There wasn’t a single cloud in the skies that night, Félicien noticed. He took in a slow breath, crisp fall air entering his lungs. Here in the North things were colder… but that wasn’t such a bad thing, really. The cold, feeling in general, reminded the man that he was alive. Sure he had regrets, who didn’t? But he was still alive. There was a chance to look forward to the future… however much of one he had left. Féli wasn’t scared of death… but he did wonder what it might be like when he died. Was there another realm to go to? Would he simply fade away? He supposed it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like he had often allowed such thoughts into his head anyway. He was searching for somewhere that might prove more sheltered from the elements when he stumbled across the ship. After finding himself in a room, and discovering the bed and blankets, Féli had made himself comfortable. But as he lay there on the bed he could see the twinkling of the stars on that clear night. It was almost like they were wishing him peace… and well, the man did feel a certain calm about his heart. Maybe, he thought, the next year would be better. He was sure he didn’t have much time left in this world… but he wasn’t going to squander it. He had to make his last bit of life worth something. It was time to get active once more and blow the dust off. He wasn’t through yet. ""

The wooden boards creak beneath her paws as she steps onto the ship. She'd underestimated the cold in the north, and so as dusk bleeds into the dark night, she decides that the strange structure would suffice as overnight shelter. Her claws tick against the cracked floors with every graceful stride, but Leera is otherwise silent as she noses her way into nooks and rooms. Above, the milky glow of starlight is enough to shed light on the ship as she searches it. In the back of her mind, she does question what kind of creatures would build such a thing, but the thought it brief. After a few more surveys, she comes across a dark, battered room with enough breakage that allows the night sky to seep through. It was obvious at once that she is not alone when she steps into the room. Leera freezes, hackles raising up slowly along her nape as her pink eyes fall onto the stranger: an old, dark-furred wolf who occupies the bed. For a moment, she just stares. She watches him as he watches the stars, observing the age that is obvious in his eyes. "It's almost as if they're taunting us, isn't it?" She surprises herself with the gentleness of her voice, but then again, she's always had a degree of respect for her elders. "The stars, I mean. They won't blink out for millions of years, but us... our lives are only but a second."

Felicien turned his attention as a voice reached his ears. He had been aware of the female as she entered the room… but he had seen no reason to address her until she had spoken. She didn’t appear to be hostile, at the moment anyway, though her words were something a bit curious. The old mercenary gave a slow nod; he had to agree with her. “A bit. Our lives certainly are much shorter than that of the stars… but that doesn’t mean they are not worth living.” The man focused what limited vision he had on the female, his words calm.

“I have no intention of just lying down and waiting for my life to fade out like one of theirs. I’m going down fighting.” The slightest of amused smirks appeared on Feli’s face. He had every intention of dying in battle rather from old age. “...You don’t strike me as the sort to just sit around either. What brings you out here to the North? Simple exploration or something more, Mademoiselle?”

When the old man does not meet her with aggression, she decides it's safe to fold her body down gently into a sitting position. There, she turns her pink watch to the stars that glittered just outside of the broken boards. The only indication that she is listening to the male's words is a single ear ticked back in his direction, taking in the wisdom of eleven years. He tells her that he has no intention of dying out like a dwindling flame, slowly weakening until there is no longer any heat or light but only a fleeting wisp of black smoke to tell of an entire lifetime. He is going to leave the world fighting. Leera smiles gently at the sky at these words -- an attitude such as his has always been something she's respected. Admired, even. "A noble cause, to live out your days until the very end. I intend to do the same." Death has always been something Leera has lived remembering. It's the ultimate end, the finality of everything, and it could be noble or it could be selfish or even cowardly. Which would hers be? She frowns slightly thinking of death, and a familiar unease washes over her. And still, she is years and years younger than the other soul in the room. "Can I tell you something?" speech action