1/27/2025, 8:11 PM
Takala asked about his pack, her ears swiveling forward and a keen glint in her eye. Francis couldn't put his finger - or, paw, some things he never got used to - on the nature of her interest, but the question was harmless and he was glad to answer. His tail swayed near his hocks, light and breezy.
The Meraki Concord. Our borders are that-a-way, not more than an hour or two if you know the path well. The sheep is from one of the small flocks that hang around the territory, but this one wandered off.His ear twitched, betraying a small edge of annoyance with the creature's straying. He wasn't too truly miffed. It had been a good enough excuse to get out of the borders and resume exploring the moors - a task Francis took upon himself for much more than mere duty. He enjoyed new sights and scents, stretching his legs and sometimes, like now, encountering curious new faces.
Takala introduced herself, without a surname for Francis to defer to using out of politeness' sake. Takala it would be, then, although he was likely to still try to use Miss out of a habitual adherence to polite society's rigid structure, despite how far from that gilded realm he'd now grown. He was quite intrigued by the name itself, used to the elegance swoops and lilts of many French names, surrounded by his fellows from his world back at the Concord. Takala's staccato rhythm was a pleasant change of pace.
It was the Prince's turn to prick his ears in interest as Takala's attention turned to his surname, asking where he was from.
I am not of this world, originally. I was transported here, like most, if that's what you're asking. Before, though,and he wondered, but dared not hope, she would perhaps turn out to be another lost piece of the myriad of kingdoms and nobility that had made the tapestry of his old world,
I was the crown prince of the Imperium Aurum, if that's a familiar name to you.