Wanderlust. noun.

As sure as the sun rises in the east, the young prince let the wind guide him.  His younger sister boasted of her navigation skills oft (he didn't doubt her) but he cared little whether or not he grew lost.  He'd only be lost in the daytime, then retraced the steps home with help from above.  The destination lacked purpose (he never set one in the first place).  The journey carried everything.

When Torren decided he'd walked far enough for the time, he found a place to rest.  The Scottish wildcat set his eyes on a swamp, dancing like a lit candle, intrigued but held in place.  A simple inhale through his nose told him taking too many steps forward meant offense.  An invisible line he declined to cross haphazardly.

Undeterred, he took a seat.  A thick, striped tail curled neatly over his paws.  Sharp ears perked attentively, cautious for the sound of someone, anyone, approaching.  If the owners who set the boundary were friendly perhaps he'd found a place to stay.  At least until the lull of the journey called again.

© MADI

A prince. Although Wormwood didn't know of this male's status yet, he had an intimate understanding of what such a title met. Both he and Poetking did, really, both being the 'princes' of their own lion pride. Being a prince meant responsibility, and people looking up to you, and a future that was practically predetermined, with no change in any way. However, Poetking had actually changed both of their fates. After he had become the true king of their pride, and had been run out, he had decided to change both his own.and Worm's fate by coming here, to Tanglewood.

However, it seemed like this prince didn't have as much responsibility as Wormwood had been preparing for, given that he was just wandering around, and now had arrived at the swamp border. The large lion had been out on a hunting trip when he caught the unfamiliar scent of the Scottish wildcat, and he had perked up in curiosity, moving slowly over to where Torren was sitting. When he saw the small male, he felt a bit of curiosity over if the male was a new joiner, or some sort of an ally come to talk to them, since he didn't seem to be feel, hostile, or overly confused. Twitching his tail behind him, Worm rumbled a soft greeting to the undoubtedly younger prince, [glow=#793B29,1,400]"Hello there. I'm assuming since you're just sitting there you noticed the border... could I know who you are, and why you're here at Tanglewood?"[/glow]

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━ [b]MY SKIN IS A STORY┆LONELY. CLINGY. HATEFUL. ━

Lacuna. n.

When Torren thought of his title, rank, and the family he came from he may smile.  A small, amused, sentimental, sad, smile.  His parents still reigned strong over the land he came from, even encouraging his (and more importantly his sister's) wandering.  Perhaps they desired they gain something on the way; an understanding of the world brought by experiencing it themselves.

He accepted the opportunity with gratitude and curiosity, though home called him often.  Responsibility kept him prepared to return on a word's notice (his sister seemed less inclined after all).  Until such a day called, he intended to see the world at his parent's request, though he missed them and his younger, even more adventurous sister.  The latter certainly kept him on his toes, wherever she wandered off to.

Focused on the present, Torren smiled at the lion.  The polite, regal sort of smile he offered nearly everyone he met.  He never forgot manners, especially when he knew he stood close to someone else's home.  "You may," he offered, inclining his head.  "My name is Torren Winther and I am seeking a place to stay."

As others arrived on scene, he repeated the posture; smile and polite dipping of his head.  "Hey," the informality of the greeting felt almost humorous.  The wildcat decided he did not mind.  The first one he spoke to seemed more formal than the both of them, but he expected to encounter such.  Idly, he wondered if he'd have to look up at everyone (he'd be twice the size of a domestic cat one day, but that seemed nothing here so far).

© MADI

Wormwood looked up when he felt Red's gentle touch to his shoulder, and he nodded with a soft mumble, his ears twitching a bit, [glow=#793B29,1,400]"Yeah. Little guy, too."[/glow] He said this softly, not wanting to offend Torren if he really was joining the group. It was just.... Torren was obviously younger and much smaller than the rest of them, so "little" was one of the only adjectives Worm could really think of, besides polite. This kid was... surprisingly polite. He supposed that it would've been obvious that it reminded Wormwood of when he was just a small cub. He had been taught – unfortunately forcibly – by his parents, to be polite and rigid in every little interaction he had with others, to make sure that he was upholding their noble legacy. Remembering this made his heart ache, and he very much hoped that this child had not been taught any of his dignity and grace in a cruel way. Enough of the people here had trauma and parental issues, hopefully this kid would be a sort of ray of hope compared to all of them.

Returning the head dip to Torren, Wormwood rumbled firmly to the small feline as he playfully flicked him on the head with his fluffy ended tail, [glow=#793B29,1,400]"If you're seeking a place to stay, then you've arrived at the right border. This is Tanglewood, like I said. My name is Wormwood, and I'll be happy to show you around if you want. Or any one of us could, really. The swamp gets hard to navigate, and you'll need to find a home for yourself in town."[/glow] He remembered grimly just how much wandering around he had needed to do to finally get a semi-firm hold on what the hell the swamp was laid out like. This, of course, wasn't really anybody in the group's fault, but rather a consequence of living in the middle of a very same looking and wet swamp that could lead to you walking around in circles if you didn't mark your path. He could've let Torren try to figure things out on his own, but he was just a kid – no matter how mature he acted – and Wormwood didn't want him to potentially get hurt.

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━ [b]MY SKIN IS A STORY┆LONELY. CLINGY. HATEFUL. ━

Home. n.

If Torren possessed the liking of a child, he failed to see it himself.  Still a youth certainly, with many moons to go before he could claim adulthood.  The immortal blood that ran through his veins made more than sure of that.  That blood may be the specific reason he seemed odd for a 'child', his true age much older (he certainly didn't believe age necessarily meant wisdom, but in this case, it meant he had more than expected).

The brown eyes he carried flashed to the hyena, once again undeterred by her strange laughs.  Truthfully he speaking, she may unnerve him, just the fraction.  Not enough for it to show on the prince's face.  Perhaps the unfamiliarity of her species in general made him the most wary.  No hyenas lived where he came from -- he doubted they'd like it much.  He preferred the open spaces he'd found outside of his home's borders personally, where he felt the wind run through his fur and could watch the stars above.

The voice of his sister rears its annoying voice in his head, a snarky answer to the simple question (from my mother, Torren).  His whiskers almost twitch.  Torren decides to tilt his head, catching the angle of the sun before raising a paw and pointing north-east.  "Far, far that way, I believe." Don't take my word on it.  I might be off.  "It's easier by the stars," he admitted, furrowing his brow.  "I have a mediocre sense of direction, I'm afraid."

"It's a small nation, sitting mostly under the mountains." The vast tunnel networks took moons to master, but he swore he knew them all by heart (he had friends and family who certainly did).  "The nation is called Morven.  I believe that's an old word meaning mountain, actually."  He shrugged, a smooth movement of his shoulders.  He hardly wanted to bore anyone with linguistics.  "My parents remain there, though my sister and I have wandered -- my family believes it's important to see the world, which led me here."

"Thank you again," he added warmly to everyone.  "I appreciate your hospitality greatly."

© MADI