Stavanger Bay you are the night-time terror

In the time it took the titan before her to process and react to her inquiry, Aure couldn't help the impish squint in her eyes, nor the blithe curl in her lips. It was not her intention charm the colossus into allowing her to linger, heavens-forbid. Any other traveler might have vanished the moment they'd seen him; but she wasn't any other traveler, foolish as this situation might be.

As her own fey gaze bore right back into his, she continued, "Ever since I arrived to these Wilds, these stars have caused me nothing but woe. Turned me north when I've meant to go south, and, then, thrown me to ze seas without so much as letting me know their formations." Her voice had become a bit wistful, now, if not resentful at her own tirade with the cosmos. 

She took in the mussed hackles, the flare of his death-and-life gaze, but kept herself rooted as he drew himself to full. He was right to have become so riled towards her. Nonetheless, there was a twitch in her own muzzle, in some amusement, at how so many continued to defer her with their hulking height. Not that she was foolish enough to say this to him, of course. Even she herself was surprised at her sudden nerve.

Where his eyes seemed hollow of anything but ire and fury, her own blazed with longing. Not the longing of the body, but that of the mind and all of its endless crevasses, "What I want is to learn these constellations," the pallid she-wolf's voice was edged with a vivaciousness. "Not all of them, of course. Only a few names."

She toed closer to him on that crag she perched on, something primal in her - (and the distance, the brisk ferocity of him) - ruffling the fur on her shoulders as well; her eyes keen and wary, but wondering and fascinated. "You could, of course, let the sea have me, too." Her lips twitched, with all the intent to jest, not goad, "Drown me in an inch of salt-water, at that."