Ithiel is by me!
The rumble of thunder seemed to be just above his head, and Ithiel would have believed it if someone told him it was simply coming from the second floor. The dust-colored coyote had a better explanation, of course: thunder was the noise of God in all his fury. Perhaps somewhere, someone of import had died. A noise nabbed the dark-furred hybrid's attention, and he lifted his muzzle, suddenly able to smell the rain and damp far more sharply than he had a moment before.
A dark figure appeared in the doorway, her muzzle streaked with crimson and her eyes brilliant yellow-gold, the same one carried by many of his cousins. Though she was bedraggled and four-legged, Sepirah was still pretty. Her petite features were almost perfectly coyote, Ithiel thought, though he had no experience with jackals to tell them apart. Cousin or no, the dark-furred hybrid was not too squeamish to recognize beauty in his bloodline, and therefore seek to protect it.
I did, the dusky man said, frowning. Not quite so badly, though. Ithiel had managed to avoid the worst of the storm, taking shelter within the mansion before it became too violent, but he hadn't been entirely spared dampness. Come sit by the lamps, he offered. Not as good as a fire, but I don't know that we can burn one in here.
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