THIS IS WHAT THE THRILL FEELS LIKE | open

[jericho]

Jericho remembers his sibling, albeit not very well.  In the days of his youth he was always relatively distant from his immediate family for a myriad of reasons, but the end result was always feeling like he didn't know them.  He recalls other clanmates from the islands more vividly than he does his own flesh and blood and he often wondered if he was betraying them somehow.  The ginger tabby thought he'd gotten past that guilt a long time ago, but his sister's reappearance has brought those feelings bubbling back to the surface anew.  It's a much different sensation, facing the family that he hardly remembers and seeing (or in his case, more accurately hearing and sensing) how much they've grown and changed, how much time they've lost.  It's odd and kind of painful and it makes him remember that he wants to know his sister, he simply doesn't know where to begin. 

It's the smell of paint that draws him over, sharp and tangy on his tongue.  His sister's scent follows only after he he nears, less pungent and mingled with that of fresh wood shavings, but he hobbles forth nevertheless.  Jericho knows nothing of masks or blades nor most of which Warsongs thinks; blind as he is, he only knows what his remaining scents tell him.  "What... ah, what are you painting?" the ginger tomcat inquires softly as he pads to a halt.  The Helion keeps his distance slightly, hanging back a pace or two in his hesitance.  He's curious yet not entirely sure of himself, trying to get to know his sister but not sure how to start.  After a pause he decides to begin with a smile, both shy and kind, though his amber gaze is unable to focus on the feline before him.