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He kept fancying that Ivan was absorbed in something — something inward and important — that he was striving toward some goal, perhaps very hard to attain.

Ivan had been born into a nice family life, with a stable home and very alive parents. He grew up comfortable, it was only until his mind began to awaken and he suffered only by virtue of himself. He was the only cause of it, which was quite strange. His incredibly sharpened and mature mind forced him to skip a lot of his childhood. He was only three months now and the world felt heavy on his shoulders. Someone had to crusade against the ethics of some of the scientifically-inclined members of Tanglewood.

It was also rare for him to be out and about, but when he was, he usually had a lot of interesting experiences. It was enough to have two or three big events in a week, but after that he'd really need time to himself. So that was why Ivan had taken to patrolling and exploring the territory, constantly looking over his shoulder to make sure Aurum wasn't there. Hmpf. Adults. His slender form moved throughout the forest like a shadow, guided by his nose rather than his eyes.

And he certainly scented something out of the blue. Or perhaps, someone. Deciding it was worth taking a detour, Ivan followed it. He came to the edge of a field, ears pricked. The only sign of life out there was a young female fox, who smelled very similar to one he had recently seen on the border. Pitt. He didn't know the history behind the Pitt or Jervis' execution, nobody elected to tell him about it yet. But Ivan was usually gruff toward foreigners.

He dashed up a tree and leapt from branch to branch, finally coming to a stop on the tree that Mercede was sitting under. He leaned forward and dipped his head below the branch, his tiny claws gripping for dear life. "Hey! What're you doing here?"

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He kept fancying that Ivan was absorbed in something — something inward and important — that he was striving toward some goal, perhaps very hard to attain.

    Almost immediately, a bashful expression overtook Ivan's face. He was normally stand-offish and turbulent toward male foreigners; Tanglewood itself was pretty much a sausage fest. He did remember Sweeney coming here but that was a bit different. Ivan had little female influence in his life. Of course, he had his mother, but he also grew up with four brothers and one sister that he hardly got to see because she was sick. For all his mysterious genius, yes, Mercede was right: Ivan did not know how to act around a lady.

    Flushing furiously, all he could say was "My name is not Tom. It's Ivan. Ivan!", slowly and deliberately drawing out the Slavic accented name. "Ivan Roux."

    The young black cat continued to cling to his branch, lashing his tail out for balance. "It's not yours either!" He shot back. Ivan was positive that could physically feel his brain cells leaving his body as he continued to childishly deal with this fox.

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[div style="width: 300px; max-height: 100px; height: overflow; overflow: scroll; padding-bottom: 5px; margin-top: -5px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 8pt; color: #152232; letter-spacing: 0px; text-align: justify;"]He kept fancying that Ivan was absorbed in something — something inward and important — that he was striving toward some goal, perhaps very hard to attain.

Attention-seeking was something Ivan was guilty of. For all his aloofness, he craved to be praised. He figured it was normal, that pride was a necessary evil to character. However, he had little idea that he was feeding into her love for attention. But even if he had known, would he had stopped? It'd be difficult to tell, because Ivan's rationality was tugging at him to go away. He closed his eyes. Any moment now Aurum should show up, he always did — but there was nothing.

Her British-accented introduction caused a singular eye to open once more. He had no idea of the weight behind her surname. Perhaps being raised by a pair of medics had stunted his admiration for politics. He noticed her change of demeanor when she repeated his last name.

Ivan was extremely frustrated to know he was related to nearly everyone. All he cared about was his nuclear family. He disliked the rude Typhoon kids who came to their border, despite them having the same surname. "Like you'd know." He scoffed. "You're just a fo —" His speech was cut off by a yelp as he lost his grip and tumbled to the ground in front of Mercede. He manages to land on all four paws but he stumbled on impact, his large ears laying flat against his skull. "Go away. You have a family, don't you?" He muttered in the dirt.

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[div style="width: 300px; max-height: 100px; height: overflow; overflow: scroll; padding-bottom: 5px; margin-top: -5px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 8pt; color: #152232; letter-spacing: 0px; text-align: justify;"]He kept fancying that Ivan was absorbed in something — something inward and important — that he was striving toward some goal, perhaps very hard to attain.

Ignorance was bliss, certainly. Though he did not worry about the politics happening between Clans — he was also born during a period of peace — he had other things to mull about, things that had become more apparent when he spoke with Caustic. He was concerned with the order of the world. Allegiances were necessary, perhaps, but rather insignificant in Ivan's view. Of course, that proved to poke a hole in Ivan's opinions, because he naturally didn't like strangers.

Mercede had been different in that she drew his attention to something he hadn't considered — his lack of respect around females due to the sort of environment he was raised in. Like the fox, he didn't want to leave. It would display his defeat. Ivan was a scrawny little thing, but he was proud. He perceived an abrupt change of attitude that left him feeling similarly uncomfortable. He blinked twice and averted his gaze.

You only asked that to be mean. She claimed. Ivan stiffened. He had hurt a nerve, one he was unaware of. He sat up hastily and shuffled his paws in the dirt. He stared after her as she rounded the tree. "I'm sorry." The young cat offered, taking a step forward. "I don't ... know the history behind my name." It felt painfully stupid to expose himself like that, but he wasn't motivated by a surname. It was the least of his worries. "It doesn't mean much. I'm an individual. I carve out my own legacy." Granted, he hadn't made the brightest first impression, but he was rightfully stunned by her.

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[div style="width: 300px; max-height: 100px; height: overflow; overflow: scroll; padding-bottom: 5px; margin-top: -5px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 8pt; color: #152232; letter-spacing: 0px; text-align: justify;"]He kept fancying that Ivan was absorbed in something — something inward and important — that he was striving toward some goal, perhaps very hard to attain.

This encounter was full of surprises. Tensions rose and settled like the sun. Empathy was perhaps something he learned well from his childhood, growing up with a sister less fortunate than himself. He usually spoke with people to get different viewpoints, not to entertain them. This was different. Ivan danced around the trap he sensed being set out, and he had the strange inclination to place his paw on the spring to entertain it, just this once. Even if it hurt him.

He had been running in circles since he could remember, chasing the truth of life that philosophers bickered about for centuries in the old library in the center of Tanglewood. His restlessness could not be satisfied, but if he could find an antidote for it, something fiery and thrilling, maybe he could forget about it.

As Mercede launched into her explanation, it only gave Ivan more pieces of the puzzle he was trying to solve. And not even of the history behind Jervis — he would have nothing to do with what seemed, in his eyes, to be a war criminal. No, it all circled back to his righteous fury over suffering. Why did his sister Alice had to drag herself around because of a malformed leg? What did she do? She hadn't even been born yet! Mercede, as he was now figuring out, had become an orphan because of whatever her father had done.

He didn't want to say sorry again, but that was the only sentence pulling up in his mind for a response. Emitting a harsh sigh he finally said, "You didn't deserve to see that. I don't think so, at least. At least you have your sisters." Mercede didn't. Perhaps Jervis did. He really needed to brush up on his politics, didn't he? Ivan paused. "So, will you spare my life when you come for the Roux family and make a kingdom of your own?"