away, "or, they're hiding! Much of our family arrived, our scents are surely overwhelming." It wouldn't be a surprise of loners and other packs to venture to ; but Manon was quite curious to know of the other possible packs that laid so.. It couldn't be denied she could smell loners and pack-wolves in other regions.

"But look at our quick are borders are being well-made. Perhaps the low-bloods could join such a feast!" Blasphemery, says Manon, but, "they'd appreciate the leftovers," but not just quite there. Teetering on the edge of both insulting and loving.

But the smell of them was coming high and close, and didn't she just arrive? Thick of Highvallians.. Not that'd she help, that was unlady-like. To pee, and mark? Undignified! But she'll respect others doing it.

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At the comments of Lowbloods, Percival's head swiveled. He'd eye Manon curiously, narrowing them to slits. "Be wary of the Lowbloods, Manon." He'd warn her lightly. "They deserve nothing from you." 

Percival would take the reigns, leading her back into the thicker edge of the territory. It would be quite the climb to reach the inside of the Valley. "Come, we'll feast on one of these boar." Percival would take a carcass in his mouth, an oddity, but he hadn't had Callenwolde to do it for him. 

So back to their territory they went. Percival rubbed his back on each tree he could find, leaving his scent prominent.

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"Oh cousin, of course so! And yet to stay loyal and pamper, to feed a dog a bone so often. How else would we know of their immoral and fantasies!" A warning that was left-off with but another toy to the bail, as Manon had no indication to cease her continuation of interacting with so — kindness can go so far, and know far more then scorning them so. A bore.

"Would it not be better to call for them? To use the new recruits legs." Manon could smell them, upon the borders was unfamilarity not of family scents. Low-bloods through and through, but she yet to know of their colors.

Slaves, or soon to be blessed?

And then her mind went elsewhere, "my! that tree you just marked has a bird in it!"

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