GOOD OL' FASHIONED NIGHTMARE | joiner, o

[fancypost bgcolor=; bordercolor=transparent; color: ; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; overflow: auto; width: 300px; height: 200px;][font=georgia]Konstantinos. Konstantinos. He couldn't forget that name. Not for the life of him.
Imagine waltzing up to the border, a foreign little child searching for your father, ready to meet the apparently oh-so-respected and high ranking officer, and forgetting his name. How embarrassing! Granted, it was a hard name for a young fellow to remember- it did have a lot of syllables and whatnot- but embarrassing nonetheless. Yes, forgetting that name could be a grievous error. It may even get him chased off of the border; who knew? Would they let him meander around the cusp of their lands, even if he had no business being there?
Yes, Anthony was nervous, nervous indeed. He was about to enter in to a way of life he was previously unacquainted with; that was a daunting task for a child. The Achaean League was but an idea; a tale, a promise of a home. It could be horrid; it could be the most vile place this side of the equator, or it could be a wonderful home for the little borzoi. Only time would tell. But for now, Anthony was naturally going to assume the worst, because he did not know what to expect.

Lurking on the border, among the tall grass and wildflowers, was the ghostly and pale figure of a pup, no more than a few months of age. He stuck out like a sore thumb in the sea of muted and beautiful colors; here was a dog of pure white, with long, flowing fur draped about his thin and tiny body. He looked ghoulish and ethereal all at once, staring down the ruins with two doe eyes.
He had a long nose, and a gangly form; thick fur and a lithe torso. He was unmistakably a borzoi, son of (presumably) the only other borzoi in the Achaean League. [/fancypost]

[fancypost bgcolor=; bordercolor=transparent; color: ; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; overflow: auto; width: 300px; height: 200px;][font=georgia]Another borzoi.
Anthony immediately felt a wave of some strange mix of fear and apprehension wash over him. He wasn't stupid; his was a breed with very intense features, and there was no mistaking that this fellow was a borzoi. Did he bear some relation to... whomever this was?
Most signs pointed to yes. It was highly unlikely that it was coincidental that he'd run into another one of his nature, one that was presumably old enough to be his father, on the border of his father's home.

The pale pup was snapped out of his reverie by Konstantinos' voice; immediately he pressed his large ears to his cranium; twas merely a nervous reflex.
Anthony opened his maw to speak, and because he had been saying repeating it in his head for fear of forgetting it, the name Konstantinos almost slipped out. But he caught himself, simply answering with a slightly strained utterance of, "Anthony."
There was a pause, and he awkwardly shuffled his paws. Out of courtesy, he decided to get straight to the point; no sense in beating around the bush. "Uh. Are you Konstantinos?" He was about to say something like, Did you perchance meet someone like, three months ago, who also coincidentally happened to be female? Because she popped out a kid! But he kept his mouth shut.[/fancypost]

[fancypost bgcolor=; bordercolor=transparent; color: ; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; overflow: auto; width: 300px; height: 200px;][font=georgia]"My mother is- well, just. She knows you, that's for sure." He laughed, awkwardly, a forced attempt at lightening the situation. He was unable to mask his expression of discomfort. This... shouldn't such a strange and flat-out weird situation. It wasn't as if he could dance around it for much longer, could he?
"As for my father," he continued, words slow and sort of faltering, "It's probably you." He waited, immediately beginning to shrink into himself for slight fear of a bad reaction. He prepared for some horrible fallout; this Konstantinos fellow may just sneer and lash out, or he may simply deny it. Tense, Anthony gnawed at his lip in the silence, shrugging. [/fancypost]