Diarmuid was equal parts bored and restless tonight; he was used to having some sort of task, however small or difficult it might be, and now that he was without one he felt strangely unnerved. Part of him wondered if he ought to be searching for the rest of the Xanilov children, but most were already accounted for and the ones that were not, well.. they were well beyond the age of needing someone to look after that. It didn't make him worry any less, though. His anxieties were only further shaken up by the dense fog that hung heavy over the desert, clinging tightly to the sandstone. It made navigating through the desert - an already tricky task at night - all the more challenging. He was unused to walking along such terrain, finding various spots where weather had eroded the sandstone beneath him until it was as slick as wet stone, and he was cautious with each step so as to not lose his footing. He clenched his jaw as the night's breeze rolled in another thick cloud of fog, squinting against the wind. At least night brought cooler temperatures, and thus some relief to this desert; he wasn't fully used to these western lands, and had a feeling he might never be.

Agria wasn't usually one to travel at night but she too was restless this night. So what better to do than go for a walk? It may have been dangerous, the creatures that wandered when wolves didn't. It was almost as if she believed in some hooligan that stomped around and ate trees and shit like that. Something from out of this world that towered over everything. Maybe no one could see what it looked like but it just stared down at them from the sky with nothing but glowing red optics ready to suck your soul away... Just then, the glittering girl slipped on the sandstone beneath her and was thrown into the legs of another wolf. She screamed slightly from the surprise, but instead of apologizing she shot a look up to the male with a pouty face. "Hey! What's the big idea? Tripping pretty little ladies something you do for fun?" She stood to her paws and shook her pelt of sand and debris. She tried to make herself all pretty again  but her fur fluffed in every way. "Errr..." She groaned aggravatingly. She huffed at took a seat to look at the man before her, "What're you lookin at?" Walk "Talk" Think

Part of him was still brooding over the fact that he hadn't been offered a position in Celestial - not that he showed it outwardly, of course. He had no doubt that he would serve them well, as a quite valuable asset to the pack. But instead he'd been denied, and spent his time skirting around the borders, impatient and uneasy as fall made its presence known across the lands. Today, at least, he'd decided to do a bit of wandering and getting to know the lands around him. He was still quite unaccustomed to the desert, if he was being honest, and he knew by getting familiar with his surroundings would be the only way to feel truly at home here - as if, he thought bitterly to himself. As far as he was concerned, he only had one true home, and he wasn't sure if he'd ever see it again. His thoughts were disrupted quite suddenly, and unexpectedly, as he heard the sliding of claws against the stone. It wasn't long after that he felt a rough thud against his forepaws, and instantly he stiffened, brows furrowing for a split second before his features slackened. Still, he pulled away from the stranger, unable to hide his slight surprise at her excitable demeanor. "I do believe you're the one who tripped me. Or attempted to, at least," Diarmuid offered gruffly, his nose wrinkling in slight disdain. She hadn't actually tripped him, but it certainly could have happened. He shifted his forepaws as his gaze fixed on her, focusing on her in the dim light. Slowly her features grew more apparent. She was quite pretty, but that didn't make her sudden arrival any less irritating to him. "You were also the one staring first," he commented, hardly blinking. "So I could ask you the same thing." This was the most he'd talked in some time - he cleared his throat mid-thought. "Is this a normal hobby of yours? Sprinting about in the near-darkness when you can barely see your own two paws?" Quite a strange activity, but then again - he was out here too, wasn't he?

"Hm." She chuckled at his comments. "What, you don't like the admiration?" she clicked her tongue as she looked at him as if she were thirsty for something, Thirsty for him. But that wasn't true in the slightest. She just loved to be adored and noticed. To stick out, and that wasn't hard for her. She was always deemed a treasure by nearly everyone she met, even the blue girl from the ocean. The brute's size was now apparent to her, nearly a foot taller than herself, she was attracted to it. She was like a feisty little ball of fur, she needed a man of pure power and strength beside her. "I think you should have noticed a pixie like me." Pixie. Kaine's pet name for her... It was sticking even though she resented the male and his demanding behavior. But just as much as the resentment, she was starting to like the big ol' meanie. Seeing the fog floating around them, the brute was much harder to focus on than herself. "Like you have any room to talk." She stated with a playful smile, "Weren't you out looking for some company like I?" Walk "Talk" Think

Did he like the admiration? Well, he thought she was being a smart-ass more than actually admiring anything; he wasn't quite sure how to answer that question.  "I don't like it nearly as much as you do," he finally huffed back a bit sullenly. I do believe she's found the wrong male to tease, he thought quietly to himself. He wasn't much for admiring pretty women - it'd been a damned long time since he'd bothered with those sorts of thoughts - but she seemed inclined to change his perspective. Instead he merely frowned at her as she sized him up, wondering if he was imagining the way she was looking at him or if she really was looking at him like he was a piece of meat. "Hard to not notice you when you nearly tripped me." Okay, maybe she was pretty, but in no world would Diarmuid admit that to her. Her coat certainly was unique, and he furrowed his brows as he eyed her.  He'd never seen anyone with such a vibrant coat before and he found his gaze lingering for a longer moment than he expected. The truth was that she hadn't almost tripped him, but the least he could do was blame her for their collision since he was sure he'd been paying far more attention to his surroundings than she could even pretend she had been. "Nice try, but definitely not," Diarmuid replied evenly - his ears flicked in slight irritation atop his head. And yet he hadn't moved to leave yet. Perhaps an interruption to his quiet, solitary night wasn't such a bad thing, even if this woman was far from what he would've hoped to entertain him.  "I was preferring the peace and quiet, actually, if you're asking." Briefly he wondered what this interruption's name might be, but he was going to be the first one to ask - he didn't care that much.

"Aww, come on..." She pouted, "Don't you think I could be some fun?"  A grin splayed from one ear to the other, she wanted the brute to like her. He didn't have to fall to his knees and beg for his desires though that didn't sound too bad to Agria. But she just wanted him to tell her how pretty she was and how he'd "never seen anyone like her" as everyone she came across mentioned. "I could always just... take a walk with you." she purred in a way that didn't really fit in with her offer. "I don't have anywhere I need to be... I doubt you do either." She looked up to the fogged and fuzzy moon above them as if pointing it out. No one would be wandering around in the dead of the night if they had someone back at home. It was all the truth, and Agria would have liked the company regardless of how this man felt. At least he wasn't drooling over her and taking her like some... The scars on her back that she had long forgotten the pain and ugliness. She loved herself, for the most part, and that was all that mattered, right? Walk "Talk" Think

He realized suddenly amidst his staring that she was considerably younger than him. She was quite clearly less than half his age - something that hadn't been immediately apparent in the near-darkness. Her question about if she could be fun earned a simple scoff from him; he fought the urge to roll his eyes at the ridiculous thought.  "Something like that," he mumbled in half-hearted reply. His posture had slackened, just slightly, but he remained visibly wary as he regarded her. She seemed quite insistent, and truthfully being entertained by this very pretty (but very strange) woman didn't sound like the worst thing that could happen to him tonight. In fact, he could come up with quite the long list of things that would definitely be worse - though being alone sounded nicer in his mind, he wasn't one for arguing. Especially with a damsel who seemed more stubborn than he was. Instead he merely shrugged and trudged on, through the thick fog that clung tight to the earth. After a moment he turned to face her again, cocking an eyebrow. "If you're going to follow me, don't you at least want to know my name?" Diarmuid's voice was gruff, though without much hint of emotion. It was just as likely that he was pleased as much as he was annoyed, though his scarred visage betrayed little of either emotion.

As he started off, she would follow. Maybe too close for his comfort but she didn't care. She would actually hop a few steps, be horrendously close to his hind side, and fall back a stride or two until he turned to look at her. Raising her own brow, she would also act like she wasn't just up his ass. She chuckled at his remark, she cared little to know his name. If anything she could  have made a nickname for him but it was hard to chose one right away. It was dark and he was a rather serious wolf for the most part. "You think a name is important, do you?" She poked her nose at him, if anything barely touching his thigh. "Your face tells a better story already," she refereed to his scars that were littered over more than just his face, "A stranger to a stranger, you really think we'll meet again?" It was funny how her own scars seemed to go unnoticed by her. This guy was looking all big, bad, and tough. But she always saw herself as beautiful which may be why she had learned to live with the fact she was marked. "Agria." She mentioned with a smile to meet his needs, "Is what I go by." Walk "Talk" Think

Diarmuid wasn't oblivious to her strange manner of following - every so often he glanced to the side to eye her inquisitively, though decided her antics were simply odd rather than worrisome. It was hard to discern whether she was trying to irritate him or amuse him, and he was decidedly neither, instead hanging somewhere between the two. Even when she nosed his flank, he hardly flinched; he was fairly certain now she wasn't going to try to attack him, and even if she decided to, she was much smaller and not much of a threat, in his mind. Her comment made him snort softly.  "Names are important. Even self-given ones," he answered simply. Even if she gave him a false name, or a nickname, it would tell him something about her - family names told even more, as did whether wolves chose to acknowledge them or not. Perhaps they didn't tell the whole store, but they were far from pointless in his mind - even if his scars, as she implied, told much more.  "But my face tells a story in a language you don't speak, so at least my name will give you something you can understand," Diarmuid grumbled simply. No matter what she guessed, or what sort of brute she thought he was, he was fairly certain she would never be able to grasp the totality of it.   Would they meet again? He shrugged a bit absently at her question.  "Maybe. Maybe not," came his simple response.  "But at least if I decide you're worth remembering, the story will be easier if I know what to call you." Diarmuid let out another soft snort.  "And my name's Diarmuid," he replied, putting her name - and face, though that was hard to forget - to memory.