Barrow Fields it's brains without hearts have set saint against sinner

@Dracarys! tagged for ref

she's still not really sure what they're doing but she also doesn't really mind. it's nice that @Furi wanted to do something and blix likes tagging along as long as they don't stray too far from drageda's borders. unlike her more well-traveled friend, the gona is absolutely a home-body. it's just that everyone else keeps leaving.

the ginger hasn't made too much effort to explore independently of her friend, but she feels an itch in her legs (not the flea kind, thank portia for that) and takes the opportunity to slip off when furi decides to explore ahead a little (well, she thinks ahead, at least). curiously she pats at one of the barrows - she's never seen anything like this, though it reminds her in a morbid way of the graveyard back home. it creeps her out a little, the way the air chills around these maybe-graves, and she withdraws her paw, wondering if she should turn back to find furi.

The mist descends from a roost among a copse of oak and elm trees, creeping slowly but with purpose until the mounds come in to view. He had discovered them a day or so ago, in the twilight. The thought that these were grave markers must have been common, for he thought it too until he approached, inspected, and deemed them too small. Lest they were the graves of children - and at the time, the thought had sobered him.

Now as the ghost swept through the field, he inspected the mounds with passing glances and a probing nose. He did not realize he was not alone yet - the sky was overcast and grey, threatening a freezing rain at some point, so the mood was set and the scene was poorly lit. He drifted; in thought and in person, sliding from one barrow to the next, until he heard the drum beat. It was low and quiet and missing proper euphony, but it was there reverberating through the soil.

He turned, and was startled upon spying a red-cast creature not unlike a fox following in his footsteps.

the white-cloaked figure seems to emerge from the mist itself - blix had not realised yet she isn't alone and she makes a surprised noise between a squeak and a yelp, falling back over hew paws. "a ghost," the gona breathes out a whisper, then shakes her head. that's - that's silly. no such thing. "you're not, right?" she asks, her voice decidedly not trembling. ghosts aren't real, she reminds herself. 

if they were, though, they'd definitely live here. cautiously she lowered her ruddy paw to the mound once more, glancing at the spectre. "do you know... are these graves?" she asks, not sure if she wants to know the answer.

His surprise is short-lived, as he does not find much interest in a lesser creature such as a fox. When he redirects his attention to the soil once more, the fox speaks - and again, he is surprised. It is not a common thing to hear. The ghost turns and regards the stranger again, this time studying her petite features more closely, hungrily, and realizes much to his own horror that this is in fact a wolf.

She speaks again - and he, still ignorant, merely parrots back to her, Grave...? his voice is a mere breath of sound. It takes another moment before the ghost recognizes the sounds (at least in part) as the same language as the creature from before; this invigorates him, imbibing him with a rabid curiosity. He drifts closer to investigate this fox-wolf and discovers swiftly that they share a scent. 

Mountains. They are from the north - perhaps not as far-off as himself, but far enough. He can taste the cold in the air around her. But, regretfully, the pale man remembers that he cannot convey what he wishes to convey - so he is silent, and his rapturous hope fades as swiftly as it has come.

the ginger swallows nervously as the spectre drifts closer - he'd not answered her question directly, just repeated it, and she can't help but take it as confirmation. she pulls her paw back to her body quickly, shivering.

closer still the ghost approaches her; her heart stutters in her throat. "h-hei," blix says, weakly, slipping into trigedasleng without realising. she can't read his expression though his approach seems non-threatening (and she can smell life in him, thankfully, unless ghosts also have scents and boy that's a metaphysical question she isn't in a place to consider). "chit yu dula..? h-here, i mean.." she wishes furi were here, suddenly, and then feels a little silly - she's a gona of drageda, for heaven's sake, she can handle this strange-sad spectre of a wolf in this creepy maybe-graveyard. surely.

It would better to move on, he thinks. There is nothing here resembling his homeland and nothing is familiar, yet he continues to chose the opposite course of action - he lingered among the trees hoping that the dark wolf would come back, and when that did not work, he found his way to these barrows only to be disappointed again. The mist breathes a sigh and seems to forget that the fox-wolf is there; he inspects the mounds a little further, but when she murmurs a sound ("h-hei,") he flicks an ear; her question is as effective, with barely any response from the ghost. But then, he seems to register something, as the flicker of an idea crosses through his mind and he turns his head to look at her again.

Dracarys, he says hastily, and nods his head. Then he enunciates, Dra-car-ess, and tries to motion to himself with a flick of a wrist - my name. After a beat he looks at her expectantly and says, Ao? Brōzi? It feels odd to do this dance when before, all the creatures of the realm would know of him. Would covet him, speak his name as sovereign - fearful if they spoke it in the night, mystified by it. Yet here in this new place where he meant nothing, he could not even hold a conversation.

he does not answer her but he also does not move closer, and after a few moments her heart slows its erratic pace as she takes a handful of deep breaths. he's not doing much to assuage her suspicions that he might be spectral, given the way he seems to forget she's there. blixen takes a step back, ready to exit this creepy graveyard for good, but then the maybe-ghost-wolf turns and looks at her again.

yeah, that's still creepy. dracarys, he says, and then repeats it slowly - she blinks, confused. "dracayrs?" what could that mean, the gona wonders. she gets no illumination as he goes on to say more strange-sounding words. "um," she says, "oh, wait. is dracarys your name?" it occurs to her that maybe he doesn't speak common or trig. 

ghosts could probably speak common at least, right? unless they died before it became the language of the teekons... man, she wishes furi were here. working off the assumption that the ghost's name is indeed dracarys, blix gestures to herself with a paw and says, "i'm blixen. blix," hoping it'd be clear enough for him to understand, possibly undead language barrier and all considered. feeling somewhat more in control of the situation, she straightens up and clears her throat. "i guess you can't understand me..? well. ait." 

if words won't work, they'll have to use something else to communicate. she tilts her head, thinking hard - she's not the clever one, not really, but. she pats the earth again, looking between the grave and the ghost. "are you from here?" the ginger asks, pointing to the grave she's patted with her long snout and then to him, hoping he'll make the connection. it'd be nice to definitely cross the ghost thing off her list if nothing else.

There is a flicker of something behind her eyes, and for a second the ghost has hope; then the tone of her voice sets him on-edge, and it evaporates. This is not a game he wishes to play but maybe, if he has faith, things will work out for the best. He is tired of haunting this coast and to have someone understand him is of great importance. Finally she motions to herself and gives an introduction, and this causes him to nod and smile (a strange look upon his usually stoic face).

Blixen, kessa, nyke shifang. his tail raised and fanned behind his pale self, and he tried to listen to what she was saying. As strange as those sounds were to him, he wished to learn - to try and make things easier for the both of them. The spirit was not patient enough to teach her his language (a language of myths, unfit for her tongue), but he believed in his own ability. Focusing on that one word she seemed to emphasize, Name? Iksis name.. Blix? He didn't like the sound of his own voice with this new speech however the ghost was eager to put his wandering days behind him, so a few quick and dirty lessons would suffice.

the ghost does not exactly answer her question but he does seem to be trying to understand her. or something like that - he repeats her name and says more things in that funny language of his that blixen doesn't know. and then he says the word "name" - just "name", but he seems to be making the connection, she thinks, and she nods enthusiastically. "sha, name - my name is blix and your name is dracarys. probably." it is now, anyway. her tail wags despite herself - making friends with a maybe undead creature is not how she'd been expecting to spend her day. he doesn't seem to understand when she tries to figure out where he's come from so she gives up on that line of thought, instead patting the earth emphathetically one again. "here," she says, punctuating the word with a pat. "you - dracarys," she says, then pats again, "here?" are you from here is what she's trying to get at, though whether she means the graves themselves or just the area she isn't too sure of herself at this point.

It was a tedious process but they were beginning to understand one another. But her attempts to ask him if this was home, well, those failed. She touched the ground and emphasized, but Dracarys only shook his head - I don't understand. That might have answered her question by accident too; but he did look a bit more confused.

He took a turn for himself afterwards - Blixen-Blix, you. It might've just been easier to refer to the red girl as 'you' from now on, as impersonal and rude as it might've sounded. He looked behind her, motioned with his snout in the direction she had come from. He couldn't think of what say next in order to ask, Are you from the mountains? But he could smell it on her. What came next was awkward for him to the extreme - the ghost made the effort to theatrically sniff at her, and the he looked sharply to the north, where mountains lingered on the horizon. Blix -- blēnon?

 he shakes his head and blix doesn't know whether that's an answer or a lack of understanding, but she takes it to be an answer. well - it makes sense, anyway, she doesn't know of anyone around here quite like him, or who speak that strange fancy tongue. 

 then he goes on to address her this time. she blinks, following the lines of his snout as he theatrically snifts the air and gestures towards the north, toward home. blix doesn't one hundred percent get what he's asking, but she nods and says, "drageda is there." he won't know what drageda is of course - and normally she wouldn't go handing out information like that, but the weird ghost wolf isn't very threatening and won't understand her anyway. "i'm from there," she adds, pointing to herself again before pointing back to the mountain-lined horizon. the gona doesn't know furi's met him already - she wonders why he's interested in - well, that direction, she guesses, unsure if it's the mountains or some other thing he knows about.

The ghost deems the language lesson to be over when she speaks again. He is frustrated and impatient in his learning, and would rather get on the move. His path is mentally plotted - and quickly - and seems to be headed towards the mountains. The tone of Blixen's response sounds positive, like a confirmation of some kind, so he assumes he is right. She smells of the mountains (like the other wolf he's met, but this thought doesn't cross through his mind yet), and as he has yet to meet anyone else, he surmises that this is the best course of action. He moves a few feet, listless, drifting almost soundlessly, and then stops to look at her - and he opens his mouth to speak, but decides against that. Rather he looks as if he is waiting, and turns to stare northward without a sound.

they still aren't understanding each other. she makes a frustrated noise, ready to give up and go find furi now that the novelty/fear of talking to a ghost has worn off, but then the spectre makes a move in drageda's direction.

"uh," she says, frowning slightly. he stops moving and she steps forward, bristling just slightly. "you're not gonna go that way, are you?" of course he won't understand her but she's gonna keep talking anyway, she can't help it. with her and furi out of the borders, drageda is gona-less - and yeah, sure, artaax is there and he's perfectly capable as is, more importantly, dio and eske and, hell, nomi, but that doesn't mean blix likes the idea of sending this weird ghost-man to her home when she isn't there to monitor him or it. "look," she tries, circling around so that she can stand in front of him, in the way of his path, "why don't you go that way, yeah?" with her slim snout the redhead points further south down the coast, hoping to get him to change course without much fuss.

Mind if Drac vanishes here?

There was no deterring him. Unlike before when the ghost merely drifted across the surface of the earth, now he seemed to have a purpose. Long strides took him swiftly away from Blixen - although he still heard her voice carrying behind him, the words themselves meaningless but the tone known all too well as apprehension - she might've been protective of this place called Drageda (and any wolf would be defensive of their own territory) but the specter knew he needed a home for the winter, and he had made his choice. Wherever it was - whichever mountain, or seascape - it mattered little. He would find it and make peace.

thanks for the thread!

the ghost will not be deterred - firmly putting him back in the 'definitely supernatural' category. dismayed, she watches his form vanish into the mist, in the direction of drageda. well. with any luck, she'll be home before he gets there. blixen sighs and rolls her shoulders, heading off in the direction her friend is, hoping their trip won't take too much longer.