Morning
Sunny w/ light sea breeze
75 degrees
When the dragoness opened her eyes, the first thing she'd been met with through hazed lids was the harsh glare of the sun. The side of her face planted firmly against wet sand, and her vision blured and burning from either the air or the seawater -- honestly? She couldn't tell. Everything just hurt. Even her digits as her paws made kneading movements to keep them from falling asleep. Even her lungs as she breathed and...barfed.
Everywhere.
Violent coughs followed by more hurling, a mixture of seawater and stomach acid fled her mouth and left her throat burning and eyes watering. The young girl groaned, sputtered, and coughed up what was left of the bile before attempting to stand on shakey limbs. "F-fuck..." Björk mumbled to herself groggily.
The lack of balance got the best of her, though, and she'd end up falling right back on her rump with a pained grunt.
distress buzzed in his ear like a fly, and he felt the warmth of his flesh flee at the stench of bile mixed with sea.
heavy paws led him near to the sea-worn woman, her coat drenched from a lost battle with the ocean. coughs filled the salted air and his chest pounded wildly with concern as he ran towards the castaway.
his steps slowed as he neared, a pleading whine slipped from his lips as he outstretched his muzzle to assess for any injuries.
"allow me to aid you," he pleaded, eyes desperate in his hope that she accept his assistance.
he had cried for the sea to send him lost souls. he could not help but believe she was who the nymphs had sent him.
Disoriented was she, who's body was claimed by the sea overnight like the drifting weeds. This place was not home -- it was not the harsh yet familiar, biting cold of the tundra. That much could be felt like the way the sun wrapped around her like a comforting hug -- her skin needed the warmth, yet all the dragoness needed was her way back. It was a mystery, then, to how she'd even been washed up upon these unknown shores.
As she sat their, bitter with the shiver in her bones and taste of bile stuck on her tounge, the ringing in her ears wailed louder in hearing a whine. This, followed by a masculine voice among the air. Without thought -- without so much as a question -- the winter dragon whipped around with a display of white ivory knives underneath a crinkled muzzle. A warning, for one, toward the stranger who lurked close, and a sheild for she, who knew better than to trust sweetened words in her pitiful state.
"Who are you?" She rasped harshly, hackles spiked over her scruff and a tail wrapping around her stomach defensively.
his attempt at aid was met with a red hot bar of aggravation pulled fresh from a fiery forge. it pierced through the outer layer of his flesh and branded a scarlet blemish upon his spirit.
he felt some unspeakable responsibility for her life. the sea had delivered on to him the soul he'd cried out for — how could he so quickly abandon her now?
"a friend," came the comforting note of his voice, posture as nonthreatening as he could bring himself to physically be.
he remained steadfast, not approaching until she no longer presented herself as a viper, coiled and ready to strike.
"there is some fresh water inland. allow me to show you the way?"
She tested him from a distance, yet even as she eyed him up and down his posturing did not show any significant change -- not too dominant, nor entirely submissive either -- no clear sign of aggression. A moment of silence persisted between them, her lips slowly sheathing back over her teeth, before she eventually sighed from the breath she held.
The woman huffed, and decided to train her gaze of her shoulder, instead. "I don't know whether to feel relived or annoyed that you aren't giving me a reason to be mad -- I could really use the outlet right about now." she joked dryly -- though, just in case she needed to clarify, her gaze traveled back towards him. "Uh, sarcasm, of course."
Who knew? Her sister never called her a "Frigid bitch" for nothing, afterall.
There was still no telling what this guy might try, so the skepticism never left the dragon's eyes. He was an older man, clearly, with more woodland colors in comparison to her tundrian ones. Straightening her posture, she streaded a few steps closer, silently accepting his invitation, though never treading closer that those few steps. Safer to keep her distance.
"Do you know where we are?"
earthly ears pressed against his crown as she turned to offer words he felt conflicted on. she was upset, clearly, but why she felt so was as much a mystery to him as to how she'd washed ashore.
was she mad at him, or the world?
the tone of her words in particular cut him coldly. perhaps she'd swallowed too much seawater and all the salt had infected her tongue. it would explain the briny sarcasm. it was settled then, fresh water was the cure for her ailment.
he straightened himself as she took a few steps closer, an icy air between them that he sought to melt with the warmth of his nature.
"i believe you've washed ashore a northwestern coast," he shared as he moved to lead her towards a stream further inland. he wondered where she'd come from, and where she'd been heading, but did not yet press his curiosities.
he went on to aid her as much as she would allow before eventually parting from her, though not before offering an invitation to heal among the scorched woodland.