Lake Rodney shapeshift conductor for your spark

Tagging for reference, and paging @Rian and @Rannoch.

It is exceedingly rare for the eidolon to hold a stranger in such esteem, but Mato’s quiet dignity and passion for his craft appeal to the wild-furred harbinger of chaos. It’s the same passion Cypress sees sometimes in @Rose — when he dares to look at her, that is. Cypress has convinced himself that he has never and could never feel such passion about a profession, and maybe that’s true, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t wish he could feel what they feel. He appreciates the sidereal prince’s condolences, especially when references are made to his bravery, but his heart is too full and his throat too thick to comment upon them. Instead, he turns his back on the boy whose eyes mirror the silvered greening of spring — a colossal and uncharacteristic sign of trust — and carelessly flings his muzzle skyward. He calls for his brothers, but there is nothing lovely about his song; it is mechanical and calculated and perfunctory, scraping the bottom of his register and climbing in pitch until it brims near to breaking, walking back down through the octaves without fanfare or emphasis. Rian and Rannoch ought to be within earshot; he hadn’t wandered too far.