a gale force wind || joining?

[ORPHEUS]

[align=center][div style="max-width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 1.4;letter-spacing:.1px"]Closeness in its entirety was something that Orpheus struggled with these days. It wasn't simply the idea of calling a place home, or even a person — it was allowing them close enough for anything like that. Luckily, his experience with madmen is a thing of the distant past, or... it had been. At least it had never been institutional, engraved into the very bones of his home. There'd been parts, but Brigand had taught him to tear down the worst of the world wherever he saw it. Those lessons were old and worn now; he was softer, more flexible — that didn't mean it wasn't a good thing he wasn't aware of Dorian's homeland. One person could only do so much, and he's not all that certain that he would go a little past sanding it down. Maybe he's still like his dad in that sense. Sometimes you couldn't fix things. Sometimes it just needed to be torn down.

He'd been taught that from the day his dad brought heaven's wrath (or hell's fury) down on the group that had put a collar around his neck. Taking notice of Dorian's almost makes him flinch too. Instead, a softly troubled expression crosses Orpheus's face at the larger lion's jest. "I guess you've already tried to take it off?" Absently, he rolls his neck and shoulders. Shaking of an unpleasant memory, perhaps. A moment later and his expression is warming again, the storm well behind him now. It'll catch up again one day, but for now he'll manage to joke for a while longer. "I'm sure you are — devastatingly handsome, that is — but we don't need your soul. Your charm'll do just fine." He shakes his head, trying to look disapproving but just amused instead.

The disapproval shatters even further when he laughs. It's short and bright; he barely manages an indignant, "Hey!" through it. Some of his protective posture behind Keyne relaxes, even if Orpheus isn't the best at trusting either. Maybe he's easily charmed, maybe he's just nice. "We happen to like this patch of dirt, Dorian of House Pavus." Once the lion settles back into his small smile again, he's better suited for a more serious conversation. "I'm Orpheus, and this wonderful patch of dirt is home to The Ascendants. You really should at least come inside to dry off."