It had been a trying season, and much to his daughters chagrin he had once again traveled back to the west. Yes, she was the only family he had after the loss of his wife and son, but her constant worry for him was tiring. So it was to the avian estuary he went, a place of great song and beauty.

Here the silver man would sit, his amber gaze losing itself in the trees where families of birds nested. Even in the winter it seemed the birds refused to leave, seeing as the west was probably the warmest terra they could find in Alacritis. His mind would take him to the home of each bird, wondering how they could all stay so entranced in their own lives without having to worry about drama, war, and the troubles of the civilized life.

Flamesong imagined himself as a raven with wings that spread over all of the land. His eyes would look down and see all of his beloved; the ever fought for lands of Valhalla, his daughter and only family member Melody, Qanik...and it was on her face he would rest, wanting to know every thought that ran through her head.

Why was he so caught up in her? Had they not only met a few times before he had fled from the earthquake? Why had he handed his heart over to her so freely? Perhaps he was just lonely. Perhaps the idea of dying alone was just too much for the aging man.

The brute would sigh, allowing his bulky chest to fall onto the soft ground of the estuary, his paws spreading beneath him in a bout of exhaustion. Perhaps what he needed was just some time to himself to merely consider his options. And with this thought, his flaming opticals fluttered closed in a waking sleep.

Here she was an apparition. Here she was a danger to herself and she wasn't as stable as she once had been. That was, perhaps, what bothered her the most. Why couldn't she just swallow the damn pill and stay put? For so long it had been her obsessed with finding the other half of her life that she had been stolen from at such a young age. When her mother had finally revealed to her and her brothers what the rest of their life was and would ave been...they had set off to find it. It was what had driven them, and naturally, she had finally found what she was so strong willed in...and then crumbled at the site. Pathetic. Vriel, when had you grown so weak?

A sigh withdraws from behind her inky lips and her eyes charge downwards. The ground wasn't very...pretty at all. Thus were the winter months. A roll of her shoulders is elicited as the scent of another emerges to her senses. He...was not someone she knew, then again; that was not saying anything for she knew no one. Especially in these lands. Her brothers and the bits of family she had been made aware of were the extensions of her meetings. She didn't want to intrude on him and his silence. He probably had something on his mind. He probably had real problems. He probably wasn't pathetic.

She was making it worse.


Her eyes fell on him and she watched him. He looked calm and like he didn't really have much to worry about in the world. It must be nice...She wanted to run to him and beg he tell his secrets. Beg that he give her the key to look so peaceful. Was it that easy? A breath? Maybe fresh air was what she was after...She did...need to go that way. He was going to think her odd, yet she didn't care. For a moment--that was who she was supposed to be. She was acting like the Vriel who was raised in Ciroc and she was prepared now. A low whine turned from her throat so he would know of her presence and her eyes lifted inquisitively to him; wondering, "hello," She sounded a little odd, but at least she was no longer being silent and acting as though others were not worth her words.

Just as quickly as he had fallen into his dream state, his eyes would snap open at the sound of a whine. The man would raise his head and assess the woman who stood before him. She was pretty; light brown encasing the whole of her body, contrasted by the bright blue of her sapphire eyes.

A soft smile would appear on his maw as he turned his body towards her, contemplating getting to his paws for a proper greeting. The thought was soon pushed away just as his thoughts of Qanik faded to the furthest recesses of his mind. He opened his maw to speak, responding to the girl in the only way he knew, kindness.

"Hello there." He would begin, a soft wag in his tail at the thought of company. She was saving him from wallowing in his own misery and she didnt even know it. Part of him wanted to thank her for the welcome distraction, and the idea was so ridiculous he wanted to laugh out loud. Instead, the silver man would rise to his feet, shaking his pelt to free it of debris.

Silver head would dip to the girl as he aimed his amber eyes towards her own gaze. Tail would drop down carelessly behind him as his ears perked in interest.

"What is your name?" His deep toned would inquire. What better way to forge a friendship then to begin with the basics?

He is kind and gentle and for once she finds herself curious as to why. why would he be nice to a perfect stranger? Even she is not. She who is so diplomatic and honest does not seem to understand his willingness to speak to her so evenly. Though, at the moment she finds herself appreciative of it because he distracts her from her selfishness. He distracts her from the rotten thoughts of how she has failed so many and she thinks about how he must have helped so many because of his kindness. She offers a polite smile--though it is small, and hopes that he can take to it willingly. She does not mean to let the veil of silence that overcomes fall as it does, but since it does she waits to answer him. She looks around as though she is going to offend some listener when she speaks. When she does though, the words are velvety and warm--as his seemed to her, "Vriel," She does not speak her last name, and such reasons are precisely why she looked around. Valerius would be so offended...Chrysanthe her new and old sister. Everyone would look at her like a leper, and all of a sudden she had become one, "I shouldn't be here. I'm intruding. Apologies, stranger," Rudeness is her thought and immediately she withdraws; turning so that she does no more damage to the problem at hand. He was kind and she wishes she could offer the same kind of attention, but she cant because it strains er too much. She has changed from the woman raised by the leader named Alice. She is not a Queen or independent, she is rather a shell of her former self, and yet there is no possession to care any longer. She has already failed all of those that she loves and so can she not fail a perfect stranger? It feels perfect to her.