Noctisardor Bypass the skies taste like summer wine

worripa, wrapped in the ultimate illusion of blissful youth and safety of his mother's watchful eye ( even if she was harboring regrets about having children ) was not of the age yet where his instincts were hone for danger. he harbors a mellow approach to all things unknown — mainly composed of childish curiosity and little else. baby blue gaze follows the grasshopper as he mimics the insect's hops, stumbling back in confusion and blinking up at the woman who's blonde paw the fat, green bug landed upon.

the movement of the insect hopping off and into the fortress of emerald grasses captures worripa's attention but the stranger blocking his path — thus ending his hunt — demands it more. he doesn't know her. she is not mother, not sister, not the dark pelaged mahler of whom ( out of nature and his own unawareness that such was not the case ) worripa sees as father though he has no word for it.

a secondary parent; presence almost as common as praimfaya's own.

heeii! worripa chirrups the greeting in trigedasleng, tail wagging behind him.