Dragoncrest Cliffs i'm not crying. you're not crying, are you?

Well, this was it. This what what the fates had in store from her. There was no ultimate lesson to be learned from her family’s leaving — no retribution she must suffer. There was no possible  bargaining or reckoning she could do to earn her family back. No, if there had been, then Isleña certainly would have found it. She searched for that hard, and that long. But, in the end, there was only pointless pain and frayed, severed ties where there should have been cleanly cleaved cuts. 

Isleña didn’t deserve this, and she might feel like nothing without the company of her Luks, but the banshee was not a quitter. She might wrestle and shriek against the confines of her new realities, but she always eventually learned to accept them and move forward with head held high. That’s what must happen now. She was never a queen, and might never one day be a queen, but at least she could have the dignity of one.

Isleña found herself in a foreign land, where she was the outsider. The woman did not speak their language — either of them, for she ascertained there was a different, more guttural language being used here too — and she did not know their lands or their customs. She was the newcomer that she had always hated amongst Khorasan; the ones who did not assimilate and could not find their way. They were burdens; and right now, Isleña was definitely a burden. She hated it, but she did not show it.

At least, if anything, these wolves reminded her of home. The location was vastly different, but the energy was the same. Fighters who took no one’s shit — that, Isleña easily understood with no words needed. Strength emanated from this group just as weakness sometimes emanated from others. If her life with the Luks must be over,  then it was this crowd that Isleña could easily picture herself assimilating with. Eventually. It would take her some time, but Isleña was the first person to cut herself some slack. Hopefully these wolves — dradego? or something — would do the same of her.

It was all these things, and more, that Isleña pondered as she picked across the innards of the territory, looking like an interloper and feeling very much the same. 

WHEW DOGGIE jumping in here quick before i go to bed

For all the fireworks that had led up to the clash between Drageda and Rusalka, it had been quiet lately. Too quiet. Verx found himself occupied with various things--sparring, patrolling, teasing Aure--but none of them quite matched up to the thrill of conflict. He was sorely lacking excitement in his life.

Big guy upstairs came through for him, today.

He thought the dark brown shape on the horizon looked oddly familiar, but he didn't realize who exactly it was until he got closer. The immediate surge of arousal at seeing his one-time lover was swept away, soon after, with the knowledge that she wasn't supposed to be here. Ah, anger and lust. A heady combination.

Snarling, the brute marched her way, chest puffed out and tail high. Still, there was a wicked smile on his face as he approached the woman, and he couldn't resist an exasperated chuckle, despite the bristling of his pelt.

Fanas, what in the ever-living fuck are you doing here?! he demanded, fixing a gimlet stare on her. You missed the border. By a lot.

Isleña knew that it was just a matter of time before she ran into one of her new packmates, and she was not greatly looking forward to it. She was reluctant to speak to them, for she simply could not make her full meaning known — Isleña was fully convinced that came off as an idiot to everyone she met, when really, she was quite well-spoken and fun to converse with! But, she did not want to make such a bad first impression upon her new family, her new Luks, so oooobviously the only solution was to pretend she didn’t exist. It solved no problems, and probably only created more, but it’s the only thing that felt right.

Like Vercingetorix, the gods had something else in store for her.

When a voice reached her ears, barking unknown orders at her, her entire body seized up and she stopped her hasty movements across the landscape. Fuck, her mind thought as she quickly mulled over how she was going to explain her situation here — whatever situation it was. She wasn’t exactly sure what the man was going on about, after all. If she did not smell of Dregade yet, perhaps she could ask for Aure and Mallaidh to vouch on her behalf.

Unwillingly, Isleña turned to look at the dark form that trotted her way, tail raised high and domineering. That fur — those eyes — and finally it registered, that voice — It was that guy from the night with the deer.

Isleña then dropped all worry about any misunderstandings and had to stifle back a big, big, big laugh. She had known she would see him again, hadn’t she? She freaking knew this would happen! Isleña truly tried not to laugh, for all the good it did her, but there was a big silly grin plastered on her face an a small giggle leaked from her mouth despite her best efforts. Tail wagging, for she was genuinely happy to see a familiar and lovely face in this scary place, she greeted him. “Belə belə belə,” she tittered. “Gözlərim məni aldatdı!” Truly, Isleña was not surprised she found the man with this merry band of warriors, though there had not been a single thought of it when she had decided to take refuge here.

Time to try for an explanation that didn’t make her seem like a stalker. “H-home,” she stammered, wishing she could say something along the lines of my entire family disappeared and I needed a home but this place is quite intimidating, even for me. Do you have any words of advice for me, a lone soul in this world? but instead she settled on another, improperly pronounced “House,” and waved her tail, as if that made any sense.

Wow, she was awfully cheerful for a trespasser. She oughta be lucky her pussy was so good the other night, otherwise he might have been inclined to chase her off. He shook his head, bemused, knowing the tone of her voice to be jesting, even if the words made no sense.

Then she chimed in with words that did make sense to him, although the context seemed. . .off. Yeah, my home, he said, pointing down with his chin toward his barrel chest. Not your home. Right? Or did they let you in and I just don't know about it?

Speaking as if she'd understand anything he said. It would have been comical, if she wasn't balls-deep inside Drageda territory with no better explanation than a couple stuttered words.

Verx teetered somewhere between happy to see her and wondering what she was doing here — that much was clear by his entire demeanor and his gruff tone of voice. Men were always so hot-headed, were they not? Of course he couldn’t just be happy to see her and then welcome her into her new home, no, he had a point to prove and a meaning to make known; though his bemused shake of the head belied his true feelings. 

Isleña allowed the wagging of her tail to slow but it did not stop — instead her tail hung low, making wide sweeps against the dusty ground beneath the redwoods, letting the hulking brute know that she understood her position in this particular interaction of theirs. Instead of the smile of joyous recognition, the banshee let a simpering smirk settle upon her sable features. Isleña crooked a eyebrow suggestively at him. 

“For me,” she said in her clearest of common tongue, trying to enunciate every syllable.  Then her eyes searched his, trying to gauge his reaction to this news. The woman didn’t exactly want to step on any toes, not when she found the fates had smiled upon her so.  Isleña repeated “Home for me,” and stepped a half-step closer, unable to resist a slight jest. He wouldn’t know what she was saying after all — never had — so why miss out on some of the fun? “Çox uca, dostum olmayın. Siz burada patronuz, amma yataq otağınızın başçısı oldum.” The words slid huskily off her tongue. Perhaps she was not being so sly, after all.

Somebody let you in? he asked incredulously, jerking his chin at the borders. So I'm supposed to believe that you're just. . .here? For real? And then she began to speak in her own language, a jest in her voice, and he groaned, rolling his eyes skyward. Not this song and dance again.

Can you please stop doing that? I swear to god, fanas, I have no qualms ripping your pretty tongue out and feeding the fish with it. Why do you keep speaking when you know I don't understand you?

Vercingetorix stopped, glaring down at her. Isn't that annoying? he asked sardonically. Can we be real, here? Who let you stay? H-- He clamped his mouth shut, waiting for her response instead. Anything he said could just as well be parroted back; he wanted to hear a name learned, rather than supplied.

He didn’t back down despite her agreeable airs, nor did he totally understand the meaning of her choppily put-together explanation. Isleña grit her teeth together as his tone turned even more bitter, taking offense to her jests — men were simply the worst when guarding their own soil, weren’t they? Isleña, from a nomadic family, did not truly see the value in creating domicile in just one place, and thought his temperamental displays to look hot headed and overdramatic. Not that she wasn’t used to all things hot-headed and overdramatic, it was the Luk’s specialty after all, but she wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of it.

The banshee’s demeanor melted considerably and fell back, feeling the anxiety bite at the back of her throat just as it had when her place amongst the tangle had been discovered. Cockiness was getting her no where, and a wolf with no allies was as good as dead. The woman’s confident gaze dropped to her pointed paws and she held it there for a moment, silent, thinking about what she could possibly say next to 1) placate him, 2) explain who invited her here, 3) entice him or 4) all of the above. In the end, Isleña decided to go with authenticity — her story was sad enough on its own, after all, and did not need any frills to inspire compassion.

Isleña and her sea gaze glanced back up at him, beseechingly, simply asking for understanding. “…is…” she began slowly, tasting the word on her tongue as she had once tasted the man before her. “hard. For talking...” What was? Both speaking the common tongue, as well as a life without her family. He knew how much they meant to her; how offended she had become when he had suggested that she might be alone. “All Khorasan… gone.” Then, a sincere moment of silence fell over them as the weight of those words crushed her.

Isleña hauled in a breath, unable to fake the amount that this sucked. It was impossible to summarize what had happened, but Isleña continued to push the limits of her nascent vocabulary and avoided lapsing into her family’s tongue, no matter how comforting the sounds might be to her own ears. “Today Dradego,” the cinder fae finished with a grimace, because she knew she was pronouncing that word wrong and she didn’t want to seem ungrateful. “Think — thank you Mall-ee and Ore,” she finished finally and closed her eyes. That had been exhausting.

Man, this conversation took a turn. He felt like an asshole as she began to speak haltingly in the common tongue, and grimaced, waiting for her to finish. Mallaidh and Aure. Neither of them leaders; he felt fairly confident that she hadn't heard their names before and picked them up for later use. She was, it seemed, actually telling the truth.

I'm sorry, Verx said, knowing he had to make an effort to be contrite. It's hard to learn a different language, I know. I can help you with that, especially since you're staying here. He let a small smile curve his lips once more, giving her a nod. Welcome to Drageda, he added, giving each syllable weight and space.

He lifted his chin, peering across the landscape. You wanna take a look around with me? Explore your new home? he asked, flicking his ears toward her to mirror his spoken query.

Her efforts had paid off, and Isleña was quit proud at having made her meaning known despite the language barrier. It was such a foreign thing in this land; to speak and be understood, to ask for something and to receive it. It was a nice feeling, for once. For the first time in a long time, Isleña felt a small spark deep in her chest that she had only ever felt with her family, up to this point. It jumped up out of her chest and licked at the back of her throat, then manifested in her ardent attentions through a poignant narrowing of her eyes and husky tone of voice. 

“Drageda,” she parroted, finally confident in her pronunciation — and it showed. “Want Khorasan…” she bumbled for no reason, save to let Verx know that she had not willingly left her family to join up with him and his other coastal wolves. She was thankful for them, yes, but her appearance here was not a matter that she took lightly and hoped that he would not, either. After all, what had happened to her family might also befall these Drageda wolves too — she hoped not, but she really didn’t have any indication that it wouldn’t, did she?

She sighed, incidentally lapsing into her mother tongue as she stammered. “…amma…İndi…” then she huffed, realizing how useless it all was. 

A least Vercingetorix seemed in better spirits. He seemed chatty once again, looking for the landscape and back to her; eager to do something. It was cute, really. The roan flame didn’t say anything in response to his question, but certainly appeared to be interested in his doings because she followed the man’s lead; looking back and forth across the expansive, seaside forest. She’d relented to the fact that she’d have to do anything that was now required of her; thus was her new lot in life; but, see how he had softened up when he was secure in knowing that he was the boss? If that was the case, she’d follow his example like a dedicated student, learning the ways of her new home.

Khorasan. Not anywhere or anything that was familiar to him; likely her old home, or a family member, somewhere far away. He felt sorry for her suddenly, in this moment. Alone in this world, lost from everything she'd ever known. Vercingetorix had been lucky to have roots all his life. He couldn't imagine them ripped up.

Unable to resist, he bent to touch his muzzle to her shoulder, the kindest, most docile caress he'd given her since they'd met. Come on, I'll give you a tour, Verx said gently, taken by sympathy. It's a lot less scary in a new place when you can find your way around. He began to walk off, waiting for her to match strides with him before he increased his pace.