It only began to brighten as Cyril heard Savannah's gleeful giggling from the reception front did it brighten. Cyril saw Fenrir on his back, wiggling side to side as the little girl scratched at his belly. His head pointed towards Cyril, but his eyes were closed as his tongue hung out in bliss. Even when she stepped through the doorway, and stood a foot away, Fenrir still hadn't reacted.
Savannah was about to greet her, but Cyril smiled and put a finger to her mouth. The girl nodded as the goddess got down onto her belly and laid her head next to Fenrir's. Then, she stared at him as Savannah sat back as she tried to hold back her laughter. For a few moments, Fenrir remained as he was before his ears twitched. His scratching had stopped and he opened his eyes, intent on figuring out why it had stopped. Only, he found Cyril's golden eyes staring into his silvery ones.
It was pandemonium for a few minutes afterward.
Fenrir had yelped in surprise and tried to roll to his feet. He rolled into the wall with a loud thud. The two girls began to laugh, but Fenrir still struggled to his feet. He thrusted for a moment before he was able to catch himself and huffed in embarrassment.
"I meant to do that," Fenrir declared with a huff and avoided Cyril's mirthful eyes as she silently giggled. Fenrir lowered his head in embarrassment, and the display earned him small kiss between his fluffy white ears.
Afterward, Cyril and the wolf both departed from the shop, which was Tenni's transportation business as she found out. From the few bits of information she heard, she surmised that Tenni was quite the prominent merchant. None of which interested her in the least. As they stepped back out onto the busy street, the sun had moved further west, and the shadows had begun to cover more than half the street.
Having come from the wharf, somewhat south, Cyril decided to head further norther into the city. Fenrir had offered no help in this decision, falling in line with the "Anywhere you want to go," excuse. That'd earned an eye roll from Cyril before Fenrir offered his back to ride. That'd had made her smile, and she took the offer before they entered thick of the crowd.
As it was afternoon now, more shops had put up more displays. Many of them some variation of red paper dragons, or black dragons painted onto red paper lanterns. Each of them hung from balconies and archways as the buildings varied in height. From one story to two, eventually, as the two wandered up the road, they found three-story buildings.
As they wondered, Cyril found that the crowd wasn't timid of being around her wolf. They kept a respectful distance and split around her. Some even gawked in awe, but very little was scared of the large lion-sized wolf. The reason became apparent when they'd stopped to eat at one of the large restaurants.
The shop had allowed "Familiars to pets who behaved", and thus, Cyril had gotten both of them a seat on the second-story balcony. The street bustled with many heads as humans went about their business. Most wore lightly dyed clothes, and most of them were commoners. This she could guess from when those who weren't passed near them. The nobles wore deeper colors and traveled with guards. Or maybe this was just those she noticed.
The sat alone as they waited for their meals. The balcony tables, four in total, were empty. Most of the patrons ate inside, where it was warmed by their bodies and food along with the kitchens. But it was louder inside than on the balcony, so both of them settled for this.
Down below, Cyril could see several noble-looking men and women. They were dressed in the blue robes of the Academy, and while most of them rode destriers, the head of the group rode upon a panther. Its glossy fur shined in the light faint sunlight as the crowd was quick to move around them without so much as a complaint. In fact, they looked even scared to be close to them, giving them a wider berth than they'd done for her. She found that observation interesting as nicely made clay plates thudded against their table.
For Fenrir, he'd gotten a large rack of ribs that'd costed a solid silver coin. It'd been grilled and slathered in spices and a brown sauce that even made Cyril take a second whiff. However, when she sampled it before Fenrir, she found it was... Not to her tastes. Her plate, on the other hand, had been just a bowl of grapes and red apples.
And when she bite into one of the grapes, the sweet juice ran across her little tongue in bliss. She gave a small moan as the taste washed over her. Yes, she had found that she only really tasted fruits and vegetables, or much to Layla's dismay, "raw" food in general. Somehow, the act of cooking the ingredients made it bland to her. She could still eat it, but she'd much prefer the VR pressure sensory than the bland food.
"So what do you plan to do from here?" Fenrir asked as he licked his lips. He'd already devoured one-fourth of his large beef ribs. The sauce temporarily staining his muzzle.
"I need to find everyone a Christmas gift," Cyril answered. "I can't just hand out my stuff. Desmond and Randol already had a meltdown when I gave them that Lash Wishy thingy." Cyril swirled a half-eaten apple in her hand as she spoke. Randol had been a nervous wreck and told her it was much too great to gift them to ease their father's wrath. She had done so when Mai had explained what'd most likely happen if they didn't come with something amazing. Thus, the orb was placed into their possession.
"Tranquil Last Wish?" Fenrir asked. Cyril gave a lazy nod as she was half distracted watching the flowing crowds below. "That, in of itself, is worth more than this nation. I would suggest not worrying about those noble kids then."
"Really?" Cyril shot him a curious glance.
"Really," Fenrir nodded seriously.
"Guess that solves their Christmas gift then," She shot him a smile grin, and the wolf chuckled.
"I think they'll be set on gifts for the rest of their lives," Fenrir replied. "The last Tranquil Last Wish was made during the Elven Wars nearly five-hundred years ago."
"Were the Elves fighting amongst themselves?" Cyril's attention now shifted fully to the wolf. "I mean, there were only three elf races."
"Three, yes, but none of them the same. Remember?" Fenrir asked. "You created the base elves, beautiful and elegant. They roamed the forests as their citizens. Then, you created the Dark Elves, citizens of the sand Wastes. Then, before you died, you created the High Elves, citizens of your mountain and the ones who tended to your grave."
"Yeah, about that." Cyril pointed her apple core towards him. "They've done a shit job at that. Everything was in ruins when I woke up."