Firestone Hot Springs catalyst

While the mental breakdown of this stranger was, well awkward, for Kerberos, who was still an extremely reclusive being -- he was honestly working on fixing that --, Kerberos could sympathize. That heap of crying pain had been him, once upon a time. Kerberos had moped about for many months after he’d been taken from Aktaie. Of course, Kerberos had been very young at the time, but he told himself that the age of the bearer of the pain did not matter. The point was, Kerberos had been in pale boy’s paws before -- many times over -- and he understood what it took to bring you, literally, to your knees. Of course, understanding what it felt like did not, to Kerb’s immense disappoint, lend him the correct words of comfort to use in attempts to console. A name was given, though this did not seem to ease the other boy’s tears any. Yildun. When Yildun continued to introduce himself something shifted within Kerberos then. A sort of shock that seized hold of him at the verbal confirmation that the other boy was from Seahawk. And while Kerberos had never been to Sterrenevuur, he had, of course, heard of it and it’s leaders. “You’re one of Liyano’s sons’ aren’t you?” Kerberos asked in a soft whisper, ears rotating back to the half mast position he’d sort of adopted for this situation.

“I’m from Shearwater Bay -- well no, that isn’t the truth,” Kerberos corrected, Lecter’s hissing words of truth surrounding his birth. “I was born to the Nereides…but this is totally irrelevant, isn’t it? I’m Nanuq Kesuk’s son. …One of them, anyway.” There. That was all that would matter to Yildun. Much simpler than the confusing story that was Kerberos’ past. Which was surprisingly dramatic and complicated even though he was only a year old. A soft sigh of remorse escaped Kerberos’ leathery, black nostrils when Yildun confessed that it was his parents’ death that was the cause of well, this. “I-I’m sorry Yildun. That’s - that’s hard, man. Nanuq didn’t die -- at least I don’t think she did but, she, uh, she left my siblings and I. I’m sure that she had good reasons, I mean Atka and Sos…to disobey them is…well, like treason,” Kerberos was aware he was rambling (and that he was making excuses because the truth was he didn’t know why Nanuq left). “I guess, what I’m trying to say is…maybe the Stars whispered that it was their time to depart the physical world.” Kerberos, if he remembered correctly -- given Yildun’s emotional state he prayed to Atka that he did -- was fairly certain that Sterrenvuur had some sort of star worship (or maybe something similar) going on. It felt like a good thing to say, at least.

“I think of deceased loved ones, how I think of the Great Bear Gods -- Atka and Sos; they aren’t there -- not really. You can’t see them,” Kerberos fibbed a little on this because he would catch translucent glimpses of Atka, shivers of a massive white beast -- not often but he did see her -- but that wouldn’t aid in what he was trying to accomplish. “You can’t touch them…but they are there. You can feel them, you can hear them whispering to you on the wind, they are with you. Parts of them live on in your memories. They exist apart from you now but they are not gone, Yildun. They, like Atka and Sos, are infinite.” Kerberos clamped his jaw shut, eyeing the other boy weary-like, unsure if he was actually helping or just making it horrendously worse. Kerberos' intentions were good, but time would only tell if they were being perceived as such.