Skill: —[2/5]

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'Despite the rain, it is a bright morning. Perhaps we have been blessed with a sun shower.' A morning. It was... bright out. Perhaps it was bright for a rainy day—yet the usually piercing pain that was sunlight was still absent. The morning... she sighed softly, a question that had been plaguing her mind for days finally answered. I see. Thank you. She leaned her head down against the burrow's earthen wall, eyes narrowing with serenity.

Citlali remained relaxed, entirely still save for the rhythmic rise and fall of her flank. Still, she perked up as he spoke up once again. 'I wasn't expecting company, but you are more then welcome. My name is Cyrus, what is yours?' Citlali, she responded, voice hardly over a whisper, still. Citlali Beauregard. She settled her chin against the soft fur of her tail.

The woman gave her thanks for the news, seemingly finding comfort in knowing such a simple thing. But maybe it wasn't so simple for someone who was blind. A moment that he found himself walking in her paws for a moment, trying to understand what it was like from her point of view. You're very welcome. The caregiver went back into the den, making himself comfortable on the other side as he curled into a ball. Blue eyes looked to her, registering her name coming from a soft voice.

It's a pleasure, Such a pretty name. I am Cyrus. Cyrus of Elysium. A pack not far from here. There was a sadness that crept back into his soul at mentioning them, instantly regretting doing so. But he did his best not to let it show in his own voice and demeanor. Where are you heading to after this? Are you new in these lands? A friendly conversation to get his mind off of things. Hopefully it would work.

Skill:

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'Cyrus. Cyrus of Elysium. A pack not far from here.' But, how odd. He smelled alone. Citlali did not question anything, simply acknowledging his words with a hum. She settled her chin against her soft, pale paws, sightless eyes following the haze of gray, foggy light of the overcast sky.

The rain was loud, thrumming against the earthen ground, filling the air with the deep musk of petrichor. Yet, for once, Citlali was not rooted by immobility, stuck in the downpour.

The small wolf coiled her tail over her eyes, shielding them from the glow of the burrow's entrance. When he spoke, only her ears moved, twisting at the base to heed his words with her visage still covered by whisps of silken fur.

...I have been here for many weeks, now, Citlali responded, partially an observation—somehow, she was still here. As for where I am headed... I do not know. Her soft voice was muffled by the heap of silvery locks that fell over her front.

Cyrus watched the blind wolf as she formed into a silver swirl, her fur covering her eyes most likely in an attempt to shield her from the light of the world outside. He wondered just how much she could really see, but decided against asking anything further of it. Instead he kept his attention on her voice, letting it settle the nerves that quelled within his golden form. In a way, I understand your plight. I do not know where I am going either. At least not yet.

He let the truth of those words weigh him down for a moment, bringing him back to a reality that he didn't want to face. Where do you come from? Are you of these lands? Maybe I can help you get to somewhere safer. This land can be...unforgiving. Something that Cyrus had to learn over time, and wished that he never had to encountered to begin with. Once again he found himself missing his old life, hearing his mother's voice. Now she was gone forever, her face becoming nothing more then a barely visible memory.