Sunset Valley siúil a rún

She had parted from Etoille once more but had resolved herself to stay close to his claim.  South she traveled to a valley where the light was crisp and golden, the land was vibrant and thrumming with life.  She felt renewed; the travel to the Teekon Wilds had taken a lot out of her but at least now she felt... something.  Complete?

But she was not finished yet.  She waded into one of the many bodies of water that dotted the Valley with the sunset as her backdrop, and took to cleaning the dirt from months of travel from her buttersoft coat.

staying vague

Panic and indecision gripped him since running into his brother, and he wandered the north plains, pacing to and fro, panting, silently fretting. Occasionally, he'd let out a small whine, or lick furiously at his flanks, as if he was sick. But otherwise, he was silently freaking out, trying to come up with what to do next.

Alarian hadn't made it easy. He never fucking had. But Zamael had thought that perhaps maturity and time had given the boy enough of a head on his shoulders to leave the crazy behind. He hadn't--and he'd driven Zamael to a similar madness, as well. A plan needed to be put in motion, for what to do next--but all Zamael could think about was the look on his brother's face. Shattered. Betrayed.

He hadn't given much thought to abandoning Alarian until today, but now the guilt ate away at him, gnawing at his bones. He should have taken his brother away from Sunfil Grove, away from Arnlith and all that fuckery. He could have given the boy a better life elsewhere. Instead, Alarian had taken matters into his own hands, and was still a broken man, even after all this time. And it was Zamael's fault.

So much did the guilt irritate him that upon catching sight of the woman in the pool, he gave an exasperated snort and walked by her. It was a strange paradox--he desperately needed to unload on someone, but the woman's apparent peace made him angry. Why couldn't he find that peace? Why was he doomed to forever stew in his own emotions?

"What are you so happy about?" Zamael asked sourly, wheeling back around and stomping her way. He supposed it would be weird and uncivil not to speak to her, after making such a big show of passing by. What the fuck ever.

Ah!  It seemed as if fate always had something new in store for her.  At first she thought she might have been in his pool by the way he strut by, but when he wheeled back around and accosted her she could only give a soft, reassuring smile.  Might I ask instead, what are you so unhappy about?  Her brow gave a slight quirk as she began to wade out of the water towards the stranger without judgment or fear.

He scoffed, shaking his head. "Might I say, none of your fucking business," Zamael responded, mocking her sweet, non-confrontational tone. That was the thing with women. They always tried to pretend like everything was okay. They always tried to fix shit. That was probably number two on his reasons for preferring the company of men, second only to he really just couldn't stand pussy, like at all.

"You from around here?" he asked, flicking an ear in nonchalant inquiry. Maybe he was intruding onto her territory. That would be great, another terrible thing to add to this banner day. She probably had wolves nearby, ready to pounce. This was just the Venus flytrap wooing the insect into her embrace.

Also, maybe she knew Alarian. Maybe she was from the pack he had mentioned briefly. Which, honestly, would be even worse than getting ripped to shreds by a bunch of goons at this point.

She was not unused to being treated in this manner.  It no longer shocked or frightened her; being forced into slavery apparently had its perks.  She did not cow or bristle at his response, and instead gave him a steady, calculative stare.

No.  Còmhlan de theaghlach, traveling group.  I am tied nowhere.  The prospect of such a domineering and aggressive man finding out she'd once been a slave-wife concerned her, so she left it there for now and did not press to the stranger's origin.  It was clear he was not willing to cooperate.

He was starting to walk away, unimpressed by the woman, when her words brought him to a standstill. Zamael turned to face her, the shadow falling from his gaze, replaced by curiosity. "Teaghlach?" he asked, mouth suddenly dry. "That's my old group's tongue. Family. Are you from the eastern seashore?"

Zamael had not heard that tongue in quite some time, not since he'd left Coleridge to return to his family. To encounter it so far from the cliffs. . .it shook him more than he wanted, and it peeled back the front he'd put up to the stranger, revealing the wolf inside.

"Cò th 'annad?" he asked brusquely, perhaps a bit sharper than he intended.

thats okay zam, i'm unimpressed with her too
finding out who a new character is is hard

That he knew where she hailed from put her on edge.  The dainty woman puffed herself up as much as she could subconsciously to appear more threatening than she could ever truthfully be, a sharp tone to her voice as she replied, Mirabelle.

Her goldgreen eyes sought his face as she attempted to locate him in some distant memory, but ultimately she failed.  If he had been in any of the wayward packs she'd been traded to, he was not important enough for her to remember.  Sometimes.  I am from everywhere, she supplied again.  Less vaguely, I cannot remember.  I was often traded between packs.  A commodity.

insert cry laugh emoji here

"Relax," Zamael said as she puffed herself up, rolling his eyes. "I'm not, like, gonna hurt you or anything. Just interesting to hear the language, is all." His face grew serious as she continued, mouth firming in a genuine frown. "That's rough," he responded, letting his emotions show in front of a stranger, for once. "I'm sorry. No one should be treated like a commodity."

He shuffled awkwardly, clearing his throat. "I'm, uh, Zamael," he said, looking down. "Sorry I'm being a jerk. Little bit of unexpected family trouble today." Understatement of the fucking year, right there. Also, Zamael apologizing for being a jerk? That was kind of like birds apologizing for flying. Why do it if it was just gonna continue?

Still, he should probably show some sort of civility toward the woman, especially after her story. He'd heard stories like hers before, and even witnessed some of what she described. Not being into women, himself, he'd never partaken of such activities--but had seen them, nonetheless.

she calms as soon as he allows himself to soften, though she does not miss (and does not appreciate) the roll of his eyes.  she is allowed to fear, and it would not be the strangest thing to happen to her, meeting another one out here.  it is over now.

although she had never allowed herself to be mated it hadn't stopped them from trying, but proving herself over and over again as a valuable individual had become somewhat.... exhausting.  now that she was no longer tied down, she did not wish to experience it again.

i am mirabelle.  she dips her head casually.  it's nice to meet you.  which is a lie.  family trouble?

He gritted his teeth in a grimace, giving her a slow nod. "Yuuup," he said, drawing out the vowel. "You could say that again. Ran into my little brother after a couple years apart." Zamael lifted his scrawny shoulders in a shrug, then let them fall, chest heaving in a sigh. "Is what it is. I'll figure it out."

He cocked his head, looking at her curiously. "So are you just wandering around alone, or. . .?" There was no suggestion in the question, no hidden smirk in the corner of his mouth. Not as if he was going to step up to the plate and gallantly offer her his company; Zamael doubted she wanted it anyway. And since she wasn't tied to anyone, which means she wasn't in Alarian's group, he didn't feel awkward talking to her about things as much as he would if he thought she was going to go report back.

Not that Alarian would care. His brother had made it perfectly clear that he wanted to stay far away from Zamael, even after he'd come all this fucking way looking for him.