"The language, I think, Japanese," he shrugged, scratching at his head. "Not entirely sure, man. There were Buddhists in a couple packs I chilled with, and they bathed me in their words and terminology, yeah? 'Single flower of phoenix flame,' you dig? Like the Dahlian flower and Valley phoenix fire."
Razekiel could only nod at Ralla's explanations of their woes and efforts. Their situation was a truly troubling one, a trial difficult to overcome. Great tragedy and desperation lurked in the undertones of her lovely voice — surely her singing voice would be remarkable and beautiful when unhindered with such quests and trauma on her shoulders! — and the coyote understood well that they had been forced into a situation Ichika would be fortunate to avoid. They, like the AniWayans, were not warring people. Though the prince found it highly unlikely that some dark soul like Maska would ever seek to overthrow a place like Ichika no Ho-en, in his nods were confirmations to himself that such preparations needed to be performed. He would surely alert the pack's number of warrior ranks to such possibilities, and notify them of the plausible threat the southern tribe currently held with them. If they had reason to strike a peaceful, neighboring pack, what reason did they not have to attack one to the north with seemingly no defenses?
Overcome with emotion, the hippie removed his lenses and set to wiping tears from his eyes. "You speak with such dedication and strength, man, I can't take it," he babbled. "Your whole world is upside-down. I had no idea. We are far to the north, man, but you call on us if we can help. Ask for Razekiel personally, yeah?"
He reached into his satchel, pulling from it a small and beaded necklace. Stepping forward, Razekiel sniffled as he gently wove it over her ears and around her neck, then stepped back and nodded with great pride. "A gift, from Ichika no Ho-en, man," he said feebly. "It was meant for your leader, but this guy thinks maybe it fits this flower best instead."
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