volatile, a wave of rash emotion consumed the beast. disgust, first and foremost, mingled with heinous self pity and then finally confusion. he had known at the time that it was necessary for him to leave his family for his own safety, but now here he was - alone and nothing to do. he had no purpose, but he needed a purpose. of course he knew his father would be pleased with him being out of the family business, everyone had always wanted a different path for him. it seemed like they finally won out in the end. or at least for now. left without a purpose - left him to sink eventually to violent means. and while he was for violence only when necessary, his boredom often left him no other choice. he had no enemies to eliminate, his desires had been sated for now. of course, he had urges - but he was fully in control of his. a moment was taken to pause a take note of his surroundings before he continued on. wandering aimlessly. no angel present to distract the male from his sinful wishes. " speech "

Any other child in her predicament would've likely been overwhelmed by sadness, by loneliness, even by anger -- it was hard to not to feel hateful when one's father had been taken as a prisoner. He had left them in the midst of spring, and now winter was fully upon them, and no word had been given. But Ara would not brood for too long on her or her family's misfortunes, but instead she would delve into her chosen profession with all the diligence a girl who was still child could muster.

But the winter was frustrating for the young healer, and she found herself quickly frustrated; not by her father's disappearance, as would be expected, but at the lack of fresh herbs and her own insufficient knowledge. It seemed the meadows and fields had retained little plant life upon winter's arrival, and so she set her sights elsewhere -- to the forests, which she knew were thick with vegetation and life, at least in the spring and summer months. It seemed a reasonable guess, and so she would find the darkness of the woodlands and redirect herself toward the treeline.

As she drew near, the air grew humid and thick with fog that she had not noticed before. The humidity made the air all that much more bitter, and she found herself drawing her head closer to her chest as she walked, her stance guarded and careful. Ara had learned quickly that gathering herbs could be dangerous -- it took her to places like this. The landscape would change as the treeline grew thicker, the flat terrain changing as roots seemed to spring out of the earth all around her, lined with thick moss despite the season. The girl hardly even noticed the presence of another before it was too late to ignore it, and she would swivel around to face the man that stood no more than a few yards away. Silence would reign supreme as she stood, quite uncertain in her stance, unsure what kind of creature he might be.

He hadn't been alone for long before he was soon joined by another. Ammon was always cautious before engaging with others, he liked to know what he was getting into. Dark brows raised as he assessed the girl. His gaze was unforgiving as it swept over her bodice - it offered now apology for being crass. Where he was from women were objectified or just means of passing the bloodline on - once they gained mother status, they also gained respect but that was those in the family. Those outside family weren't privy to the same liberties. His eyes lingered a few seconds longer before finding her face. He turned away, only showing her his marred side. It was always a thrill to gauge the reactions of shock and sometimes horror when one was to gaze upon his scarred face. He took a few moments to see if she would say anything, before he opened his mouth. It would seem he had no choice but to engage in conversation, she was already so close to him. Ammon didn't want to seem anything less than reserved and courteous. " Ciao, bambolina, cosa ti porta qui? " Hello, little doll, what brings you here. His Italian tones were hushed but strong. " I find it peaceful out here, " His words were dominated by a thick Italian accent. He was still not one of many words, but he could alternate between his native Italian and English quite smoothly." speech "

The thick fog was eerie, and she felt a sinking feeling in her chest as her gaze swept across her surroundings. There were few plants here at all, let alone ones familiar to her; and though she was convinced the thick moss that seemed abundant here might have some kind of benefit, she couldn't be sure what it might be useful for.

But her attention had been arrested from her task at hand. Slowly and carefully she would lay eyes upon the ebony brute. Though he was quite intimidating, much larger than her and certainly stronger, she did not retract from where she stood. Even as he tilted his head, revealing a grotesque scar, she did not flinch -- perhaps surprising for a child so young and meek. Instead, she felt a tugging desire to tend to his scar, a need to heal and nurse his deformed face back to perfection; but she knew such a scar could never be fixed. It was not an open wound that she could tend to. Brows would furrow slightly, and she felt her heart lurch as she thought of her father. No frown adorned her features, but her nose wrinkled as she tested his scent.

"I.. I'm sorry, but I don't understand," she would offer quietly, her voice hardly more than a whisper. The silence of the forest was thick, and she found no need to raise her voice. His lyrics were strange to her, but not altogether unpleasant. "It is different," she noted unsurely. "But yes, peaceful." A gentle smile painted her youthful features, before she opened her jaws to speak once again. "My name is Ara."

It was his own fault for slipping into that which he was most comfortable, his native Italian tones. Often reserved for talking to those who spoke the same language. In retrospect, it had been quite rude of him. So, he offered a slight nod - he was not one to apologize over trivial things such as feelings. " ah, i suppose i forget that this is not my native homeland. " He relaxed a bit more as the conversation progressed. there was no need to feel so tense as she was only a child. a ghost of a smile tugged at his maw but only twitched into a slight smirk. He could almost feed off of her youth as he observed her. Ammon did hold slight surprise that she held no comment about his scar, but if conditioned properly - he suspected that her response was appropriate. Never giver a stranger something to work off of. His accent didn't prove to be much of a problem as she responded to him. " It is good that you see beauty in things that are dark and different. it will benefit you someday " Sticking to English, his tone was austere and somber. It was a simple statement, he hadn't meant to profess a proverb. Ammon switched to his more charming self, how was he to extract information if he was volatile and brutish. " Ah, mio dolce Ara, such a lovely name. " My sweet Ara. He whispered gentle, carefully as he watched her. " I am called Ammon, someday that information might be quite valuable - it is in my homeland " He spoke cryptically, but softly still. It was still quite. Interaction had happened so scarcely on his journey to this land that he had almost forgotten how to interact with other. But he was slipping into a dark comfort in this conversation with Ara, Ammon did manage to keep his guard up - always on the alert. It was hard to tell who to trust. " speech "

Though she was a rather reserved girl, often finding conversation with strangers far more difficult than she ever anticipated, she truly did enjoy the company of new faces. And yet despite this man's pleasant -- albeit somber -- facade, she had a feeling she ought to be wary around him. This one was older than she, though nowhere near as old as her parents; but still far from a child.

"I have never heard a tongue different than my own," she would profess quietly, voice nearly quivering with unabashed awe. It was strange, but upon further consideration she realized how lovely it sounded. She'd heard of wolves from far-away lands, and she knew that the number of languages that were spoken were far higher than she could ever count, and yet hearing one still took her by surprise.

Behind her small frame, her tail would sway where it lay limply at her hocks. "Sir, there is beauty everywhere," she said quietly, though her words were firm and serious, even if he thought her words naive. "But it is not always easy to find." How many nights had she lay awake, wondering if her father was dead or alive. And though she still didn't know, she had found a way to grasp a piece of hope and was determined to not let it slip away from her. She was wise for such a young girl, and yet so ignorant to the true horrors of the world. They were merely shadows, dancing in the background of her mind, nothing solid or tangible to her.

"It is nice to meet you, Ammon." Her mother had taught her to be polite and kind, nearly always, and it was rare that she strayed from what she knew in her heart was right and just. "Why might that be valuable? Are you a King?" Briefly curiosity would flood her sapphire gaze, eyes widening at the possibility of speaking to such a man, and yet she would retract again and stifle her eagerness, unwilling to let wonder get the best of her.