The errant female had, for reasons unbeknownst to him, agreed to help him achieve sight. Zerachiel was not a dolt by any means and knew exactly what type of individual he was going to bed with to get what he desired most, but he didn’t care. He was tired of being the outsider in Glorall and he was done with being underestimated or brushed off just because he cannot see with his eyes. It does not mean that he cannot see with his hearing, or his sense of smell, or even through touch. The world has different meaning to him than to those with useful eyes - but he is sick of having that held from him.

He finds his way down a well worn path that snakes through the trees by the river. It was the river of Glorall that was his favorite, not the ocean as many others seem to flock to. He enjoys the calm flow of the water over the roaring waves by the coast and often finds himself drawn here to ease his weary mind.

A light snow blanketed the ground, though it was quickly melting from the warmth of the sun that managed to break through the skeletal arms of the trees. It would not last long as the temperatures rose through the morning and by this afternoon all of it would be nothing but slush or water. Each step he takes causes soppy imprint into the melting snow and mud begins to cake his paws as he makes his way to the gently sloping bank of the river. His ears twitch about the top of his head in search for anyone who may already be nearby but as no obvious sound is detected, he bows his head to drink from the chilled water. He was supposed to find Siren again but perhaps she would get to him first.