The fox had been rather quiet - uncharacteristic of him, for a while. It seemed gods could indeed come down with a very bad cold for a while. But something else also hindered his mood - his brother. The worry he had for his older brother (older by like a second) was great, unbearable. He couldn't do much except for hunt or just clean around his treehouse. But enough was enough, he was going to go exploring, he was going to find his brother and stop the worry.

As he walked the desert he heard it. A shrill cry, someone in pain. But the name they screamed was enough. A sharp 'Jerikol!' was enough. It was him. The voice was all too familiar. The fox raced, fur flattening into leathery skin, body slowly changing with the stress. But he was going to be too late. No, he wasn't. Yes. No. Yes. No. Shadows stretched around him. Yes. No. Yes. No...

[color=#cd00cd]"No..." The words passed through sharp teeth and the partially scaleless dragon fell to his knees at the sight too gruesome to tell. Something scrawled on the paper next to the body, and with fading vision he read it in shaking claws. 'You've made yourself a target, here's why.' and a simple 'X' signature. As his vision went black the dragon let out a low groan, a creak, a sob. Then it felt for books, and only found three.

Jerikol began to dig, for none could see what he had to see now that he was the only one to see it. He dug and dug and then carried the body into the sandy grave, finding rocks and piling them atop the lynx before laying the sand back on. All the while his leathery skin and sparse dorsal scales shifted in shades of purples and blues, darker and darker, lighter and lighter. His four deer-like antler horns were suddenly white like frosted branches as he ran a claw over the books. Eltrous' favorites. Claws touched cold bottle and a feather point. His inkwell and quill.

All of his things, once his brother's and now his own. But did Jerikol deserve them, did he earn them?

//tl;dr - Jerikol, finally recovering from a nasty cold-like illness, goes to try and find his brother. Out in the desert he hears his brother scream his name. He arrives at the scene were Eltrous, his brother, is murdered by someone, their name only being X. Jerikol, having turned into a blind, mostly scaleless dragon, buries his brother and feels around his brother's old possessions. Currently he is sitting within the outer third of the desert, closer to the border but still a good ways away from it. //

Thin limbs moved in jerky moments, head swiveling in a doll-like manner as the blind beast faced Dante. As his crying settled he seemed to simply 'stare', scales finally settling on a tannish color while the leathery skin that wrapped around his skeletal body was a lighter tan. There was no reaction to the harshness, just a huff. As he heard Gael approach and clarify his identity, he stood in jerky motions. Jerikol felt around more, finding his way to his old mask. Hopefully he would revert back soon, once his emotions checked out.

[color=#cd00cd]"I.. I was going to try and find my brother." Familiar voice scratchy with lack of use, faltering as he sat down again. [color=#cd00cd]"I found him, but... someone found him first. They weren't a pittian." Claws felt for the note and he gripped it. Someone was going to pay.