Firefly Glen phantom stranger

ooc; late night. windy weather. all welcome. hunt is just wanderin' and new here

she did not know where she was, only that it was cold and foreign to her. the woman stepped quietly, completely ignorant of her place in this realm. her coat blended into the inky blackness of the night, the only colors aside from her pale gaze was the stark ivory hood she wore. her gaze shifted to the landscape from the ground, squinting slightly. her breath came out in controlled rasps, billowing against the sky. for now, she would simply wander. mayhap find someone capable of entertaining her long enough to learn of this place.

she should not get her hopes up though. many were ignorant even with knowledge backing them. Huntington did not put stock into other people. she kept herself hidden away, distanced and lacking connection. the scent of many wolves rose in the air, threatening her senses, and she knew this much. where there were more than five others in the area, there was a community to back the numbers. packs. perhaps many of them. though she continued to remain ignorant of deeper knowledge. if this was a pack's land, she did not know. the others' scents were too many to pinpoint. at least in a new land.

however long the woman happened to remain here, she would indeed learn how to differentiate. again, all she could assume to do now was exist. her steps crunched the snow beneath her, wind billowing her senses and kicking up icy splendor. it was the white against the black sky that would remind others of her features should they glance at her. ducking into the trees, she would wait out the wind storm. it would be prudent to stop, yet nature was a fierce mistress. she generally just accepted such things instead of moaning on about them.

no one with much sense would be out in this weather, yet it was a bit muffled under the thick foliage. she reclined upon her back legs, resting her rear upon the cold ground. she was still, like ice solidified, and kept watch before her eyes.

This narrow region of land runs wild with thick vegetation. A canopy of greenery hangs from the trees, soaking up sunlight while the ground below struggles for survival. It's various creeks and streams easily become flooded during the lightest of rain showers, morphing the once solid ground into quicksand like muck. If it were not for the countless amount of fireflies that dwell within this dusky valley, little to no light would be visible, leaving the glen to be a dark and serene canvas under the night sky.

Cyclone continued her search for what she hoped would become her new home. This area, the one where she had been meandering in for the past week or so, seemed to be rich with life. That was a good start. It wasn't a sheet of ice like that last horrid place she'd been a part of. She had hoped, at the time, that they would be small enough she could overthrow Takiyok, but that had not been the case. Cyclone was an impatient and impulsive wolf, and she knew that in order to get what she wanted, she would probably need to rein that in a bit. It was going to take a lot of work, but she was nothing if not determined.

Darkness had settled in hours ago, but even though Cyclone tried and tried to sleep, she finally gave up and began to wander again. That was what had led her here, and when she spotted a strange floating head, she was pretty damn sure she was seeing things due to lack of sleep. Uh, hello? she called from a distance, though she wasn't sure how well her voice would carry with the howling winds above. Are you a floating head?

ooc; late night. windy weather. all welcome. hunt is just wanderin' and new here

a voice cut through the air. unknown in origin and unknown in purpose. daresay, what sort of question was that? pale gaze shifted to the other woman, recalling tales of late night campfires-revolving stories of headless or floating heads. such idiotic tellings at the core. her eyes did not blink. she did not move from her spot, even. she merely existed as she was. a floating head, indeed. "if I was, you have cause to worry, hm?" she echoed in her quiet tone, focusing entirely on the other person. "yet, disappointing as that is, I am not."

how disappointing indeed. there was some base desire to scare others. yet that was what it was; a desire was a fleeting thing. Huntington moved sharply, deliberately, to walk forward. she kept distance between them, pausing a few paces away. the woman, mundane in features. the first person she had met here... how lacking in amusement. she pulled her gaze from her frame to look about them. still under the safety of the foliage, yet also exposed to others.

"I am called Huntington" she decided to introduce herself, however strange the situation happened to be. her deadpan expression returned to the woman, a thin smile creeping upon her features. "and what do they call you, my dear?"

Well yeah, I'd probably worry about your... y'know... lack of a body. Cyclone wasn't exactly sure what she would do if it had just been a disembodied head, but thankfully that wasn't the case. Something about Huntington's way of speaking left a sour taste in Cyclone's mouth. It reminded her too much of Rosings. The "my dear" at the end was especially reminiscent of something Addison would have said condescendingly. Maybe that was a piss poor reason to dislike somebody, but hey, what ya gonna do?

Neasa, she replied.

she kept her face neutral, not at all concerned nor bothered by the other's tone. she begged to differ. how wonderful would it be to wander across the land as a living head... no tired restrictions. no worry over food or water. the lack of organs played a part in such a thing. and the look on the locals' faces when one should approach your floating head. it was almost enough to part a grin. almost. though she would miss the use of her limbs. ah well.

"Neasa" Huntington rolled the name upon her tongue, giving a small nod. added away in her memory banks for further use. "are you a local, perhaps?" it was quite clear that she was foreign to this land. but whether the woman in front of her was, well, that remained to be seen. she did not care if the other lied to her face, or spat in it. she would get her answers one way or the other. willing participant or merely looking for the next conversation.

Eh, not really, she confessed. I've been around here before, and I'm here now, but I wasn't born here or anything like that. In fact, there was about zero reason why Cyclone needed to be here in particular. She certainly didn't want to go wandering off on an endless journey, and this area was far enough away from the glacier (and Rosings) that she didn't think either of them would be a problem for her. Didn't her sister lead a pack somewhere around here, too? Whatever, Frog was super boring and lame.

How 'bout you? she inquired. Maybe this wolf had been born and raised right here, and she was getting antsy about some stranger loitering on her homeland.

therein lay two paths to take. lying, conniving, and all the 'amusing' things. to play with this new subject of her perpetual temporariness... or there were truth and honesty and social graces. Huntington quietly mused over this until the other woman spoke again, denying her nativeness to this realm. no, it did little good in this particular situation to play with her food. she was cautious. guarded. "I am foreign" she at least gave the woman that. "what do they call this land?" the natives must have a word for it.

ooc; 50th post woo!

Huntington the foreigner. What a title! It did explain why she talked funny. Then again, just about everybody talked funny around here. Cyclone wondered why that was. Maybe this place was some kind of weird melting pot. To the question, Cyclone shrugged. Beats me. She hadn't bothered to learn any of the names of things. Instead, she referred to them in generic terms. "Big forest." "Little forest." "Ugly forest." "Stupid fucking glacier." And so on.

Beatsme Ravine seems like a good enough name, don't ya think? Obviously a joke, even if it wasn't a very good one.

well, she certainly was not expecting that. Huntington stared blankly at the other woman, having expected some form of information to flow freely. instead, the woman was ignorant of this land and its scape. or rather, she did not care enough to learn anything. how basic her life must be. the skull-clad woman could not hope to live a life of ignorance. "there could be worse, I suppose" she at least agrees upon that. 

with the wind now dying down, she turned her body from the safety of the trees. long, thin legs carry her forward and past the other as she prepares to depart. the other is not even given a second glance. Huntington's pale gaze is fixed on the horizon. she would say it was 'nice meeting you' but it was not. she would be lying. the other hadn't given her a lick of information. "farewell" she says shortly before having the decency to add in.

"I must find a suitable place of shelter now that the wind is dying." with that, she walked off without another word.

/ EXIT HUNTINGTON /

Well, somebody lacked a sense of humor. What was with all these folks and their high and mightiness? Cyclone wasn't sure, but what she was sure about was how glad she was that those who didn't jive with her were quick to make their exit. Huntington the foreigner seemed uptight as hell and Cyclone watched her leave with a sour look on her face. She sure hoped not everybody around here had a stick up their butt.