Kong & Open to anyone - at the table, close to the beginning of dinner
He was far from a social butterfly, far from it actually. Raised in a small village where he had known each person for who they were, he found himself straying from that similarity here. Without an idea as to why, knowing he needed to rely on these people more as he once used to, Kong made himself join in the dinner that particular evening. Frame rigid, uncomfortable, he picked up on the smallest sounds that many without an enhancement of hearing would not be able to pick up on. Peals of laughter, utensils scraping plates, bowls, the purity of the fellowship was unmistakable.
Having only been with the group for a short time - a year seemed to stretch on faster than he’d realized it - he did his best to acclimate, find a few kindred spirits, and do his best to continue his teachings.
Standing a few steps from where others were dining, unsure as to where even to begin, he listened to any sounds and sought any scents that might be familiar or friendly. Finally, scolding himself, Kong took a step forward only managing to bump someone without realizing it. He had been so caught up in himself and the moment that his walking stick had betrayed him. “Oh!” He breathed, shaking his head, “My apologies.” Voice was soft, barely audible over the cacophony of sounds.