She seemed so fragile and worn, poor thing. Golden ears were erect and attentive on top of his gold and cinnamon coated head, white tipped tail lost for movement as he tried to get contact with her. At first she seemed blank, but then recognition was seen in her face and the male tried to offer her a gentle, friendly smile. He studied the unique marking on her forehead. Time would hopefully answer the questions piling up. He was always fascinated by those who decided to mark their bodies with symbols. Cwmfen was the most unique individual he had seen, and Larkspur too had some mystical symbols branded into his flesh. Conor’s figure held nothing, but then again he did not believe in anything. He merely existed, but there was little culture and no religion tied to his life.
His smile brightened as she accepted his offer to help, and the healthy male executed the remaining distance between them, moving up to her side, moving slowly and with care. ”I’m Conor and you’re at the borders of Dahlia de Mai,” he spoke quietly, dipping his maw at her and allowing his lilac orbs to move to injured limb. There was little he could do in his lupus form, but it did not seem to be broken. Was hard to say though. ”What happened to you?”