The image of his littermate shatters along with the silence between them. Initially the stranger had matched his silence, allowing whatever to transpire during his feeble attempt to collect himself. Just when the vision of his sister was beginning to solidify and become clear as day it crumbled tenfold and unveiled the reality that lay beneath. This wolf was not his kin, for she was dark where he had thought her to be light. In truth, she more resembled his brothers and even his own self, both of their bodies marked with auburn omens. The eerie gaze Eros found gave him a jolt as it reminded him of the icey stare of his mother, both for lack of color and the otherworldly quality to them.

Even the words matched that other quality that had made Achlys so strange, something he knew was undoubtedly buried deep within himself. Perhaps it wasn’t buried quite as deep as he initially thought, for her inquires had ignited his curiosity at the situation. The anxiety and nerves still remained, but there was more to the fact that his large paws remained motionless, and besides to glance once or twice at the river, his eyes remained on her. Eros did not know how to give her an answer with anything other than what he knew, point blank, as social courtesies had never been a part of his upbringing.

Yes.. It is the very first word he has uttered in so long, so much so that it comes out with a rasp and he has to take a moment before he can continue. He wonders if she will hear them amidst the storm, for while he does his best to control the tone of his voice, it truly sounds barely above a whisper to him. He does not know that this is because of his heightened senses from bundled nerves and that he is in fact managing a semblance of his true voice. The way she had phrased each piece together; had he been drowning within himself this whole time? Something I didn’t know I knew well. The details of her thoughts held weight with him, for it truly felt as if she were explaining something important to him. A mild sense of understanding dawned on him slowly, though with it came a spike in his adrenaline and therefore his fear.

It felt as if his nerves were on fire the more he thought and allowed himself the exploration of his own bodily senses. Isolation had been good for him, or so he had always thought, but it seemed to mean that his first interaction would be as much overwhelming as it was over stimulating. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was his future from now on, barely able to hold on to a conversation or interaction as they happened, feeling constantly unhinged and like he was still drowning. How do you keep breathing? The hushed question had a desperate, pleading quality to it, and he meant it in earnest. The stranger spoke of drowning in such an intimate way, surely she might know from prior experience just how to deal with keeping ones head above water. Even if the phrase could currently be applied to two different circumstances, regarding the raging river and his own raging consciousness.