Wapun Meadow i didn't drown - i couldn't seem to die

at the question—completely unaware of the approach in his mourning, his instincts be damned—he turned to see a man cloaked in smoke and storm clouds. he lifted his chin to nod by impulse, froze, and then slowly shook his head.

nahin, surya said, eyes shifting downward. he swiped his muzzle with a forepaw, like a human trying to wipe away tears. it did nothing for him, though; his face was well and truly saturated, but the gesture was a slight comfort all the same.

mera papaji mar chu— halfway through the sentence, it occurred to him that the question had come in common tongue. shit, he thought, and shook his head. sorry. my papaji—my father. . .died. and i. . .

surya hiccupped, just barely saving himself from another round of tears. i don't know what to do.