Deepwood Weald and every day, I'd add another stone to keep you safe

Marruz, indeed, listened — and very intently at that. Since a mere pup, the boy had engulfed every waking moment of his life living and breathing beneath a celestial canopy. He had to admit that, though his heart was often closed, it would never be so for the Night Mother. 

To think, however, that he could ever "maintain a connection to the grand planes of Oblivion" sounded almost too lavish for the shade. His mind contested with the flow of words, beating each until they morphed into meaning within the bulwark of his skull. He wanted to believe he could do this. So, the indigo and black pools made their subtle way back towards that familiar beacon, the void vault of vantablack purity, the sky at night.

"Then I would like to try," Marruz's words did not come quickly, but they grew louder in the evening stillness. Jaw locked; engaged, disengaged, and fussed. There was a resolution, for once, that gave way in his cryptic features.