Jericho's sleep schedule tends to be relatively steady, for he rises and falls with the sun each day, the warmth of its rays streaming through the window and onto his pelt waking him each morning. When he cannot sleep, however, he always finds himself on the beach. He tends to say that the ocean has always been his home, and it's true. The little tabby was born on the island chain and moved to the sun village later (which was situated by the sea as well); when he eventually left it was here that he was immediately drawn, and he knows it can't be mere coincidence. The crashing of the waves and the water lapping at his paws as he pads across the sand — it relaxes him on even the worst of nights when his mind won't stop racing through all of the things he's doing wrong. Tonight the tom finds himself returning from his midnight stroll, bathed in cool moonlight with white-tipped paws still damp with oceanwater. His feet just touch upon the boardwalk when the still night air is disrupted with a loud splash.
He halts immediately, surprised but not quite scared — despite it being the dead of night Jericho's first instinct is to investigate. The tiny feline approaches softly, with wide amber eyes and pricked ginger-furred ears. Despite his sightlessness he picks up the scent of the wildcat (and saltwater mixed with blood) and the sound of his breaths as he nears. By scent he knows the creature clearly isn't a Sunhavener, but Jericho hardly finds that to be an issue. There are more pressing matters at hand. "Do — ah, a-are you alright?" the Helion speaks up gently, hesitant at first. He lifts a paw as if to take another pace forth and then halts, allowing the cheetah some space. The male's brows furrow lightly, his typical nervously-offered smile missing in place of his concerned gaze, flickering about blindly. It's too bad he left his satchel in his house — though rarely without it, he hadn't thought he'd need it on his walk. Blinking, Jericho clears his throat quietly to add, "W-Would you like to come get those wounds looked at? I, um... I don't have any herbs or blankets on me, b-but we could go get some."
He halts immediately, surprised but not quite scared — despite it being the dead of night Jericho's first instinct is to investigate. The tiny feline approaches softly, with wide amber eyes and pricked ginger-furred ears. Despite his sightlessness he picks up the scent of the wildcat (and saltwater mixed with blood) and the sound of his breaths as he nears. By scent he knows the creature clearly isn't a Sunhavener, but Jericho hardly finds that to be an issue. There are more pressing matters at hand. "Do — ah, a-are you alright?" the Helion speaks up gently, hesitant at first. He lifts a paw as if to take another pace forth and then halts, allowing the cheetah some space. The male's brows furrow lightly, his typical nervously-offered smile missing in place of his concerned gaze, flickering about blindly. It's too bad he left his satchel in his house — though rarely without it, he hadn't thought he'd need it on his walk. Blinking, Jericho clears his throat quietly to add, "W-Would you like to come get those wounds looked at? I, um... I don't have any herbs or blankets on me, b-but we could go get some."