The blue, hazy sky met with the powdered trees above. The air was cold, crisp, as ever was the wintery days of Dryhtwood. There was nothing but the trees and snow within the dense forest, a serene, quiet place. Only the smallest of the dark green leaves poked out of the soft snow, the somewhat bluish haze of the forest overlapping the brown trunks of the trees which sprouted out from the white. Even though the weather was quite frosty, the Prince of the Elves still found it rather peaceful, his light grey boots crunching along below, as the white robe billowed around them, moving behind him with each step. The pale elf looked upward, around at his surroundings as he could only hear the distant calls of a bird. The wind was rather still but he thought he could feel some faint snowflakes drifting down onto his form. His icy blue eyes matching the color around him, they gazed at the scenery as he crossed, his hands placed before him on his chest as he held one over another, such regality within his every movement despite the fact that he was alone. The fur surrounding his shoulders held a white cape that also flowed down, nearly blending into his robes as he walked, only the slightest of a distinguishment as it flowed differently than the rest. His entire appearance seemed to be like a white shining pearl amongst a sea of green, yet blending into the whiteness of the wintery forest. Cyril continued forward, his walk through the forest being a pleasant one.

He continued to walk, nothing within the forest besides the quietness and the cold atmosphere around him, until he happened upon an animal. He couldn't tell what it was at first, however at a closer glance it was what seemed to be, a fox. A silver fox no less. He hardly noticed the dead mouse next to the hole, however much more was in his sight now. stray branches, a few patches of trees poking out from the snow here and there. Nevertheless, he smiled. Such a creature it was. He couldn't help but think that it was rather adorable. But he thought of it no more than just a fox. The elves had a deeper connection to nature and to animals, after all. His gaze lingered upon it, the smile remaining on his face.

"How endearing," he commented, seeing how much the dark ball of fur contrasted with the brightness of the snow.

He looked down as the little creature had approached him. How odd indeed. The elf looked down at it with curiosity as it came forward. It was then he noticed the dead mouse laying back there, near the hole, as his blue eyes crossed that direction. Ah, so it must have been hunting, he presumed. However he was surprised that it just didn't snatch its kill and run. Even though elves had a deep connection to animals, this was rather peculiar. Nevertheless, Cyril continued to look down at the silver fox. He did not reach down and pet it, even though one might have. Instead, he just dropped down to knee-level, squatting so that he was nearer to it. Though his hands still held close to his own body.

He just looked at the fox with curious ice-blue eyes, blinking a few times as his face wore a rather pleasant expression. There was a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth, however he just continued to gaze at the animal.

Cyril blinked a few times in surprise, not expecting the little creature to speak out to him. Nevertheless, he remained calm, his features ever so soft as they were. So this was a werebeast was it? Tilting his head backwards slightly, as to remove any stray white strands of hair from getting in his face, he looked down at the silver fox once more. "No, not particularly," he smiled reassuringly, eyes almost seemingly peering closer at him. He continued to remain in his position, squatted in front of him. "What is it that brings you here?" he then asked, then peered behind him. "Hunting perhaps?" he then asked quizzically, however there was a hint of jest to his words. But then, he gracefully rose from his position, remaining to that of standing once again. He turned to face the direction he was headed in, but his head turned to the side and down where he was.

"I was just going on a pleasant stroll," he then said. "Would you care to join me?" he then invited the creature. Even if he said no, the elf prince continued to walk forth anyway, leading the way as his boots crunched into the soft powered snow beneath.

He continued to pace through the snow as the little fox was beside him. At the mention of where he lived he couldn't help but chuckle slightly. But it wasn't a harsh or grating sound, rather it was smooth much like the still weather around them. Even at that, it was hardly noticeable. His eyes that were closed opened again, blue orbs peering straight ahead. In fact, he wasn't far from where his home was. Both of them weren't. The castle of the elves wasn't very far away. Cyril would not venture somewhere that wasn't too far away from the place. But above the tree line, he spotted the snow covered towers of the castle in the distance. "You could say that," he responded, looking out at the castle and the sky behind it, before turning down to the werebeast.

"And yourself?" he then questioned, albeit lightly. He supposed a silver fox as him might live in Dryhtwood, but considering that he was a werebeast, it was probably more likely that he lived in the mountains north of here, were most werebeasts resided. "Do you live close as well? Or perhaps your clan does?" he then asked, the two continuing through the forest on this peaceful day. But, all the werebeasts lived in clans, or the majority of them did. Some were kicked out, outlawed. In fact, he hadn't heard of the leaders of the three main clans in some time. It was rather off putting. They hadn't been at the Royal Emberi Ball, or at any recent event as he was able to recall. Perhaps it was worth investigating. Were they in political instability? He wondered.

His pace slowed a bit, as to let the fox keep up. There was no rush after all, such a pleasant stroll it was, within the wintery landscape. He continued walking but looked down at him as he talked, stating which clan he hailed from. Ah, so he was correct then. About the mountain part at least. "The Blood Rose Pack..." he spoke curiously, the name rolling off his tongue in a thoughtful manner, although he was confused. He hadn't heard much of that one, if at all. "I am regretful, however I am unable to recall the clan," his eyes brightened, looking at him as they walked. "You will have to refresh my memory," he laughed, trying to play it off as if he were in jest. However, he wondered which pack it was. It certainly wasn't the main ones he's heard of. Perhaps it was one just for foxes, but he could have sworn he'd heard the name before somewhere... and recently as well. When the werebeast gave his name, Cyril smiled once more, his head returning to face forward.

"My name is Cyril," he introduced himself, leaving blank space for the werebeast to fill in the rest, unless he hasn't heard of the elf prince. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Michael, of the Blood Rose."

Alvina... now that name was certainly more familiar. Now that he was able to recall... hasn't he heard her name in attendance at the Royal Emberi Ball? He wasn't certain if it was indeed her or not, but now as he thought, his eyes lifted to the sky once more as he remembered the name of the clan and its leader... Perhaps he had heard about it after all? If not maybe he could ask Lucia, she may know a thing or two about the clans. But it was no important matter, for the moment. But a certain aspect of it did come to his mind upon hearing the name of its Alpha. "I see. That is the one that takes in outlaws, yes?" he questioned, his ice cold eyes trailing back down to met his again, this time perhaps they had a glint of something else than their usual glare from before. Something more suspicious, or sinister, one might see. But alas, the split second as they had come they had returned to that of a pleasured glance. His gaze resumed on the snow before them as he walked, and then the little fox caught on. He indeed was the prince of the elves, and to be king, that was until the time was right. He couldn't contain the laughter which soon emitted from him, smooth and melodic.

"That is correct," he said, a hint of amusement and glimmer of happiness within his eyes as they briefly looked back down at him again, the white glare from the bright sun ever more present in his pale blue eyes. They then resumed forward again, as he continued to walk, dropping the topic as it was no longer important. "What is your role within the Blood Rose Pack?" Cyril then asked him, wondering what he did within a pack of outlaws. Certainly this young one was too young to be an outlaw, to join on his own accord, the elf figured.

Ah, then he figured that this one might be an offspring of an outlaw, or perhaps none at all as he listened to him speak, smiling slightly as they walked. Indeed, the snow was falling rather heavily than before in comparison, he could feel the cold tingle of the icy air upon the flesh of his pale face. He found himself looking upward, his steps slowing in their pace as he inspected the snowfall. Time seemed to stand still as he placed out a slender hand, catching some snowflakes which dropped upon it angelically. He continued to stand in place, quite serenely as the quietness around them was drowned out with Michael's speech once more. Cyril looked to him again, his hand remained out but listened attentively. His eyes gazed over at him, but they did not shine with further emotion, returning to the snow which seemed to gather in his hand rather quickly as he then clutched it into a fist before letting the remaining ice slide to the ground. His boots began to press on, looking upward at the tall trees which seemed to get lost within the come of the new snowflakes dancing downward from the now cloudy skies above.

"Being a prince is nothing without his people," he spoke, continuing to look upward at the sky. The pale rays of remaining sunlight shining upon his white form, along with that of the now many more snowflakes which fluttered downward from the heavens above. "And those who are able to protect them..." he trailed off. Suddenly he turned around, his long white hair trailing as it turned with his figure, looking toward the fox.

"Be my page, Michael of the Blood Rose," he offered, blue eyes looking at him with tranquility.