Death, is here. It's in the very air she breathes, in the trees she gazes upon, in the earth beneath her feet. The destruction of a world has always enchanted her but there are whispers that draw her in still. She marches forward, feet moving slowly past the brooks and streams as they met and then rush to the ocean. Water - that promised life. That promised of rebirth and flourishing and growth. That would change things, fix things.
It did not fix the feeling in her body, the slow dull tug to parts unknown. Her promise had been to stay far away from her family, her mother describing somehow the
darkness in her blood. Still - she had to know for herself. She could not help herself.
With hope that he would find something of value to bring back to Deirdre, to make her smile and to return her beloved friends to her, Renoir had ventured clear of his new home. He tracked down to the beach and inspected every little thing he found there, though there were more bug carcasses here than anywhere inland; what plants he found were dead and salt-crusted, likely things living deep within the sea and nothing of use for the pale girl. He gave a sigh as his latest discovery of green turned out to be nothing more than soggy weeds, and canted his head towards the sparse hillside.
That was when he spotted her — his sister, maybe, or the little Deirdre, he was not sure — and the surprise of seeing the pale woman drew him out from across the sand. As he approached he gave a light-hearted call, and in coming close his pace lagged until he was standing before her gleefully. The wag of his tail slowed when he realized it was a stranger, and not the fine-boned child, nor the sister he had left so far behind.
Hello,
he murmured peaceably, and cast a cheerful smile her way.
It was a little surprising when she was spotted so quickly, the wolf's announcement and cheerful approach brought a curve of a smile to Rowan's face. She licked her lips, looking him over with a bemused sort of smile as the realization that she was a stranger dawned on him. "What, not happy to see me anymore?" She teased. Rowan wondered who he thought she might have been.
"Rowan Mayfair, it's a pleasure." She said, her long tail sweeping the ground behind her slowly. It wasn't unwelcome attention in the slightest but she hadn't expected to find anyone on her little wandering journey.
She was a fine thing; as he compared her to Monet though, Renoir found little things to nitpick, and gradually her appeal faded from his eyes. Pretty, yes, but nothing as ideal as his sister - or the fine child of Donnelaith. When he finished comparing her with his obvious studying of her various angles, he tsk-ed softly, and gave a little bow. Mwen am Renoir, of the Bordens.
Which meant very little here.
Still, he expanded to at least explain his enthusiasm: Ou look very much like my sè, Monet. Mwen te panse —
ah, slipping back and forth between his comfort zone and the language of the natives here, Renoir had to pause and think so as not to confuse himself. Then his speech was slow and deliberate, but still heavily accented. I thought ou were my sista. Not so, but I am 'appy to meet ou still, miss Rowan.
Where had she come from? He did wonder, but did not ask, deciding he had already fumbled the conversation enough.
"Ne vous inquiétez pas," Rowan soothed quickly, offering a little smile to him. No need for him to get so flustered. It wasn't surprising really that she looked like his sister - pale wolves weren't really all that special. Not honestly. She smiled at him, glancing down before she looked him over. She let her eyes drift slowly, taking in the little details of who he was and how he looked.
"You live nearby?" She asked with a small smile, head tilting just a touch to the side out of curiosity. He looked fairly normal, not quite like the monsters that Ellie had promised were lurking somewhere in these lands. She had wanted Rowan to stay nice and safe - but after her death, well, Roman couldn't stay anymore. She couldn't stand being there when her mother was not.
Her words are a balm to his ears, and his smile grows stronger.
Oui! Mwen menm mwen soti yon kote yo rele Donnelaith. Gen anpil moun tankou nou - frankofon, ah, menm si mwen menm mwen pa byen yon sèl tèt mwen - si w'ap chèche abitye, mwen ta san pwoblèm mwen tap eskòt ou.
His words were far more fluid once he switched to his more dominant language, though Renoir still spoke in such an exuberant flurry that some words jumbled together, or were spoken so fast she might have missed them.
He did pause after to take a breath, and then realized in that moment how forthright he had sounded. Taking on yet another sheepish expression, the golden boy shrank submissively from her, and murmured, Ekskiz mwen, mwen menm ki jis .. Byen eksite al kontre lòt moun tankou tèt mwen. Nou se yon lot ra anpil.
Rowan offered him a brighter smile, tail flowing behind her even as he hid away from his exuberance. He was excited and she found it charming, not unlike a child's sort of glee. It was something Rowan had not known herself, not for many years.
Nous sommes beaucoup rare - un trop grand nombre d'entre nous et nous posséder le monde. And wouldn't that be a sight?
Idly she wondered what that would might have been like, but, she remembered he had said where he was from. Her ears quirked and she licked her lips, smoothing a few errant whiskers in the process. Where did you say you were from? she knew that name.
How joyous he would be if the world was dominated by his people! Then maybe he'd have his sister back, not in the grasp of some foreigner, but with him again! He did not think about this too much, as the question she posed made him quirk his head to one side and repeat, Donnelaith,
which he enunciated just in case his voice was the issue the first time around. After a pause Renoir motioned with a turn of his body and the brief flair of a head toss towards the west - It is beautiful. Ocean and forest, and a great number of magnifiscent people.
Behind him his tail fanned the air, his pride in relation to his home quite evident. Though he had only been there a short while, Renoir knew it was where he meant to stay.
Rowan chewed the corner of her lip, a nervous habit she had since she was a child. She felt a stirring in her, a little nod as the male spoke. It was clear to her that he was good - kind hearted to a fault, at least on first impressions. Long ago my people were from Donnelaith. Rowan explained. The chances were miniscule that these were not somehow her kin, but, she did have to leave room for chance and errors.
"How long have you been there?" She asked, tail still swaying slowly behind her.
Oh? Such an admission was curious to him. He did not question it, but looked upon her in a new light. Was she some sort of queen returning to a throne, maybe? Something else entirely with great power, perhaps? Not long,
he responds to her question with a small shrug of the shoulders. I was on da beach and met them - people of Donnelaith - and was ah, brought among dem,
he would need to take some time to learn stronger English, someday. It felt strange to speak with it instead of his creole but Java was too lazy to translate every post so he's stuck with broken bits of speech, go figure. Mwen can show ou?
tell me about that hover shit - i was mobile so had tabs open trying to translate and get it all done haha
At Renoir's story Rowan gave a small smile, nodding her head. She could understand that. Being stumbled upon and then taken it seemed to be a frequent habit. Although French Quarter was far more secretive to it's rituals and it's standards they still took on the wayward soul from time to time.
"I would love to see it, if you don't mind spending your day showing me around." Rowan said with a smile.
I'll fade here! Maybe have another where Renoir brings her nearer to Donnelaith? Or we could just imply it, since you have a thread elsewhere already.
He was glad to hear her accept, and was only made more enthusiastic with her company. It would not take long to bring her close to the great forest and once there, he hoped to call for someone and introduce her to more of the family. Perhaps it was where she belonged? In which case, Renoir was helping more than just herself, but the entirety of Donnelaith, and lending them a great service. With a nod to his head he ushered her along, and within minutes the two were off together with Renoir in the lead.
I was planning on starting an aw thread in Donnelaith - I could always just mention Renoir showing her around a bit, if you wanted, or you could hop in. Your call either way!
It was a lovely turn of events to have stumbled upon him. She hadn't expected to be so successful so quickly in her ventures but then, luck usually favored her. Rowan offered Renoir a kind smile and bumped her shoulder gently against his as she fell into step with him, exchanging the scarce details of her previous lands (saving the rest for herself, naturally.)