As they chat, evening begins its descent like a dim veil across the valley, bruising the sky with soft purple, shifting blues, and even copper-red where the sun rests wearily against the western range. He looks to it briefly, painfully aware that his beloved island would not yet be lost to the night; no walls enclosed Manangatang like they did this strange realm, and sunlight drenched the soft sandy beaches long into the later hours. A chill snakes up the length of his spine and Noah shivers visibly.

The young female dips her splendidly, girlish skull in a most cordial fashion, and he offers the same gesture back, if only for the sake of good manners - it is not his way normally, he is bohemian, expressing a genial nature with rather less formalness. Compared to Nora (or how the dove had received him initially), the girl fluttering before him is a breath of fresh air; bright, forthcoming and it seems, very much pleased to be in his company. He will not deny the lovely creature the attention she seeks, and pays her blatant (almost sickening) cheerfulness with a strengthening grin. “No hassle,” he shrugs, mentioning smoothly about the gift now tethered to her tail. “It will… like birds, you know, we shed out old feathers to make space for the new ones.” He quite enjoys her interest, it beckons to his masculinity and one enormous wing expands ostentatiously; each long, golden flight feather fanning through the waning air of light.

Noah is yet to learn of other places. He and Nora had been guided blindly from the battlefield into an undulating jungle scape, at the centre of which was a gushing waterfall; a crystal pool beneath. They had barely spent a night in the wilds before finding refuge between the mountainous walls now looming over; sharp eyes scan the jagged peaks warily at the thought, but it is fleeting and his focus soon resettles on Akumi. He is surprised to learn that she too is new - if Helovia is in fact, the world within which they stand (to clarify he queries promptly, “so Helovia, its all of this?” with a grand, sweeping motion of his chin).

Knowledge is something he craves, yet few thus far seem willing to share it.

Blowing gently through flared nostrils, he watches the slender girl; she is chatty and speaks far quicker than his own lazy tone. Ears fix upon her from high atop his flaxen drowned poll.

“Uh, I’m from an island - pretty far away,” he informs vaguely certain that Managatang would be a name yet unknown in these parts (or even beyond). His tapering nose bounces gently. “Its been… an experience so far,” he explains carefully, not sure yet whether he is willing to breach the nature of his arrival - the tiger, the dove and the vexing pale prince. Neither can he share even as much as the name of this region; if he’d been told at all, the memory was blank.

Noah

I was born a warrior
I was born a warrior