When the Archer prince had risen for his nightly walk, now more of a patrol now that he had begun to consider overtaking Willow Ridge with Hecate at his side, he felt something pull and tug at him. It called to him beyond his family's lands and compelled him to leave all thoughts of women and temptation behind. Head high and tail held aloft as he went, he wandered through the chilled winter mist with his heart thumping about in his chest. Usually, this sort of feeling led him into more exciting things: a half-eaten carcass, a dead bird, an invitation of chase provoked by a couple of chattering vixens...

However, the further he went into the Sacred Grove, the more disappointment began to creep up into the base of his skull. Frankly, he had been hoping to find that timber girl again; and, on the off chance, that he found her again, he was actually quite ready to slip on a mask and attempt to flirt with her once more. It would not be Hypatia that would find him tonight though.

Skoll had only been vaguely aware that he could have been followed but when her voice finally called to him by name through the haze, he stopped and blinked as if he had been awoken from a spell for the first time in centuries. At long last, a impish smile emerged on his white-furred lips and he walked in a half-circle to turn around and seek her out in the dark. She, unlike those he commonly met at this late hour, knew all too well that if she spoke of the devil, he would appear.

"Morganna," his usually weighted tone was ethereal as he cooed softly back to her. Clearly, he was amused. When he navigated to a place where her scent had grown thick, he scanned his immediate surroundings before he was able to pick out her own silhouette in the fog. His black crown ducked down and when he fully showed himself before her, two sharp, silver eyes stared back at her accompanied by a toothy grin as the mist unveiled his swarthy form.

As was customary, he should have crept just close enough to bring his nose to her chin but, tonight, he didn't. He merely stood there, a dark tower with two pointed spires before her to behold. To anyone else, he might have been intimidating and he might have let a growl rumble in his chest in greeting. But, this was no ordinary soul who summoned him - this was his queen - and, to her alone, did he offer an accomodating inquiry, "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

As anticipated, she was the one who closed the distance between them; and, as was typical, he let her have her greeting - that comforting touch of her nose to his chin. "I've missed you," she uttered to him and the prince felt all the tall walls he had built around himself come crumbling down. In all truth, she was perhaps the only one who had the key to his heart and, yet, he was the one who always willingly let her in without her having the need to knock or even fumble with the lock. He nuzzled the base of her ear with his nose then held still for as long as she remained there within his personal space. He was sure that he didn't even need to say it... That he had missed her too. WIth them, it was all but given.

With her tucked up to his chest and throat, Skoll was left to stare at the swirling mist behind her, his gaze eventually drifting off to the trees around them. His ears took turns rotating to one side and then the other in a slow but wary fashion. He swallowed and he felt her withdraw from him. Instantaneously, he focused on her, holding her gaze and patiently waiting for her next string of words. It had been so long since they had last had this sort of chat; all he could have wanted in this moment was to hear her voice, to be with her, and make certain that all was still well in her little nook within Relic Lore.

"No," he muttered under his breath in response to her question. "My youngest sister turned up dead." And, there was nothing I could have done. The corner of his lip, on the left side quivered, and he averted his gaze, forcing her to stare into the side of his face that was left scarred from Xetor's attack. Even his ears flipped back for the briefest of seconds. "As for tonight, I figured I would look for something--" someone... "-- to help occupy my mind, fill it with something other than wistful reveries."

Here, he turned his head to look at her cheek, realizing that she hadn't really answered his question. For Morganna to be with him meant something had happened or something was terribly wrong. He raised an eyebrow at her, his pale eyes slightly narrowing as he quipped back, "Did you find what you were looking for?"

He stared at her forearms as she laughed. His own sort of sour grimace graced his facial features - now that was more like it. He straightened as he came to comprehend that their uncle, Nicoló, did possess the gall to jeopardize the pack. Whether this had happened in his absence or just a few hours ago, it did not matter, his response would have been the same (most especially after she told him that she had gleaned from the Historian that she was unstable). His gut twisted. Nicoló Archer would be sorely mistaken if he even crossed paths with him again. Even Angier could have attested to such a thing; for example, in the circumstances regarding Piety, where Skoll would have easily put the poor girl to death for her mindlessness and betrayal, Morganna had only taken an ear off the Santoro to warn her to never come back.

A growl thundered from him as he faced his age mate, the side of his muzzle twitching as he wordlessly agreed that she ought to have his head. Though, as the queen's posture relaxed, Skoll's hackles barely lowered. He flashed his teeth, still hot on the idea of eliminating their relatives - figuratively the older versions of themselves. It only made sense in the way their aunt Adele clung to Nicoló's hide and followed in his shadow that she would have to go also.

"Do yer ever think about just leavin'?" her question contrasted so sharply with her previous sentiments and statements that Skoll made a sound that was something in-between a snarl and a whine. Her tone was serious and the acid that longed to drip off his own tongue had to be curbed in the side of his cheek. "Yes," he admitted, his voice much too flat and earnest to be taken for sarcasm or teasing. He made a face at the thought of Angier and his now milky white eyes. His tail rose to arch above his back and he brought his nose within inches of hers. Half-lidded eyes regarded her with a rather contemplative stare and a tilt of his skull as though he were trying to imagine something or attempting to persuade her into something. His lips parted, cracked open just enough so that she might see his tongue curl to touch the roof of his mouth in thought before he spoke, "I never thought you'd ask..."

There was a moment where it seemed like he could have touched his lips to hers but he immediately drew back so that he could fully see her face. A soft smile played along his maw, "I'll let you know, though, that I am thinking of making it official with @Hecate. I'd say I've learned my lesson after that whole... Piety incident, don't you think?"

An undeniable scowl stared back at her as she told him the direct opposite of what he had wanted to hear. To that, he snorted at her. He could tolerate Renier, sure, but he rather would have liked her confidence before anything else. Morganna went on to tell him her terms before shifting the topic ever so smoothly onto the idea of cubs. His mouth flattened into a hard line.

"I never thought of asking him," he answered, honesty evident in his tone by the way his tone remained level. "But, I have thought of it. He's been an only child for too long, I think a sibling might round him out some." He met her eyes, the undertones of his words easily discernible as he slightly smirked. Obviously having a sister (even if she was only younger than him by a short span of minutes or so) had done him a world of wonders.

He searched her face now, suddenly aware of the downward note her words had taken. "What do you mean?" the words came slow, the question almost attempting to pull from her all the possible answers related to why his sister could not bear a litter of her own. His tail lashed at the air in a single swipe. First assumptions went to Renier and how the Lyall probably could have been a poor choice as a partner to begin with. Their own mother had been lucky to bear nine children over the course of three years, surely his sister had the same potential.

"What else is wrong?" he continued to catechize her, suddenly uncertain as to where else their conversation was going to go. You know you can tell me.