Lyre diamáchi Laughter echoed down the ravine. While the landscape seemed more or less devoid of life (excepting a few hardy cedars and their saplings,) the noise must surely have been coming from somewhere. A listener would have to defy logic, not to look farther down into the valley below but instead farther upwards to the craggy ridge which towered above. Chunks of rock and clouds of scree clustered on the slope below, lending to the fact that this was not terrain you ought to be mucking around with. This meant little and less to Lyre, who had decided to play a game. The young fae had spent the better part of the day trekking up the slope, had amassed a new collection of bruises and bumps, all so that she could take in the view. Once arriving at the peak she'd spent a short while being blown away by all that lay below her... and then had promptly grown bored. After spending all that energy to mount the summit though, she couldn't just leave, though! So she'd decided to see how long she could balance on the highest point on only two paws. She wiggled and wavered, but it wasn't until a stiff breeze swept up the opposing side of the mountain that her laughter turned to curses. She hissed out her sudden displeasure, tail lashing frantically as she tried to regain her poise, but it was for naught. Her legs pitched out from under her and Lyre lurched to the side, angling desperately for the four foot drop off and not the plunging descent on the other side. She crashed down onto a jagged and fractured pile of stone, breath gushing from her lungs, before bouncing down another short fall. Her paws scrabbled for some sort of hold, and it was with a graceless floundering that she managed to halt her tumble before it got out of hand. Her head was spinning, her ears ringing, and she could feel the sting of myriad new cuts and scrapes. "Well," she wheezed out. "S'pose that could've been worse!" She laughed a deprecating laugh and tried her best to stand. "Talk" "You" Think

”Common language” ”Translated Finnish” She'd gotten where she was with the aid of countless curses and more than a few new cuts and bruises. Oddly enough, the latter had also earned curses of their own. Stubbornness had also played a huge part in it. Going back the way she'd come would be to quit. And she was not a quitter. A tremendous clattering from above sent her backpedaling in alarm for fear of getting bonked by falling rocks. She continued back, stumbling over things and hastily regaining her footing, until it became clear that what was falling was a bit more plush than a heap of stones. The voice that reached her ears immediately halted her progress. Sabine's pride, even though her heart was still in her throat, demanded that she smother all outward signs of fear, so with a deep, calming breath, the fae smoothed her feathers and recovered her confident facade. As she padded forward, the corners of Sabine's eyes crinkled in amusement and her lips lifted in a smirk. Sounds of movement -perhaps the person trying to regain their footing?- suddenly made it clear that the tumbler had landed below Sabine's current position. ”Indeed it could have been -you could have taken me down with you.” Oh, the horror. Reaching the edge, the fae leaned down on her elbows and rested her chin on the edge of the rock face. ”Tell me,” she paused and tipped her head to the side, ”Do you make a habit of rolling down mountains? I ask because I might come this way again and I want to be prepared in case there's a next time.” One corner of her mouth rose higher, her amusement evident. It crossed her mind that the stranger may have been injured by the tumble, but she was sure she'd find out soon enough.

Lyre diamáchiThe last thing she expected was to find someone else curious (or crazy) enough to climb to these heights. When a voice broke in on her mournful montage Lyre's head snapped upwards, craning farther up the slope, until she lit upon a massive fae. Lyre must have bounced right past her. Gods, she must have seen the whole thing! She was caught between fluffing up in prideful chagrin, and laughing her tail off, because from the stranger's vantage point she must have been pretty fucking majestic. She blinked rapidly before a laugh burst from her chest, and even when it ended in wheezing and wincing, Lyre maintained a smile. Okay, definitely broke at least one rib. "You'd be surprised to find," she began, answering sarcasm with sarcasm, "That my aim is usually much better. Next time you won't be so lucky!" She laughed again and righted herself, gingerly placing her weight on her hind right paw, which seemed to have taken the worst of her fall. The idea that this woman might come through this pass again, and knowing herself that this was a piss poor pass to begin with, forced Lyre to take an instant liking to the stranger. Either she had guts or was way too arrogant for her own good, which were two traits she admired in herself. As far as she knew, the best way to get to the lowlands on the other side of the range would take two extra weeks of zigging and zagging and really, who had time for that? "Where are you headed, if you don't mind a bit of tactless curiosity?" Lyre didn't bother with manners, any more than her own vague sense of courtesy required. Anyone who would risk their life on some jagged summit likely had no need for pleasantries anyways. "Talk" "You" Think

”Common language” ”Translated Finnish” A laugh from below rang out and Sabine adjusted her position modestly so she was facing the other directly. The tumbler was quick with a comeback, claiming to have far better aim than what she'd witnessed. What was this? A fellow smart ass? Sabine's eyebrows rose, her features twisting into an 'is that so?' expression. ”Alright,” she warned, ”But if you break some of this,” Sabine gestured vaguely at herself, ”You have to carry it down the mountain.” The stranger spoke again, parting with a humorously worded question. The corners of Sabine's lifted in a hint of a smile. ”No real destination in mind. I'm looking for my brother, Aki.” Her sightless gaze darted away as her expression shifted into one of mock chagrin. She sighed deeply. ”The bastard managed to escape his pit again.”