Blackbeak Bluff Cause I know they won't be coming here for anybody else

set for a day or so after she bolts <3 aw! I may close out her other in favor of this depending on how I catch up

Rosalyn traveled until she hit the northern edge of the cliffs, and when she did, she had to stop.  She was exhausted, and the stress of what she'd done compounded on the strain of her condition was leaving her a little woozy.  

She wasnt going to.  She wasn't -

She staggered, then sat down abruptly, dropping her head instinctively in an attempt to keep her feet.  It swam before it settled, but eventually, she managed a deep breath.

What the hell Rosalyn.  What the hell.

Shed left, but was she really leaving? No.  Not without talking to Erzulie first.  The truth behind at least this calmed her down more, though as she sat there, she knew why she'd left.  She couldn't face her yet.  By now the pack would have found him, and would have pieced together what she had done.  Without having an explanation, who knew if she'd even be welcome back?

There'd been a time when it felt as if nothing could shake her, and right now, she barely recognized the trembling woman sitting in her fur.  She would face what she'd done when she could, but for now, she needed to find some water.  As soon as her head stopped spinning.

A chill carried its way across the bluff, gathering darkness. It was different from a summer storm for its lethargy, a distinct lack of energy, but she still felt the booming of the sea below. Before long there was a flurry starting — out of place in the spring, but it was unseasonably cold along this coast and she did not choose to speculate. She was here for her communion with her Mother.

There came a shock of red in her vision — like blood in the water, it spread, contorted, became something identifiable. The woman closed her eyes and bade farewell to the Sea for now; there would be ample time to return, but for now she was intrigued. The shape was decidedly canid from a distance, and as she began her approach, the woman noticed a certain plump aspect.

When the woman finally stopped her breathing was laboured; Minerva knew better than to stalk after a stranger, but when she realized the state of the woman fully - her pregnancy, her fright, the scent of blood so faint beyond the salt of the sea - her heart swelled. She could not just stand by when a sister was in distress.

She made her presence known with her body first, allowing her steps to grow heavy and her gait to become more pronounced, and called out: Eíste se kíndyno? And then transitioned smoothly to common, Are you alright?

Rosalyn lurched to standing when she heard a stranger's approach, but immediately fell back upon her haunches.  The motion had been too quick and she teetered, but only blanked out for a second before snapping back to herself.  Pregnancy and the day's events had done a damn number on her.

While her immediate reaction was defensive, the question seemed genuine.  Also, she was hardly in a place to be lashing out at strangers.

Not particularly, she replied in a strained voice.  She had nothing in her stomach to expel anymore, thankfully, but she still felt like shit.  Do you know where the nearest water is?  She didn't care who this woman was, if she could find her a drink then they'd be fast friends.

Her first thought, as always, was of the sea; yet the Mother dod not offer a teat so willing to her children and Minerva knew to find another source. Something touched by moonlight, something clean. Without comment she begins to look around fervently until she spies something of use. Minerva takes stock of her surroundings: dry tangles of grass like tumble weeds are everywhere; any divot in the stonework could hold water but the sunlight would cook it away, leaving it worse than brine; she does not know the area well enough to offer anything else.

She briefly turns in search, and when not facing the woman Minerva's eyes shut. She sends a plea to the Mothers for aid. It is a poor omen to have found a sister in such a state. Where was her entourage? Her protection? 

I see nothing of use here; if you know this area well and feel up to more movement, I will stay by your side as an aid. What has happened? How far along...? Her pale eyes glimpse the woman's curves. She cannot help but wonder who in their right mind would bring harm to any would-be mother; this is a blessed time for her people, and the sight of this woman in distress chills her to the core.

She'd lived around here and should know.  Rosalyn tried to force herself to calm down and think about where she could go.

South, she finally said, indicating the ridge before them as she stood, this time slowly.  Most of the blood on her was Firefly's, she thought distantly, but she was still going to lean on the woman's offered assistance.  Thank you.

A month.  I fought with the donor.  The word father wouldn't come.  The fight had been poorly done and she might have been wrong, but the thought of his words still left a taste of that rage within her mind.  She hadn't felt this nauseous since first becoming pregnant, and didn't think she'd need to worry about finding food anytime soon. Maybe she should just concentrate on walking.  She'd allowed herself to become too overstrung and sensed that the more upset she became, the more danger she was in.  Who are you? She asked, both out of curiosity and as an effort to distract herself.

South. She did her best to keep pace with the woman as they made their way, and in the meantime listened closely to what was said. It was appalling; that a man was the reason for her ills was not surprising in the slightest, but the audacity of men would always disgust her. Whoever the man was, he had earned himself a black mark within Minerva's mind; may the Mothers strike him down for such behavior! Minerva is tight-lipped as she goes, trying not to let her traditional mind get the better of her.

Who are you? the woman finally asks.

Minerva, the siren responds; she has to catch herself before she attaches her familial name afterwards, it is an old habit. There is a sharp pitch to her voice as she reigns in her emotion, but she is still concerned as they near their destination. She pauses so they can both rest for a moment before continuing, I am searching for my kin, but so far I have had no luck. I am like a fish out of water in this place.

Rosalyn was too distracted by her own struggles to notice the hitch in the woman's words, but she appreciated listening to something while she focused on where to find fresh water.  The rest was appreciated, though.  By the time they paused, she was exhausted.

Are they from here? She asked as she sat down heavily, though the instant she did she regretted doing so.  Getting up again was going to be difficult.  I've been in the area a while.  I know some.  Most not well, or friendly, but she might be able to give a clue or two on where the woman should go.  A favor for a favor.

Are they from here — the woman's question seemed to pass in one ear and go out the other, but she hears it. It registers quickly and Minerva doesn't know how to answer, so she is silent while the woman keeps talking. She settles. Minerva begins to inspect her for harm but does not initially find any warning signs; there is some blood upon her, but it does not appear to be from the woman. Curious.

The pause is short-lived. No; my family comes from a series of islands, but I had hoped some had come this way. Do not worry for me — your time is coming soon, the babes are more important. A thin, tense smile slips across her face once she says this, and she busies herself with scouring the soil immediately around them for anything of use. It is not worth it though, for the mainland is so very different from Kea.

Islands.  Rosalyn only knew of one, but she doubted it was the same.  She closed her eyes and nodded, though the words turned her stomach.  She wasn't ready for this.

I never wanted to be a mother before this.  I still don't know that I do.  she confessed finally, still with her eyes closed.  She couldn't say this to any but a stranger, one who she trusted not to judge the words.  Or who, if she did, it didn't matter, because likely they would never cross paths again.