Kaizuul watches Pres curiously for a moment, noting the way his form lays weight upon the sturdy rails, the way his fur is caressed by the wind, the way it flows in synchrony with his own…
He looks him over in search of reassurance that he is physical, someone real, not a trick of magic meant to deceive him. He realized previously that he looks at Press from time to time with a weary eye - Perhaps out of a subconscious suspicion of Djinn magic. But this time, in the dreamy hours of this night, he does not catch himself looking. The thoughts captivate him.
Then, in an unusual move coming from Kaizuul, he finds himself reaching out to Pres with compassion and the need to push aside his own fears. He places a delicate hand between Pres’s ears and runs his fingers through his soft fur, gently smoothing it in a comforting gesture.
Silky smooth as the breeze, Kaizuul’s hand strokes through his fur and his own suspicions settle. But the moment hardly lasts, suddenly, the even tempo falters and he pulls his hand away almost too quickly.
Kaizuul breaks his gaze and looks back out over the ocean.
“I-… Sorry, I don’t know what’s come over me… It felt right for a moment there and…”
“Look, this journey can only be good one way or another…. Answers, even when they aren’t want you want are better than the torment of uncertainty.”
