That easy going smile on Mesec’s face faded somewhat when Sacre was mentioned - but not for the sake of the name, but the descriptor that came with it. Brother. “Sacre’s your brother?” He responded, stupidly clinging to that one little part of what this stranger had said instead of answering the question, instead of focusing on anything else.

Immediately, Lucius abandoned his overhead flight and cut through the foliage to land in a nearby tree, his own silver eyes observing the bay stallion. He had no intention of leaving Mesec alone to deal with the surfacing of a family member on his own. It felt strange, to find a family member instead of lose one.How many siblings did Mesec have that he didn’t know of? He wished he had asked d’Artagnan while he still had the chance, wanted nothing more than another opportunity to have a conversation with his father. The doctor had made a family with Kou, one that Mesec wasn’t truly a part of, and now that they were both gone (in one way or another) it seemed that Mesec wasn’t the only one that was left behind.

His head was swimming with this information - making him miss almost everything else that had been said. The word Basin was  He was making an assumption, of course, and there was definitely doubt rising with the hope. It wasn’t confirmed, not yet, but it soon could be. Roux could be Sacre’s brother by adoption instead of blood or it… well, the doubts that he had weren’t strong but he was too afraid to hope that maybe he still had family in Helovia. For a moment, he considered not telling Roux that they were brothers - but it was only because he wasn’t exactly sure how to break the subject.

Because once they made the connection, the weight of the losses that they shared would come crashing down.

Mesec shook his head to clear his thoughts, though it didn’t really help. “He.. he lives in the Throat with me. I haven’t seen him lately but… he’s my brother too.” The confession came out hesitantly, wondering just what this brother of his thought. “My father is…” With hesitation, Mesec corrected his choice of tense. D’Artagnan was gone, he would never return to Helovia. Mesec would never know when his father died, would never know what became of him. “... was... d’Artagnan.” For the first time in a very long time, Mesec felt self-conscious of the wings resting against his sides - a blazing sign that his mother hadn’t been d'Artagnan's beloved Kou.

Before explaining any further, though, he waited for a reaction from the bay stallion. With the knowledge he thought he had, this tentative bond influencing his sight, Mesec realized it was no wonder he had mistaken Roux for his (their?) father - there were definite similiarities there.