The Tangle most of your facial features are in the right place
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Ooc — xynien
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#1
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@Étoille sorry this is BAD
 
This wasn't the right place, either; that much was obvious the moment she entered the territory. No wolf could have lived in such an inhospitable place— and there were no signs of Drageda. Yet. Branwen had a feeling she was getting close, now. She might have even stumbled across the territory— but, talented as she was, she was going the opposite way entirely. Really, she wasn't an idiot. Just exceptionally bad at navigating, apparently.
She picked her way around spiny shrubs and over sharp rocks, proud that she only slipped a few curses here and there. For how frustrated she was, the fact was sort of impressive; being without a pack was taking a toll on her, now. Branwen had grown thinner recently, a tad more irritable— she really needed to find Drageda. Or get lost forever and become a crazy forest witch, that worked too.
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#2

The titan has not strayed from the territory in some time, not having need to make use of his skills in scouting. It is content, yes, but Furi's noticeable absence from Drageda concerns him. She has ... struggled, he knows, with feeling truly at home in Drageda, and Étoille worries her depature may be permanent.

He decides to give the surrouding areas a look through, just to see, and begins with the Tangle -- choupinou had often gone that way, he knows. He feels guilt at not being there enough for her with the birth of the children. They may be his children biologically, but he is not a parental figure in their lives -- Furi is much more his child even without blood.

In the Tangle he does not find Furi, but he does come across the scent of a stranger close to their borders. Curiously he pursues it, coming across the somewhat threadbare looking figure. "Bonjour," he calls, and asks in his usual not-a-question way, "you are lost."
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Ooc — xynien
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#3
Again, a stranger appeared at the last moment; she had been prepared to leave, if she could find the way out, already thoroughly sick of being lost here of all places. Couldn't she be lost in a pretty meadow, with butterflies and tasty bunnies? Nope. She was lost in a bunch of rock and shrub. It didn't matter so much when she caught sight of the pale giant approaching. The grace in his step gave her pause first— then, his strange greeting, and she was almost intrigued enough to forget her growing apprehension. He was kind of... big. And, well, that was scary.
Yes, She drew nearer, hesitant. Her tail wagged behind her slowly nonetheless, almost questioning; friendly, right? No attack followed his words, so Branwen took a breath and tried her luck. Best to get straight to the point, right? I'm searching for a pack— along the cliffs by the ocean, I was told. The girl paused, then decided against name-dropping yet. Just in case he was an enemy of Drageda, or an undercover something or other; she was happy to neglect questioning her own paranoid logic.
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#4

He blinks, unbothered by her skittishness. If it is skittishness -- he doesn't really care either way. He does not wag his tail in return but his expression remains calm and open, in no rush to move toward her. When she speaks, recognition flickers in his near-black eyes. There is only one cliffside sea pack. 

"Drageda," he confirms, tilting his head slightly. He wonders if he should be more wary, given the tense relationships between the coastal packs right now, but she does not smell of any other pack nearby. She doesn't smell of anything he can recognize. "You are from one of the others, oui? Trigeda?" It would not be the first time one of theirs came here, though Étoille does not know much about all of that.
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Ooc — xynien
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#5
flails
I'm too lazy for translation nonsense rn
The male's response caught her off-guard; she stood quietly for a beat, surprised. So she had run into a Drageda wolf— great. Perfect. Now they'd all know she had been lost like an idiot. Yes, Branwen made the switch instinctively, lowering her posture slightly and offering a deferential dip of her head. My name is Branwen; I've come here hoping to prove my worth in Drageda.
She paused a few beats, then had a thought— Those words you spoke— what language is that? Branwen didn't question her assumption that he spoke Trigedasleng yet. She was too busy feeling equal parts relieved and embarrassed to have been found by someone from Drageda, and it showed in her expression.
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#6

Logically, he can't fault her for assuming he must speak the native tongue. He knows about Trigeda and is clearly from Drageda, after all. But when she starts to speak in the strange, thick language shared by Heda and her wolves, Étoille feels his eyes glaze over. 

A beat of silence falls between them as he waits to make sure she isn't about to speak again. "Apologies," he says, "I do not speak your tongue. I, er, am not a native of your culture." And then he lapses back into silence, waiting for her to repeat herself in common.
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Ooc — xynien
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#7
She faltered slightly during the small pause— then more, at his words. Oh! It fell from her lips quietly. Her face was suddenly ablaze, ears slicking back for the barest moment; if wolves could blush, Branwen would have been. I'm sorry. My name is Branwen, and um... Oh no, where did her words go? Not here, not here. She swallowed and shifted uncomfortably, hyper-aware of how awkward she was making this with each passing second.
Well, Branwen started again after a bit with an embarrassed, slightly breathless laugh. I wasn't here to make an idiot of myself, but— here I am. She knew she was likely making it worse. It was kind of a terrible introduction, and she had half a mind to gather up the remnants of her pride and run back to Trigeda.
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#8

She reintroduces herself as Branwen. Étoille nods, then pauses, his head tilting further as she expresses her embarrassment. It's an honest mistake in his opinion, nothing worth being embarrassed about. Unsure how to, er, settle her, he decides to move on as if nothing has happened. "I am Étoille," he introduces, "Steltrona of Drageda. It is nice to meet you, Branwen." 

She hasn't said yet why she's here, but he can guess enough. "If you are looking for Drageda, I can lead you there," he offers, gesturing over his shoulder in the general direction the cliffside pack lay. Without waiting for her answer -- assuming it's going to be a yes -- the titan picks himself up and begins to trace his own path through the Tangle back to his home. Furi's scent is not in the area, anyway, so he might as well help Branwen out.
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Ooc — xynien
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#9
sorry I'm awful aaahhhh. can we pull this forward to present so the joining thread doesn't need backdating?
The shame was really about more than just her mistaken assumption; she was decidedly grateful when the male moved on. Étoille, She tested the name on her tongue with a dip of her head. It was foreign and lovely— and suddenly the pale man seemed more interesting.
It's a pleasure, Branwen murmured warmly; formalities were familiar, easy. Her gaze flitted across stoic features only for a few beats before her eyes widened in surprise, finally processing his words— Steltrona— I knew it! The girl blurted, not loud but undeniably excited. Hadn't she, in a way? Granted, she had suspected he was some sort of enemy spy— and really, it was only her own paranoia— but hey, she was gonna let herself have this, damnit.
She didn't elaborate; there wasn't much time to, anyway. Étoille was speaking again— and then he had turned, and automatically Branwen followed. If he had expected a quiet journey, well... that poor, ignorant man. Branwen was, unfortunately, terrible at staying quiet for more than a few minutes.
What was that language? Her voice was slightly hushed, but full of undisguised fascination. She had, after all, come here mainly to learn; to grow, and perhaps one day become worldly. For now she was only a slightly awkward, overly curious youth— but hopefully one who could coax a bit of information from the snow-furred Steltrona.
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#10
of c!!! wanna end this one + start the new one at the borders?

Distantly amused, he cocks his head. "If it is that obvious, perhaps I am not such a good one," Étoille says, though whether he is joking or merely making an observation is hard to discern. He does not mind the chatty walk back, though he is not the most generous of conversational partners. Her question ellicits a hmm, followed a moment later by "my mother's tongue. French." By now he is used to his language being something of a fascination. The distance to Drageda from their location is not far. As they near the steltrona straightens, preparing to summon leadership unless Branwen stops him.
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Ooc — xynien
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#11
She almost felt compelled to reassure him— "Oh, no, I'm just really paranoid"— but again made the decision to keep her own pride in guessing. Instead she smiled, nodding slightly as he answered her question and tucking the knowledge away. The journey to Drageda was a short one; actually, she felt sort of cheated. She'd almost gotten it on her own! Another day or two and... ugh, well, she was here now at least.