Somehow she'd gotten turned around, and that was saying something because Jubilee considered herself a damn fine tracker. They had escaped together after all, had made a pact to stay close, but somehow the two of them had gotten separated and while trying to find Revolver's trail again, Jules only got herself more lost. Was it her fault that she couldn't differentiate one wolf-scent from another? The girl liked to think it was just fate which had intervened - but at the same time Jules had no use for such a fickle thing. She was determined to reunite with the love of her life and so, with the forest to her flank and the mountains sprawling ahead of her, she crossed through the undulating valley without any other thoughts besides: I have to find him. She had a dogged determination which would one day lead to her ruin, no doubt.
The sinner's stayed by Sif's side as instructed, finding a relative peace in the company of the enthusiastic if naive younger woman. But she does not feel the need to be glued at the hip. She is unused to a land with so much variety, so many new places to see, and every day the freedom feels a little bit less suffocating and a little bit more, well... freeing.
And so she sets out for herself, a day trip or so. Something to enjoy in solitude, something to reflect. There are habits of her upbringing that she will surely never lose: meditation, reflection, the odd prayer. It is not that she can simply stop being superstitious, even if religion itself has fled her. Under her breath she hums an old hymnal, a relic of a not-so-bygone time.
An unusual sight breaks her meditations. A wolf like creature, yes, but the smell's slightly wrong, the color... Poet's never encountered a dog before, doesn't know the word for it. Intrigued, she steps closer, footfalls elegant. "You look determined," the blasphemer says casually, her canny yellow gaze sweeping the other's honeyed flank, "what is it you look so fiercely for?"
A voice breaks her concentration and for a split second Jules thinks, maybe, that it's her current fixation. She knows better though. Nothing is that easy and Revolver has been missing from her sights for almost three days now. But the voice is pleasant, and when she gives the stranger a once-over with her eyes, so is the body attached. Jubilee is loyal to her companion at the moment but there is no denying that brief flicker of consideration that shoots through her brain - don't look for him, this one's better - but maybe that's just her frustration talking.
My boy, he's gone'n gotten himself lost.
Jules doesn't have to get closer because the other woman closes the gap. As much as she doesn't want to admit it, she recognizes the look the wolf is giving her and the fluff along her spine puffs a little bit. There is no word in Jubilee's lexicon for what she is exactly, but she has always thought herself to be wolf enough so that such looks don't creep under her skin the way they used to. He's a big guy, likes to think he's strong but I'm pretty sure he's just fat, and he looks kinda funny - like,
to avoid looking at the lady before her she rolled her eyes slightly and watched an ambiguous point in the air while she thought aloud, kinda like snow but with lots of dirt and rocks on it. Probably the weirdest description y'ever heard, right?
She pasted a grin on her long face and watched the stranger, wondering how they'll react.
The woman denies any connection to her beau and Jubilee feels a sense of relief above all else; then following on relief's tail, annoyance. It isn't directed to the beautiful woman though. Jules should have known the boy she pursued would be difficult to find - he probably got lost on purpose.
The stranger's remarks make Jubilee's golden hairs stand a little. A sensation slips down her spine and she tries to ease the abrupt feeling of defensiveness by swaying her tail. Not many wolves have been kind to her so far and she is nervous about letting this one get close, no matter how attractive they appear. I'm from up north - that's where I found Rev -
ah but she bit her tongue at this, catching herself from sharing too much. But I prefer long walks on the beach with a little moonlight, y'know? Nice and romantic-like.
Her curiosity is not to be appeased, it seems, although she tilts her head and smiles faintly. Rev must be the name of the strange dirty-snow boy she seeks. Poet almost wishes she could see him, for trying to picture him as described is strange and leaves her intrigued.
The sinner laughs at the strange girl's sudden diversion. "Is that romance?" She asks, imagining the scenario. "A.. date? I've never been on one."