Walk ? "Talk" ? 'Think' Ah, solitude. It gave the tempest such a great feeling within her chest, as if birds were fluttering in a cage, wishing to be freed, but also to be protected. Except, this slate stained mistress did not want to be protected, or undermined in any way possible. There was such simplicity in this land, an elegant cliff in the open of the sunlight, which in turn would reflect off the cresting waves in the cerulean depths of the sea. It all worked together in such exquisite harmony. The sound of the ever-impending waves. The slate tempest's pads ached from her long journey to escape the demise of her clan, the Nocturne. Her mother had died while protecting her from a war that her clan had succumbed to so quickly, splitting the clan into smaller and smaller halves until only her family remained. Although this seemed terrible, she would not dwell upon her mistakes of journeying across the borders of a hidden world, which in turn ignited a war that had been asleep for many generations. It was a new life, "A new generation." A sigh sounded from the inky lips of the tempest, as she lie down amongst the wildflowers, feeling the cool dew among the small of her back, and her banner thumped on the ground contently. A thought would occur to the tempest to rebuild the Nocturne, and bring them to their former glory, but perhaps that would be a stale mate, as she was in no condition to fight, and she had little formal training, though she had a bit of experience.

The hulking mass pushed his way through the brush with little regard as to where he was going, little regard as to where he had been. He was hungry, it was winter, and sooner or later night would fall. That was all that mattered. His dark form prowled alone, his physical body maintaining a steady rhythm while his mind roamed the hills and valleys of his memory. He lived in days past, in moments far beyond his reach and growing murkier with every passing day. He sighed, a low grumbling sound akin to far off thunder. The season was beginning to wear on him, and he urged it to pass quickly. As if it would listen. The gods rarely did, he'd come to find, and that garnered no spare affection within him. the wind turned against him, and slowly he came to a stop. He'd been following a trail of ocean wind for the better part of an afternoon, but now it intermingled with something else. Someone else. He ground his teeth narrowed his eyes. Perhaps he should turn the other way... The man was in no mood to converse with anyone, to suffer their follies, and yet his stomach ached with hunger. Oceans meant tide pools, fish, flotsam... He pressed on. When he finally did break from the trees he was met with a faint silhouette, a gloriously smooth horizon... and a cliff face. "Oh, you've gotta be shitting me!" he growled, stalking forward until he stood at the edge of the world. He peered down, the dizzying height taunting him. The wolf who stood not but a dozen lengths away was far from the forefront of his mind, as the brute realized his hopes of an easy meal had fallen away. "Talk" "You" Think

Walk ? "Talk" ? 'Think' As a male approached, the slender female noticed the skinniness of him. Obviously he was perturbed by the fact of a massive cliffside, when sharp cussing broke out into her auditories. The tempest's figure would rise from the terra firma, as her figure ghosted toward the male, her peridot orbs shimmering in the light of the sun. "Looking for a meal, sir?" Peridot irises were hidden for a moment as she gave a small and playful chuckle before she would motion for the brute to follow, and began to stride off. Slender appendages led the slate hued tempest down the cliffside until a thin passage was revealed to her orbs. The tempest would not glance up to see if the brujo would follow or not, as she carefully stepped down from the top of the pass to stand on the narrow corridor. Banner would rise slowly for balance, as her bodice would lean against the rock for support, each pad reaching out to test the rock if it would hold before stepping. It was a slow process, but surely she reached the gorgeous shoreline. Only recently had the mistress arrived in Alacritis, but she knew how to traverse difficult landscapes. In every salty sea, thrived many fish, and those fish provided excellent meals when game was short, such as now, in the full of winter. A smile would spread upon the tempest's lips as she stood in the water, up to her pasterns, scanning for any movement below the surface, of any small fish or crab along the coastline. Ears remained perked, however, should the brute have followed her, waiting for a reply.

The creature spoke. Lyon took a moment longer to glare over the precipice before turning slowly and locking the stranger in his vivid gaze. A female. Calm and quiet, chuckling... at him? That settled ill in his stomach, though her words did stir a certain interest within him. Food... And yet, he didn't know this woman. What was her angle? Gods above, he didn't even know her name, but he was supposed to followed her towards the edge of a cliff? She might be some sort of sadist, for all he knew. The man scoffed, and answered in a gruff baritone. "I can find a meal myself, thanks all the same." The woman was not a small wolf by any means, but even she was dwarfed by his own gargantuan stature. It was something he had grown used to over the years. More often than not he was looked on in fear, and for that he was grateful for his father's blood, if little else. Sometimes he was challenged by little pissants who thought his size meant nothing, but they were wrong. They all disgusted him, either way. This fae seemed to reside in neither camp, but it softened him none. She was strange, and he wanted nothing to do with her. Without another word he began treading slowly back to the tree line. It wasn't worth the climb down, anyways. With his bulk, a narrow cliff side trail was more likely to kill him than lead him to a meal anyways. He began walking the woodlines, trying his nose against the soil, searching out rodent or game trails, even birds if he could. The snow wasn't so thick as to impede his movement, but it still crunched beneath his massive paws. Doubt the dumb rodents will notice, stupid fuckers, he thought to himself, and that brought a smirk to his lips. As if he needed the fae's help anyways. "Talk" "You" Think

Walk ? "Talk" ? 'Think' The large male had refused her offer for an easy meal, likely of the precarious pass that it would involve for such a large male to traverse. However, she would not be stopped in her helpful demeanor, as a fish would rush past her spread out appendages, and her sharpened ivories snapped at the creature, bringing it up from the waters, whilst still struggling to escape. A few meters would be used as the tempest sauntered off to finish the meal, a clean bite to the gills. Peridot gems would look up at the male, who had seemingly disappeared, but his scent still mingled with that of the salty sea air. She could not let this male starve, even if he were a stranger to herself. About fifteen minutes later when the tempest had picked her way back up the precarious pass, the fish firmly in her jaws, where she would stop in front of the male to present the meal to him before walking off a distance to give him some space, as not to seem intrusive. Even if he wouldn't thank the tempest, her voice flowed onto the wind anyways. "You're welcome." Peridot gems looked over at him once more before she gave a small chuckle of playfulness. Once more, vivid lyrics would flutter from her lips. "You may call me Nocturne Illum-Abyssus II, but Nocturne or Nocty works as a shorter version, if you will." She would not mean to be rude and lie down contently, peridot gems twinkling as they sought out a reply from the large brujo.

Lyon hoped that he was rid of the stranger now. In fact, as soon as she disappeared over the edge of the cliff, she also disappeared from his thoughts. He was far more focused on other things, more important things, like feeding himself. If she wanted to go traipse down an icy, snowy, windy cliff to play in the frigid surf, well, she was welcome to it. Lyon focused himself on the task at hand. He realized that perhaps luck had turned against him, when the sound of stones clattering and muffled paw steps drifted to his audits on the wind. His face soured into a grimace, but he refused to turn and acknowledge her. Did she have nothing better to do? He had half a mind to chase her off himself if she was going to- He froze. What was that smell? He stayed frozen, monolithic in his stillness, even after she deposited a middling sized fish at his feet. The woman at least had the graces to move into her own space after that, but it still rankled him a bit, somehow. What, did she think he couldn't fend for himself? He was no weakling, he didn't need her to care for him. And yet, there before him, sat a meal. She wouldn't have had time to tamper with it surely, and it smelled fresh... He flashed a quick glance at her before moving to begin his meal. It went down smooth and satisfying, but gone all too fast. It would be enough for the next day or so. As he licked his lips, the woman began to speak. She introduced herself, but only after a quip, trying to draw at his gratitude. Lyon remained voiceless. He asked nothing of her, her actions were her own. He'd as soon thank her for breathing. Her name followed shortly after, and to that he sighed out a necessary response. "And I am Lyonovei Nikolai Volkov," he said, but finished his title in his mind, Bastard prince of a dead king. He made no mention of what he would call her, for if it was up to him he would call her nothing at all. "Talk" "You" Think

Walk ? "Talk" ? 'Think' After she had given the now named male some room, he had hungrily ate the fish, which was met with a smile of good feeling for helping the male, though he didn't seem too grateful... In fact he seemed the opposite. Perhaps this was one of the wolves whom accepted help, but was not very helpful in return. Fluid words would come from the male's lips as he spoke of his name, in a rather agitated manner. A sigh would rush from her lips before she realized she was speaking. "If you aren't going to thank me for helping you out, then you can just tell me to leave." Even though the slate tempest would leave this decision open to the brute, she would push her hinds upward to stand and began to slowly pad toward the pass once more, but this time to leave the periphery of the male if he desired so. Peridot gems twinkled in the failing light, her slate pelt now stained a brilliant sapphire hue with slashes of dying light, dark crimson. 'What an ungrateful bastard.' The thought seemed to almost form upon her tongue, but soon would dissolve, splitting to the furthest recesses of her mind.

The woman's voice, tinged with displeasure, grated upon his ear drums. He was thankful for the fish, but why would he thank her? She had brought it to him, but that seemed of little consequence. He was completely capable of feeding himself. If his limbs had been broken, his sight taken from him, his ears ruined then yes, perhaps she would earn his gratitude. But as it happened, she had acted on her own volition to serve him. Before he knew it, his jaw had unhinged. "I'd as soon thank you for breathing. You might have noticed I was finding my own meal, of which I am completely capable. You acted on your own will, fae. I thank the earth for this fish, and disdain her for this season, all of which has nothing to do with you." It was selfish of her, really, to expect him to grovel. Did she think so much of herself? There were a plethora of helpless wolves in the world, subjected and burdened. If she wished to do some good she should hunt them down, as he was. As it stood she was wasting her efforts, her precious moments of life, on someone who didn't need it. It disgusted him. Why on earth an able-bodied wolf would be so apathetic was... was... He sighed, and shook his head. He was starting to make himself angry, and he was in no mood for a fight. "Talk" "You" Think