Blessed be the weak, would claim an Odsaar. If Najira were in Kharguid territories, his maintenance would be seen as an act of piety. But in these places? Where the shadows grow long, and desperation carves a white-hot bloody clawmark through the very souls of its inhabitants? Ideals had a way of waxing and waning. Empty stomachs had a habit of pilfering the mind.
Najira nuzzled in against Jon, as he jostled him closer. A needy little noise left his lips. It was clear that he wanted to hug one of Jon's arms, but tried his best to refrain.
"I was spliced in the womb." Najira admitted softly. The pool of stock to be spliced from was small, given his size. Most likely: Human. An uncommon choice, given the potential effects that had on the lifespan. Humans were short lived. Less hardy.
For the rest of the walk, he tried to not cling to Jon. But by the time the two entered the hostel, the poor thing was finally giving in just a bit, and hugging one of Jon's arms closer. Even transferring him to his shoulder was a little bit of a struggle: needy whines and a tightened hug, before a reluctant release.
Sinking in against the bed, now within Jon's quarters, Najira couldn't help but accidentally flash puppy-eyes up at him. All the way until he sat next to Najira and offered a canteen-- Something that seemed absolutely oversized in the spliced Kharguin's hands. He drinks, deeply. Maybe a little too fast, supporting the canteen with both hands.
As Jon settled next to him, Najira leaned in against the larger man's warmth.
Najira nuzzled in against Jon, as he jostled him closer. A needy little noise left his lips. It was clear that he wanted to hug one of Jon's arms, but tried his best to refrain.
"I was spliced in the womb." Najira admitted softly. The pool of stock to be spliced from was small, given his size. Most likely: Human. An uncommon choice, given the potential effects that had on the lifespan. Humans were short lived. Less hardy.
For the rest of the walk, he tried to not cling to Jon. But by the time the two entered the hostel, the poor thing was finally giving in just a bit, and hugging one of Jon's arms closer. Even transferring him to his shoulder was a little bit of a struggle: needy whines and a tightened hug, before a reluctant release.
Sinking in against the bed, now within Jon's quarters, Najira couldn't help but accidentally flash puppy-eyes up at him. All the way until he sat next to Najira and offered a canteen-- Something that seemed absolutely oversized in the spliced Kharguin's hands. He drinks, deeply. Maybe a little too fast, supporting the canteen with both hands.
As Jon settled next to him, Najira leaned in against the larger man's warmth.
