Meadowlark Prairie turn your wounds into wisdom

Cicero knew a thing or two about magic, but he had never heard of fel magic. Truthfully, he was not so sure he believed in the magic of Mephala either, even though there was a undeniable pull towards all that she represented. But magic..? He was not sure, even if he had seen things that would convince another. But was it magic, or simply a delusional wolf's mind? Even in cases where he was involved — where he was the subject — he was not so sure of this.

So he was interested if this was just a delusional feline, or if there was really magic involved. Still, he was interested to find out more about this and so looked into the feline's eyes (by now convinced his speech was not a means to make fun of Cicero, but simply a kindred spirit when it came to speaking; Cicero could not help but wonder if Bajeera held an additional personality with him, too). "It is strong," he noted, though only because he felt there was something alluring to the feline's poisonous green eyes. He liked poison; and so he liked fel. "What sort of magic does it do?" he then asked with a note of interest to his voice, keen to find out. There were many different kinds of magics in the world, after all.