It's filled with garbage, and lots of it, but that's the draw. Shiny and glittery. There's an abundance of glass things, shards sharp enough to dig into tender paw pads, but Itzal doesn't mind much. So long as he minds his own footing, that is.
And he does! He's a good boy, fantastic, easily dancing between each ragged metal shaving and glinting glass. His tail swings freely behind him, though it has an odd stutter to it, as though it's repeating the beating of his heart deep within his ribs. A strange, off key tune sounds in the air, echoing from inside the steer skull on his head. "There once was a wolfie named Itzal, who had only glass stuffs as his pal, well with much surprise, he fell for the lies, of humans that missed his arrival~!" Giggles, a bit too high in pitch and a bit too unhinged for someone sane, reverberate and bounce off of hollow metal and trinkets.
He loves the stories of humans, those creatures that most believed didn't exist to begin with. Itzal himself doesn't know where he stands on such theories, but he sure does love the sound of their names. Hyoo-mans. Hyoomans hyoomans hyooma-- oh?
His head lifts, tongue lolling as he sniffs at the air. There's someone else here. "Com-pan-ee?" he sings to himself, more hushed than before. He glances about, suddenly feeling nervous, and grabs at a glass bauble and hoards it with the protective cover of black paws. "Trinkets trinkets trinkets, this one's mine! This one. This one!" Did -- did he even really look at what he's claiming? Not really. Doesn't matter.
