Cináed had hoped, for a time, that his spitfire of a little sister might have grown up a little bit as time went on, and a part of him still hoped for it but he wasn’t about to hold his breath. He’d behaved and thus his mother had trusted him enough to take a journey south to act as an ambassador to another pack while Flair continued her pain-in-the-ass ways. It shouldn’t bother him – it had nothing to do with him even if he often found himself a target to her… but it did. It rustled his feathers more than he cared to admit.
Love your family. They’ll always have your back. Yeah, right. He scoffed to himself. He held little doubt that anyone else would have his back… just not his sister. He growled lightly at himself. Perhaps that was why he was seeking her out with a large frown on his face, his posture unusually tense. Perhaps, a fools hope he supposed, he could talk to her about stepping up a little more… not that he knew much of what she did to begin with… he just assumed it lacked productivity.
He growled lightly to himself. He just woke up on the wrong side of the den, and much like he’d fallen victim to her several times before, this time she was going to get a taste of her own medicine? “Flair?” He asked, his voice short and snappy as he tracked her down based on her scent alone.