Flare.
Flare.
Creak.
Creak.
“Are you free right now?” Salem asked.
Before Kane could even open his mouth to speak, he was quickly cut off by the Prince, who continued to talk anyway without receiving a response.
“If you are, I want you to walk with me and tell me your name, along with whatever else you wanted to tell me before you caught yourself.”
'Tell you what? The fact that you're probably not prepared to be king? Nah, I totally couldn't say that to you." Kane sarcastically thought to himself, greatly resisting the urge to scoff at nobility. He personally thought that the way Salem was raised wasn't very good training for a king. Although, he did doubt himself at times, saying that he might have been receiving proper teachings in seclusion, still, that most likely wasn't the case. With the death of Prince Salems father and the stories of a deadly assassination attempt, the royal protection had almost seemed too secretive of their prized prince. It wasn't necessarily the Prince's fault that things were like this, but Kane still partially blamed him in purposeful ignorance anyway.
"Yes, I'm available right now. The name's Kane Caspian, it's a pleasure to meet you, your highness." Kane said, with the same stoic expression on his face. Small beads of sweat trickled down the back of his neck as he spoke, but they were hidden quite well by his hair. They weren't from speaking to Salem, rather, the intense heat that seemed to only grow bigger every second he stood in Alizé's quarters.
Upon realizing this Kane turned to the fire-type mistress and said his goodbyes before heading out into the hallway with the Prince.
The Luxray breathed a sigh of relaxation as he closed the door behind him. It wasn't much cooler, but it was still cooler none the less. Kane took a moment to notice the marks on Salem's skin again. They were quite alluring in the way they made sharp turns and curves with effortless symmetry and precision. 'I oughtta get in contact with whoever painted those.' He thought to himself.
Out of pretty much no-where a Greninja appeared a little further down the hall. It took a moment for Kane to realize it, but it was the same one he saw run past him before. Of course, each of her swift movements was carefully observed and monitored by the Architect as she drew closer, he didn't miss a thing. It was such a shame that such precise and careful abilities were given to a dark type. Kane didn't have anything against the controversial types, it was more of a pity feeling. They couldn't help that they were born that way, and the stereotypes didn't exactly help to rectify the widespread belief that all poisons, darks and ghosts were inherently evil. Hell, Kane knew what it felt like, he'd been mistaken as a Dark type himself many a time before. All cases he was accused of ended up with the accuser having missing eyebrows the next morning, what could he say? It was kind of amusing.
Just to make sure he wasn't seeming rude, Kane strolled up to Salem and stood next to him. The girl in front definitely looked tense, she must have had an errand to do or something.
"Yo." The electric type greeted, with a small toss of his right hand.