"I will see."
The corners of his lips curl up as he hears the snort coming from the winged male’s direction. It may have been faint, Brynmor’s hearing is good enough to easily recognize the sound against the whirling of the wind. Even though he had meant it as a joke, to humour himself slightly, there was no denying that he had been right. Breaking ice was harder – even when you could see – than using snow to lessen your thirst. And Hurricane’s words only confirmed it. ”Then I’ll have to learn to be most grateful of the snow” he replies, the grin still on his lip.
The voice of his friend – the one in his head – is as normal to him as any other. It has been there as long as Brynmor can remember and he doesn’t question it. Sure, Shaytan had said something about him talking to the air, but he had easily brushed those words off. He doesn’t notice that he’s the only one conversing with the voice, none of the others seem to talk to his friend or acknowledge his presence. It should all have been signs to Brynmor that something’s off, yet he doesn’t question it, as it’s a part of him that he had yet to face.
The blind man’s attention is focussed solely on Hurricane – okay, also a little to his surroundings, to make sure he isn’t bumping or tripping into and over obstacles – and he’s eager to learn about this magic. He nods, keeping silent for a moment as he still follows the winged king. ”I will have to enter them once too” he then states, ears pricked into Hurricane’s direction to make sure he won’t miss the male’s reply.
"Through your secret."