ICARUS | joining

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It may be the fox grown used to rain.  His first encounter with Redvox and Breena had been in similar weather.  Brighter skies, same gentle cascade; another painting-perfect scene, had he the supplies.  He tilted his head, impartial to the droplets slipping down his nose though the umbrella is a pleasant relief.

Spanish words floated through his ears, not unpleasantly despite his lack of comprehension.  Striking, the girl the words came from.  He had never met a jaguar of such light fur, nor adorning horns and wings.  Alaire listened quietly, sheepish smile already in place.  "Pardon," quickly, the apology leaves with twinkling eyes.  Curious, just as Georgia, of the snakes potential agitated behavior.

Out of place amongst Spanish and more fluent English, Alaire twitches his ears.  "Oui -- join.  Je m'appelle Alaire."  More rests on his tongue, the frantic questions lingering in his mind since his first flight from home.  Questions that no longer seemed to fit at first meeting since so much time had passed.

"Merci beaucoup.  [abbr=the rain is cold.]La pluie est froide.[/abbr]"  Another sheepish grin, admitting the plight with mild amusement.  The prospect of a warm, dryer building to rest cheered him, though the memory of sheltering from snow within the Halls' main fortress caused his smile to falter.

Rather than linger, Alaire refocused his molten gaze on the jaguar, "what is your name?" Those words he knew how to use.
[align=right]Dépaysement. (n.)