Qeya River let light not see my deep and black desires

for @Eske -- keeping things vague about the iliksis thing

Being uprooted from their home had not turned out to be such a negative thing, or so Vaati believes. It is a time for reflection, to think about where they went wrong. Blackfeather had held the upper hand... now why had they not won? Vaati does not think about these things himself, he had won his own battle. It had been the rest that failed to hold up their own ends, to solidify all those high and mighty claims about superiority they had been chanting for years. Perhaps he should be more sympathetic to his own kind, but he is not. Only disappointment and the slightest bit of smuggery paints his smirk -- for now -- they could no longer deny that change was needed. Change in the form of him as their leader, and how he planned to restore the image of blood-curdling terror their name at its proclamation, once produced. The war itself had been a win-win situation for Vaati himself for either way, he would get what he wanted. 

Following the river upstream from the Bypass, the yearling dunks himself in the riverbank, freeing himself from the stench of rot and blood of the dark woods. It has already faded, his own individual scent submerged under the wave of scents of those he had come into contact with during the fight, and the fresh scent of a forest nowhere near the woods. Yet still, he takes precautions. To scout without masking the smell of where he came from is foolish, he knows this now. He has learned. 

Unknowingly, the path he takes northeast will lead him straight to the shore of Drageda's forces, the destination marked within his mind as Caiaphas had explained, but only by the tunnels would he be able to locate where it lies. With the winds low and frozen on the early winter morning, he begins to investigate this new land, he can only hope to catch the scent of a pack if he ventures too near. But for now, he plays a risky little game; one taunting the Fates whom he had dodged so often. Hunkered, alert stance and well placed, well paced footing drives him forward, and Vaati does not look back.

eske knows that she should not be leaving drageda's territory so soon. her wounds are still healing and sore but they are shallow and if she thought her little impromptu jaunt would be life threatening she'd have never risked it. she can't sit still — and part of her feels guilty because she is sure that she is portia's worst patient ( it runs in the family ) but the thought of remaining cooped up in one of drageda's caves drives her to near madness. she is claustrophobic and impatient and when she is cleared for returning to patrols she takes advantage of her new found freedom.

she travels further than she's intended but the trek has thus been uneventful and if there was one thing about this war that eske learned it was that be keeping to drageda's territory except on sanctioned missions has impaired her ability to be a effective tactician. in order to know how the enemy operates she can't continue to be a hermit. drageda would not crumble just because she steps out on small scouting trips. breaking her habits is hard but the truth is she is not a leader and is not bound by the same obligations as thuringwethil and dio are. she has the freedom to venture out, to discover and to learn. the territory of the qeya river is cold. the small breeze that kicks up is bitter and cold and though her thick winter coat keeps out the worst of it she still shivers as it hits healing wounds salved and dressed by portia. it was no matter, she tells herself. she is a dragon. she is drakru and the cold was nothing. a numbing agent to the smart of pain of slightly aggravated injuries.

there is a scent upon the breeze and eske's steps cease on instinct, each muscle pulling taunt as her blue-green sea glass colored eyes take in the hulking form of the male feet away from her position. he nearly blends into the icy landscape around the pair, except for the splash of sand against icy fur. she does not recognize his scent nor his appearance thus, for the moment, she ignores him. not truly, of course, she merely acts like it as she bows her head to lap at the ice cold water that struggles to run beneath the thick ice that encases it and threatens to completely freeze it. she is still acutely aware of his presence and the swivel of her ear in his direction is the only tell-tale that she's both aware of and monitoring him. she's in no actual shape to fight but that does not mean she is not prepared nevertheless. she is weary of strangers and all the time she's spent cooping herself up in drageda's territory has done nothing but nurse and nurture that weariness that often blurs the line into hostility.

i am SO sorry for the wait

Vaati does not notice the idling body that lurks nearby -- not at first. It is his mistake, attention wholly divulged in finding his bearings to take notice to a passerby in the distance. That is, until the familiar smell of flesh, the metallic hint of blood carried on the breeze mixed in with an unsavoury recollection of a certain pack strikes his awareness, and he turns his focus to the figure moving in the distance.

Instead of charging forth, he offers a low rumble from his chest; a volatile and clear warning that cracks the silence between them. He waits to see if she will attack -- she looks the part -- but he will not be the one to instigate silly brawls, only to become the willing responder should the occasion arise. It is not that he is frightened by the Drageda wolf's presence, but he has learned from the mistakes that led him up to the position he currently stood. Vaati's only motive to surge forth in her direction would be to outright kill, something he is not presently in the best condition for. His bones still ache from the fight against Drageda, from travelling so far to escape the aftermath and dealing with what tensions arose, and is in no mental no physical frame to go at it again. If she should ignore him, then he will do the same. Yet, the ball is in her court and the decision left entirely up to her.

an ear twitches as if she's shooing off a fly as his low rumble carries through the air between them. it shatters the silence, the volatile warning. the look she gives him from the corner of her eye is sharp and she nearly snorts into the river. he might be big but she is wanlida and she fears no beast. certainly no male. he intends to be intimidating and it amuses the wanlida. she lifts her head and turns it to fix him in a leveled stare, offering a slight, bird-like cant to her head and lift of her muzzle. "i hope that wasn't meant to intimidate me." eske offers a small sneer as the words slip from betwixt her lips. she is sore and healing from her battle in the war but that does not mean she would be anything other than what she was: a warrior. she's not looking for a fight but she doesn't appreciate the volatile warning when they are on neutral ground and it is otherwise unwarranted. he could go fuck right off and she had no issues with telling him that, either. "do yourself a favor and find another stranger to growl menacingly at." her hackles bristle at her nape to emphasize her own warning. her words here and now are the only warning he will get — the next time she will not be so kind. eske has no patience for unwarranted, unspoken threats. she shifts her weight ever-so-slightly, trying to hide the favor of her weight to one side. the action pulls slightly at the kill mark on her shoulder and she resists the urge to cringe at the sickening feeling of healing flesh being tugged upon.

if he chooses to stay ( even briefly ), she'll ask with heavy annoyance in her tone, "what is it that you want?"