Stone Circle maybe it wasn't our fault

cyron gives a curt, albeit solemn nod when valette reminds him that he is nearly an adult and offers her confidence in that he can stand his ground. yes, that much he could do, he is certain. he held his ground — for whatever it was worth — against the ebony and grey colored man and he could do it again. if anything blackfeather woods had instilled a adherence towards distrust when it came to strangers aided by the fact that he is ( exceptions notwithstanding ) taciturn. valette's words relieve cyron greatly and it is shown in the deep inhale and heavy sigh of an exhale that he lets out after she finishes. he is glad that the business of the daring male is finished; even if it does inspire the next leg of their conversation. she assures him that he is not under any pressure and then suggests that he could spend some time with her son, ezra. cyron is left feeling surprised by her casual suggestion of it and his ears flutter back as he contemplates her words. she would really want him around her son? even though he's ... the way that he is? it's not as if cyron is unaware that he isn't the same boy he was before he was kidnapped. he can see it, he can see it in the pain in his parent's eyes when they look at him and know that the cyron they see is not the cyron they remember; will likely never be that carefree, ignorant and naive child ever again. "i — i'll think about it," he says slowly, carefully. his salmon pink tongue draws across his jowls in a swift motion. his contemplation of the suggestion was more for ezra's safety then cyron's own but he can't say that and thus hopes she accepts that he will, at the very least, consider it. "thank you." cyron breathes to her earnestly, ghosting towards her with the intent of offering her a submissive lick beneath her chin.