It was almost like he could still smell her, the honeysuckle, the bluebells in the herb mixes she used to lay out in sun every morning like it was part of her routine. He’d say like because it wasn’t that she did it every morning, but just often enough that he would comment on it whenever she did it. Encourage it, so that he could show her that he did pay attention. That his mind was at home when he was home, not locked into some glossy-eyed state where it looked like the smoke had gotten to his eyes. She’d ask if he was okay, and he’d tell her yes, it was routine at that point. Not anymore, and the idea that It was woke him. Digits flexed, there is cold in his bones. The way it makes his limbs ache, as he feels the mid-day breeze against the curve of his spine. Coal black hair dusted with something new, age, sheets of it had been tossed in the night and it almost dared to hide away his home under an uprooted pine. A hesitant grunt, as if he, a young teenager who had grown to hate the sun. Petty movement brings him to rise, to the sun that scatters his eyes. Reflective, pale, moments pass before he is adjusted and looking in the underbrush and he is simply standing there. Waiting, watching.

She had been stalking a rabbit who escaped her grasp. The action left her unfulfilled. Tallulah turned her attention back to the Plains, biting back a sigh. She shouldn't be irritated at her lack of experience. It was her own fault. She drifted around listlessly, attempting to find something of value. Something, even something small, was better than nothing. Instead, she finds the smoky features of a man ahead of her. He has some ivory on him too, but she hadn't seen a pure black wolf in ages. Boreas bred many folks, some colorful and some common. Tallulah didn't approach but had been going in his direction. There was no intention behind her actions besides passing by. "Howdy, sir." if she had a hat, she'd tip it to him politely. The girl would be on her way if he did not speak, and that was fine in itself. She did not care if he spoke to her. Being petty about things beyond her control was... Irksome. A waste of time itself. She sniffed at the ground, attempting to pick up a trail again. "speech here"

Hasty beginnings - thats how he remembered her. Under her father's watchful eye and more. Split and torn from PTSD scattered men drunken in bars on the weekend. He remembered the fear in his chest as a teenager, asking that gardeners hand to their annual drowners hunt. Where men and women alike battled the crashing waves for slithering crabs and sea turtles that banked for more life in the ocean. a delicacy, a woman's first bite, and a soft shell trinket if you dared. His ears folded lightly as the off-shore breeze scuffed his already rough brow and with it carried a girl's voice, soft and summoning the turn of his head and the raise of his hips to greet her standing. "Afternoon.." It's hushed, but simply for the fact that his throat hadn't been used in days. Scratched and gravely, followed by the subtle clearing of his throat before throwing his head over his shoulder, in reference to where he had just been looking. "Do ya know of a way down?"

He wondered it of a different land - the shaded creeper was broad and not of the sea. Not agile and thin, smooth like the dolphins to the kissing eyes of sea snakes and more. He was bearish, with a broad short snout and ears that were nearly smothered by the lasting impression of his winter attire. thick and dusty - the remnants of the sea's salt on the tips of his hair and in between his pawpads. He found himself looking at her, then beyond. catching the multi-colored eye, unique and the creams atop her face.

He regards her and answers. Though a question hangs in a delicate balance. He wants to move on from here, find a way down. She glanced back to where she had just come from and angled her body to face it once more. "Aye, that I do" her tone is polite, eyes drifting over the river that cut through the land "follow the water north and yer gonna see a dip in the elevation, rightly so." She would pause to allow it to sink in before continuing. "See them there mountains?" she added, pointing out the eventual Crystallum Cliffs "between the start o' them and this here location is a dip ya can use to move to the thicket. Just keep to the water, sir, ya can't miss it." Upon a time, there had been a pack here. No longer did Abaven stand, Corbie's claim ran through the land in another location. The land would lower itself to access the Rustling Thicket. The Rapids were also southern, able to be seen by the elevation of the Plains. It wasn't so hidden from the world. Not like it used to be, cut off by a claim. "speech here"

thief;king

"Mmm" escapes him, as she speaks and his eyes follow her very own. a layout of the land - a map in his hands for what he hadn't found just yet. the young girl was him as a child - adventurous and understanding. a captain's hand and with the brim on their eyebrow so to suit. he stares off in that direction, where the thicket began and his questions were answered - or only some of them. His body shifts weight, relieving the stress to one side beyond the other and he exhales. For a few moments, lost in thought, before looking back to the sugared girl. "You live around here then, or does being a wallflower interest you more?" in reality, he wondered where her parents were. he could not judge - lie - he could not judge - lie. a parent always a parent, where are his?

She could not help but chuckle at his words. Tallulah smirked lightly. "Izzat what they call it these days?" she wondered out loud, tilting her head curiously. Wallflower. Loner. Vagabond. She always assumed a 'wallflower' was a type of lady who waited in the wings for a man to ask to dance. She had no such aspirations. She could handle herself, all things considered. "I don't rightly live anywhere for now" she told him honestly "Pa and I had a farm down south, in another land. I left it to see the world. May go back, may not." She shrugged. Pa understood she had wanderlust. If her Ma was alive, maybe the woman would have joined her. Pa was a patient man, and he had no insecurities about sharing the road with his wife and daughter. "Ya new here, sir?" she asked him plainly, politely, and not prodding. If he chose not to answer, that was his business. Tallulah was the type to keep a conversation going until it was rude to continue it. "I'm in the same boat" she admits, wagging her tail a bit "if ya need any help or just a chat, most folks in Boreas humor ya." "speech here"

thief;king

the giggle was caught on flat ears, nose tipping upwards slightly as the girl explain her circumstances and he cannot help but feel sheepish. bear snout touched by the coarseness of his tongue as if biting the inside of his cheeks in thought. he would never let her daughter of young age leave. you did let your daughter of a young age leave but he was not a man of judgment, not out loud. not where the world could make a judgment on his very own - it was all very stupid in the grand scheme of things. he lets her continue on until she lets a breath in and his lips part. "What is your name then?" callouses and crypt walker, and he begins to walk in the direction that she indicated. toes shifting through the grass, digging with a flicker of the ear closest to her, as if indicating to follow or perhaps this was the exit of the conversation. he was not one to chitter chatter - especially with young girls alone.

It was a bit odd for the young lady to meet a wolf who didn't rightly talk. She had been on the receiving end of chatter for a long time, it felt strange to meet a solemn individual. Folks in the South were friendly and warm. This man was cold and deadpan. He seemed keen, or so she assumed, to leave her be. His angle went to where she had come from, and not where she was going. It didn't matter. She'd call after him. "Tallulah Colt" she replied, angling her own body to leave. There didn't seem to be anything to be learned from the tight-lipped man. Any attempt to be friendly was met with a wall. She found no reason to stick around "safe travels, aye?" Even if he wasn't an open sort, she didn't wish him ill-will at all. Her smaller frame began to move away, further along the west. She'd find something of value, something to trade or craft with. Before leaving the location herself. /exit "speech here"