Mount Apikuni and he wrote it down RIGHT THERE (HIGHLIGHTS!)

Keyed-up Vercingetorix was a lot like a prize fighter in the ring. On his toes, bursting with adrenaline, energy coursing through him like the lightning that had so apparently ravaged this place. Perfect, then. His charcoal pelt blended against the charred rock; he trotted along, bright eyes darting, looking for competition.

Diaspora hadn't given him many opportunities to spar, so he took his talents outside the lake today. It was only fair, after all. He'd leave and beat up someone out here, and they could just, like, do their own thing or whatever there.

God, he was excited for the kids to be old enough to learn to fight.

Back in Trigeda, he'd helped to train goufas. Some took to it naturally, others were a challenge. He himself had taken to it like a fish to water, and it was something that he didn't necessarily flaunt--but he didn't have to. He was fucking huge; who was going to fuck with him? Anyway, the humor was a defense mechanism, he supposed, trying to put people at ease.

Because if you were standing and talking to the lupine version of the Incredible fucking Hulk, you'd better hope that he was laughing and smiling and not about to blow a gasket.

*yeets Elve towards this* she's not much of a fighter ? but feel free to like totally attack her if you're set on a spar

The healer was uncertain of whether she wished to dare the mighty range of Sunspire. Alone in the world, uncertain of what dangers it might hold, the elf debated internally whether to climb the summits in order to reach whatever wonders lay on the other side or simply skirt around it completely. In the end, she choose to investigate the peak known as Mount Apikuni to the locals in hopes of gaining a view of what awaited her in the mountains. 

At first glance, the slopes were idyllic. Green lush pastures dotted with spring blooms; a gentle breeze stirring the budding leaves of the ringed conifers and her own creamy pelt alike. 

Yet, as Elve continued west and her cyan gaze fell upon the evidence of ruin and tragedy - a queer feeling settled beneath her skin, a prickling discomfort that had nothing to do with her physical state. 

It is much like you, a voice whispered from somewhere within. The cursed woman halted aprubtly, graceful stride stuttering as the words struck her with the weight of unacknowledged truth. 

Beneath a veneer of pretense, a falsehood of coping, lies untold horrors. 

Her eyes flickered shut, memories of a girl kissed by snow dancing beneath her lids. Rage and grief flowed through her veins by turn - a fire that she could not light for she had never been trusted with matches. 

Were she alone, a tear might fall. A soft keen of lost might leave her lips. 

But alone she was not. 

Her eyes opened wearily, locking on the nearby figure of a dark brute as he lumbered onto the scene with the slow, steady pace of a man who fears none. 

Caution urged her to blend - given that his eyes had not already lighted upon her frame - to dissapear into the shadows and begone from this wretched place that had brought such memories back to the forefront but a sense of self that had been pounded into her as a child stayed her escape. 

A woman did not turn from a man without permission - even a stranger. 

A soft howl of greeting left her throat, head already bowed in submission as she waited for the midnight war-torn to draw near.

Not a lion, but a lamb, came to meet the fearsome warrior. Except he doubted this was some Jacob and Goliath story, unless the woman hid a slingshot really well. He trotted toward her, noting her already-submissive posture with a quirk of a brow. His body still hummed with energy unspent, but perhaps he'd channel it into other ways. Less productive, sure, but. . .

What's up? Verx asked, cracking a wide smile. He cast his gaze over her gilded, dappled form, lithe and trim. He could snap her like a twig. Were all the women around here, apart from Takiyok and Blodreina (and that Kazimir chick), so dainty? You called?

He stretched, almost catlike, feeling his muscles ripple and flex beneath his coat, which was beginning to shed lightly as the days grew warmer. Then he shifted, waiting for her response.

He approaches, his casual syntax entirely unfamiliar and leaving the Sami at a loss. She can feel the urge to stutter and stammer bubble up onto her tongue but bites it back, falling upon the customs of her homeland to guide her in her confusion. 

"T'is woman greets you," Elve murmured with a bow of her golden head, "T'is woman is called Elve."

"I apologize. I called merely because I saw you and t'ought perhaps you migh' like some company." The nomad waits then, expecting him to depart once he realized she wasn't all that interesting. 

His tail beat slowly behind him, eyes still drifting over her form as she spoke. Hey, Elve, he said, slightly taken aback by her very formal speech. It reminded him of Aure, which was slightly unsettling. Especially given where his mind was beginning to wander, looking at the slender girl. I'm Vercingetorix, but call me Verx.

Verx's face split in a grin at the word 'company,' walking the line between friendly and fiendish. Sure, why not? he drawled, drawing closer to her. He began to pad down the path he'd taken, this time waiting for the woman to follow. He was always down for the company of pretty women, no matter the circumstance. You could count on that.

Where you from, Elve? he asked, glancing over at her.

Something - a buried instinct perhaps - caution from within that she was in waaayy over her head. But even as confusion met his behavior, manners dictated that she follow regardless - offering Verx a smile as she treaded after. 

She had been made a woman by Raikseiû, she'd been married and a mother, but the concept of flirting was lost on the halfbreed - who had been raised to view herself as less than. 

Completely unaware of his thoughts, Elve trailed along in the behemoth's shadow. 

"Sapmi," she answered, "far from here." 

" 'Ave you always lived here? Or do you too come from anot'er land?"

Never heard of it, he remarked, although fucking duh, if it was far from here. He was sure she'd never heard of his birthplace, either, although he gave it anyway. Born in Seageda, but spent most of my life in Trigeda. Also far from here, he added, his lips curling wryly. Moved here at the end of last fall with my commander, after a war up north.

And that's how his life got flip-turned upside down. But that's a different song.

How'd you end up here? Verx asked. His eyes drifted down the elegant curve of her neck. You come with anyone or set off on your own? Brave, if it's that second one.

The quip and following smile that graces his lips brings a faint grin to her own features, golden crown nodding along slightly as he reveals his own origins. She was just as unfamiliar with his birth place as he had been with hers. 

The dreaded question, one she should have been expecting she reasons, wipes the remnants of mirth from her scarred features but she forces her eyes to remain on the path ahead as the answer slips free of her unwilling lips. 

When a man asked a direct question, you answered. One might omit certain sensitive information for privacy sake's but lying was forbidden. 

"I disobeyed my 'usband, brought dishonor and ta spirits' anger upon my Clan. I was cursed wit' deat'."

Well, alrighty then. He gave her a long look, slightly-amused shock tinging his features. Seems a bit extreme, Verx responded, shrugging. Glad you were able to escape, I guess? But sorry it happened to you. He fell into a sort of awkward silence beside her, wondering how to best respond next. Jesus, how did you respond to that sort of thing?

I guess I'm sort of a traitor to my family, too, he said after a few moments, glancing at the woman. So you're in good company, Vercingetorix added, a half-smile tugging at his lips. Only a slightest bit of pain accompanied the joke. That meant it was getting better, right?

Right?

Perhaps it was. But the Clan was all she'd ever known - extremists or no. 

"T'ank you," she murmured, out of politeness. Given the choice, she would have stayed. Raikseiû could have taken dozens of wives, fathered scores of bastards, beaten her bloody time upon time. If it would mean having Laisse back, Elve would have given every piece of her soul to the monster. 

His admission drew her curious, empathetic gaze. She smiled wanly, sensing he needed to joke about it to cope. "Perhaps we are a match well made t'en," she agreed lightly. 

He snorted, chuckling, and gave her a look as if trying to stare right through her. "Undressing her with his eyes," if wolves wore clothes. Perhaps we are, Verx responded, raising a brow. But he could only enjoy the moment for so long before all of his current problems came rushing, unbidden, to his mind.

Tied down. Held back. A shell of his former self. And he needed to fuck someone or fight someone (or both) to get it out of his system.

I should get going, he said, oddly unwilling to seduce this woman (timelines, man). It was good to meet you. Best of luck traveling around. He didn't know where she was going; he hadn't asked. But she'd gone through of a hell of a lot, and he could only wish her well.

The warrior left her company, looking for blood.

She smiled though the moment only lasted but a few heartbeats, Verx pulling away distantly and sparking a measure of concern that went unvoiced. 

"An' to you, warrior," she responded, turning to watch him go. The empath was left with the distinct sensation that he was searching for something and prayed silently to her Totem that he would find it, wherever he might end up.