Kirin walks for hours. Ash begins to rain down in a choking cloud, and he ducks his head into his hood in an attempt to breathe unobstructed. The hot, heavy air stifles all sounds, except the occasional cracking of newly downed trees. An intense feeling of solitude persists. Time seems to have been suspended, like reality itself is holding its breath.

At least, until he makes his way into a clearing to find two survivors struggling to stand. Quickly, Kirin hurries forward and offers his arm to the injured human, dipping his head briefly to both others in greeting.

He addresses himself to the elf, very aware that this is his territory and that Kirin is an intruder. A welcome one, perhaps, if he could make himself useful, but an intruder nonetheless.

"My name is Kirin. I'd say it's a pleasure to meet you, but, well...

Must admit, I wasn't really expecting the apocalypse today. Are there other survivors around? Or a village not yet buried in ash? We're going to need supplies, I think, and I don't know about you but I'm not carrying any medical supplies. And, ah, I could use some food too, if that's possible."

He stops rambling and lets his thoughts race silently instead, helping the wounded human pick his way through the ashy ground after the elf, who clearly has a destination in mind.

The apocalypse. That's what it was, really. What could even cause this? Kirin has never thought much about the gods one way or another, but surely something like this had to be caused by something Other, right?

At least he doesn't have to ask why Their wrath is upon them. People are awful. He huffs a quiet, bitter laugh and keeps walking.