Bramblepoint cranky curmudgeon

A low, guttural rumble jerked free of its clenched jaw prison as Cypress broke through a veritable mantle of thorns, his wild, tousled fur responding pretty much the way you’d expect it to: badly.

It snagged. It snarled. He hated this place.

By the time he reached his brother, the yellow-eyed eidolon was practically seething — but despite his increasingly feral mannerisms, he always had time and self control to spare when it came to Rannoch, Rian, and Alya. “Noch,” he greeted, the growl tucked safely behind the syllable that proved to Cypress more than anyone else that there was still some semblance of civility behind that sinister mask. “Everything okay?”