Dragoncrest Cliffs Radio reminds me of my home far away.

Blissfully unaware of his father's grim thoughts, Dacio simply beamed up at his bright features with the largest of smiles. Their eyes met, and the youngster strained his little neck to better see the vibrant colours of each iris: both vibrant, but vastly different. In that moment he was simply a happy child, aware of the world and desperate to see more of it, entirely lost to the worries of his parents that he - as the only son - may fail their expectations just as their first had.

The adult lifted a forelimb to sweep over the cub's tiny frame, and gently scooped him up in the crook of an elbow to pull him close. Dacio, babbling contently at this new proximity, was content to bury his blunt snout among the ivory tresses of the Wocha's chest to enjoy the fussing he was sure to receive.