[ Reynir feels some reassurance, when Onni reminds him of his promise not to let him go feral. For a moment he opens his mouth, about to ask if they should make more concrete plans to bond. It's an assumed thing now, between them. But Onni has made no practical steps towards it, and the few times Reynir has tried to bring it up, Onni was always busy and distracted and waved it off. Reynir knows it was just contextual, but all the same, it's left him hesitant to really make plans.

And that hesitancy wins. They still have time. Plenty of time. The horns appearing may be a wakeup call, but matters are not anywhere near urgent, yet. He should let Onni enjoy his freedom while he can. ]

I do like them! But that doesn't mean I want to be one!

[ There's a note of petulance in Reynir's voice that even he can hear, and he sighs, shoulders slumping. He twists his braid between his hands, an unconscious nervous gesture. ]

I just said it figures because... I guess it's like even here, so far away in such a strange place, I'm still... tied to this life everybody assumed I was supposed to have. Staying on the farm, looking after the flock, never thinking about the outside world, never... really helping anybody or learning anything.

[ The ache in his chest talking about it is a familiar one, but eased by the knowledge that he wasn't letting all that hold him back, in their world. He was going to live the life he wanted, even if nobody thought he should or that he was capable of it.

Reynir pads over to the couch, sinking down and looking up at Onni. ]

I suppose it could be worse. I'm not going to get tentacles or - fangs or claws or anything. Just a lot of hair and like, hooves. Though according to this person I talked to, I'm gonna start being freaked out by fire, so that's... something we might need to deal with.