Victoria stalked through the desert, tail twitching with a combination of irritation and anxiety. It was highly unlike the Miroslav Princess to doubt herself, but the incident had replayed itself in her mind over and over. The strange looking boy at the border, spouting his lies - Septima blindly offering to help him. Had it been enough to eliminate the creature? Probably not. But she had latched onto his neck and having found her mark, had not let go. Not until he lay motionless, not breathing or moving or living at her paws. There had been a moment where she thought she might vomit, when the adrenaline had left her suddenly and she realised what she had done. She'd had to do more than that afterwards - to drag his body away from the borders. It had been his own fault, she reasoned with another internal sneer of irritation. It prickled along her fur now, setting the piebald girl's sleek fur spiky in odd places as dark dusted ears flattened against her head. She shouldn't have thought any more on what she'd done. It was Septima's behaviour that she fixated on instead - the blind trust she placed in others was going to get her hurt. Perhaps it was because Victoria had learned her lack of trust from Diantha - Septima had always been far too den-bound when the older two girls were off exploring (causing havoc). Either way, it troubled her and the Miroslav Princess headed down to her flattened plateau rock to stare moodily out across the Oasis water, a scowl upon her features and her white-tipped tail twitching sporadically behind her.

table by koi

He'd gone unnoticed where he reclines on the hillside; perhaps partially because of her ire, and partially because he's lounging above her in the shadows offered by a copse of palm trees. @Victoria's irritation is palpable in her body language and the way she skulks to the water's edge, prompting a quirk of the sovereign's brow, though he observes in silence for a little while longer. His paws flex against the cool sands, allowing it to sift casually between his toes before he finally makes his presence known. "Dour doesn't suit you, Victoria," he hums, the low tone of his voice carrying across the distance as he awaits the inevitable whip around of her skull to find him loitering on the dune above.

image by k'sariya, code by koi

Victoria had not spied her father, but it was hardly surprising. While she was certainly beginning to get the idea of observing her surroundings, she was no expert and her father's position was hardly overt. When he hit the sand however, her dark ears picked up the sound of approaching steps and she glanced over to find @Seneca approaching. The rumble of his words rolled through her, deep and reverberating. Under normal circumstances, Victoria's instinct told her to snap back - a snide remark about how something on his face didn't suit him or some such venom. However, Victoria knew perfectly well where that would land her and her father was perhaps one of the only creatures she respected enough to keep her tongue in check. "I'm sorry, Daddy." She murmured, quietly standing and aiming to brush her cheek against his chin respectfully. It would have been easy to blame everything on Septima, to fall back on the irritation she felt for her sister. But the plum boy's body was a heavy weight on her and it took only several long moments of silence for her to step back, ears remaining flattened as she glanced up at her father. "Something happened on the borders the other day." She murmured, so softly that it seemed both unlike her and worrying.

table by koi

She greets him with an appropriately chagrinned apology, earning a low rumble from the sovereign as he dips his skull to meet the brush of her chin. Seneca, of course, can tell a brooding child when he sees one, and his gaze is laced with intrigue for what has @Victoria looking so sour today. Beside the familiar crystalline waters, he reclines in the sand, allowing it to warm his belly and putting him at a more eye-level position with his daughter. She offers a tidbit -- merely a snippet, enough to leave him searching for further explanation. "Go on," he prompts with a quirk of his brow, his ears twisted towards the piebald teenager to indicate that she has his full attention.

image by k'sariya, code by koi

The rumble of her father is a roll of thunder through her body, the dip of his head an acceptance of the daughterly affection and respect. Victoria might have been a viper to almost everyone she came across, but her father commander both emotions in abundance. He settled into the sand and the Princess was happy to follow suit, reclining beside him so that they faced the same way. @Seneca's rumbled encouragement causes her heart beat to kick up, the swallow and lick of her tongue over her nose enough to belie her calm exterior. "I killed an injured cub." She admitted, low in tone but not necessarily regretful. She felt vindicated in her actions, protecting her home and her sister from nasty little liars. And in reality, she had been caught up in the instinctive need to have the body between her jaws stop struggling, to subdue and silence. She did not look to her father and remained quiet, silver gaze fixed upon the calm water.

table by koi

It's unlike her to evade his gaze like she does -- to retreat into herself in a mannerism that leaves Seneca even more curious. The silence is long and looming in the moments that follow his pushing her, and whilst he is not the most patient of creatures, he is in this. The revelation, when it comes, is nothing he could have guessed. Seneca's brows arch in surprise, and there's a thoughtful little noise in the back of his throat. "Did you?" he murmurs, though it's a rhetorical question more than anything -- equal parts bewildered and impressed. Any parent other than a Miroslav would likely be horrified, but nothing of the sort crosses his mind or his features; this is their way. It does, however, present the potential for other problems in the aftermath. "A cub from where?" Seneca presses, asking the most prudent question. The why of it can come after, but he needs to know now if @Victoria's actions have put the Oasis in danger.

image by k'sariya, code by koi

Silver gaze remained fixed upon the water, though it was not with an inner turmoil that she gazed. It was a momentous thing to have done, but she didn't feel guilty about it. She felt justified, vindicated in her rightness. The low sound at the back of @Seneca's throat is followed by a soft, rhetorical question that Victoria felt bound to answer none the less. It was with a singular nod of her head that she did, gaze remaining out rather than glancing at him. She probably could have elaborated, but it was enough to just admit it. The question that followed was to be expected and finally the girl glanced up at her father, silver gaze on his chin instead of his vibrant gaze. "From nowhere. He was alone, his whole family died in a fire." She offered, no hint of keeping anything from that conversation secret. Of course, the question makes sense - if she had killed the cub of another pride, then the Oasis would likely be in hot water.

table by koi

Victoria is astute -- she always has been. Seneca suspects that she is the most intelligent of his daughters, keeping herself carefully guarded in many of the same ways that he does. And so it comes as little surprise that she had gotten information from her victim before felling him; she's smart enough to understand the value of covering her tracks. Still, it's no small thing, what she's done, and the weight of it hangs heavily between them. He can sense some sort of hesitation, some uncertainty in the way @Victoria won't look directly at him, focusing instead on some point below his eyes. "I see," he hums softly, considering her answer with a level tone. Whatever the circumstance, he is proud of her; it is a promise that she lives up to her heritage, and proof that she is worthy of his name. "Why did you do it?" Seneca murmurs, prodding for more information than his daughter seems willing to give. Fair enough, he supposes, as he's the one had invaded her attempt at privacy. But he is here now, nevertheless, and Victoria must know that he'll pull out the whole story one way or another.

image by k'sariya, code by koi

She wasn't sure what she had expected, entirely. In any case, she hadn't been sure she would reveal her actions to anyone, but there was a tiny part of her that had wanted at least someone to know. Not necessarily in a boastful kind of way, but just to be aware of what she was capable of, what she could do if motivated enough. But if she had expected a scolding from her father, if she thought he would be disgusted at her, she would have been wrong. @Seneca's calm tones were soft, accepting the ugly part she had showed him without flinching from her. It soothed her enough that when he asked the inevitable next question, she didn't shy from it. She still wouldn't look at him, but she didn't shy from it. "Because he was a lying toad." She bit out, grey eyes narrowing at the distance she chose to focus on. Of course, this was not the whole story and she knew she owed it to her father to give it. "The cub was on our borders bleeding and Septima found him. She was fawning over him, offering him help -" She murmured now, trying to really piece together what had happened and her motives. "She was perfectly willing to just give away her assistance and when I asked for something in return -" Eternal servitude had been her ultimate goal but alas - "He spun some wild tale about being an assassin and knowing how to kill. He can't have been more than three months old." She scoffed, scorn clear in her tone. "I actually intended to drive the lying toad from our borders to get help elsewhere, but he was already weak and didn't put up much fight when I got his throat." She revealed, a matter of fact tone but the flicker of her ears nonetheless. Finally, she looked up at her father, grey eyes settling on burnt orange. "I'm not sorry." She iterated softly, face set in a strange mixture of determination and defiance.

table by koi

A soft snort follows her first statement — a low expulsion of breath in a brief indication of humor at @Victoria's claim. There is a fire that burns in her as surely as it burns in him, and if he had ever doubted it before, he doesn't now. He allows his daughter the time to tell her story, to explain how Septima had met the boy with benevolence, how it had been an accident — technically. That she isn't sorry. His skull tilts slightly, meeting her gaze with a cool, collected expression. "Good. You shouldn't be," he says, justifying her actions and enabling her. @Victoria would do well to be smart about nurturing the darkness inside of her, but he has little doubt in the princess's potential to wield herself as a weapon. "You are a Miroslav, Victoria — never feel guilt for that. Never forget that we are better than everyone else." They may be quiet now, biding their time at the edge of the world, but they are building an empire, and it's only a matter of time until house Miroslav comes into their own once again.

image by k'sariya, code by koi