The more Sacre thought about it the more he wistfully realised that, really quite truthfully, he didn't know very much about his family. Even Mesec, the more he thought about it, the half-brother who had lived apart from him and Roux, probably knew about as much as he did. Sacre didn't know that d'Artagnan had many cousins, a sister, a niece and he certainly didn't know that some of them lived in Helovia. In essence, he knew diddly squat when it came to the many blood ties that extended across Helovia and beyond. He already had enough problems trying to keep track of his closest siblings, who liked leading him a merry dance, to which he had only seen Mesec and Raeru recently, so it was probably in the fox-boys best interest that he knew nothing about the others who shared blood with him. Ah! Yet here he was, forgetting Mesec's dear two children, his niece and nephew, whom Sacre so desperately wanted to meet. Though the healer would be sure to mention them later, right now his attention was fixed to the Moon's son and his recollection of the Nightshades other children. 

As he rattled them off, Sacre smiled and nodded, he knew all of them by name at least apart from one, but even Sacre hardly knew anything about her. "You almost have them all" he grinned lopsided before his expression turned sadly thoughtful "yes there was Aviya" dead "there is Nao also, though I haven't ever seen her" missing "Roux... my twin brother" beloved other-half, also missing "and the youngest, Ráeru" a pearl amongst rocks—not missing. "Ráeru is actually here, in the Worlds Edge, she's a healer" he beamed proudly, he still didn't know very much about his little sister, but he loved her very much all the same. However, one part of Mesec's reply didn't go unnoticed and Sacre zoned in on his brother, his gaze suddenly pleading and very intense "where did you see Roux? I have been looking for him for seasons" his words were almost dire, how many times and how many Helovians had he asked about Roux? He didn't care, the more information he had, the more his chances narrowed down.... He hoped. Sacre wouldn't stop until everyone knew he was looking for a precious red boy and the name, Roux, whispered on every gust of wind then maybe, finally, his infuriatingly elusive twin might open his ears to hear his brother who so desperately called his name.

As usual when Sacre thought about his freaky family, his emotions went wild like being on a rollercoaster, hurtling him through nostalgia, pain, hope and sadness. Kou. Sacre had adored his mother, so when stumbling across her mangled body one fateful day in the Thistle Meadow was shocking to say the least, it wasn't even enough to say that he was crushed by it. He still avoided the Meadow if he could because of it and, to this day, had never mentioned his mother in conversation again. Though still he smiled gratefully at Mesec, nodding a silent thanks, but said nothing of her. 

"There may be more, but this is all I know" he humorously shrugged, still wondering if any other relative might worm its way out of the woodwork and he too hoped that maybe there might be more to this oddball family.

The fox-boy was sadly unsurprised by Mesec's admission of neglect as a child, the misfortune of being born with the blessed ability to fly in a herd under the rule of racist Unicorns was never going to end well, the Nightshade's bigotry made sure of that. Sacre didn't know if d'Artagnan ever truly cared for Mesec though he sincerely hoped his father had, under all the rough exterior he displayed, that blurred the lines between deceit and honesty. "I'm sorry... So sorry Mesec" Sacre bowed his head, his blue eyes glittering sadly, if his father wouldn't apologise, his son would. The fox-boy also felt a little guilt, he had believed the dribble of unicorn supremacy when he was younger and it wasn't until Lace instilled some doubt in his mind that Sacre began to think otherwise.

"I never saw him much either" he admitted too, Sacre was always rather scared of him as he could never guess his mood from one day to the next. Though he couldn't imagine the kind of frightening moments Mesec went through as Sacre's single, crimson horn made sure he was treated like a true son of d'Artagnan, like Mesec should have been. "Sometimes I wonder about why he was like that, what made him so angry all the time, so annoyed... Was he saveable?" had there ever been a moment when the old Plague Doctor could have been rescued from his own contempt. 

To live with so much hatred must have been agony. 

Sacre took the downturn in conversation as an opportunity to lighten it, looking at Mesec curiously as he remembered what he wanted ask earlier, "your children, how are they?" he chimed, intrigued to know more about his brothers young family.