Redtail Rise What do I stand for

This was what she had sought all along, yet when presented with it - with him - there wasn't a single flicker of recognition. The rage that had flared while she had been with Stark had since been quelled, perhaps doused by the rain which now soaked through her coat. The being that stood before her was a shadow and she knew, somehow, that this was not a good thing; that he was a malevolent force, or maybe that she should not be here — or should not be, period — and yet, Octavia could not move.

He called to her, and she thought to slink towards him, investigating as a child might, but only managed to lift her head a few inches. A shiver shot through her then, coursing up her spine, and seemed to take root at the base of her skull. The sensation made the hair across her body stand tall where it wasn't dampened, although the rain made short work out of that. He was not a familiar being to her, not now. There was too much different about him — and about her — so she was curious, but did not know how to proceed. Her limbs did not want to move despite her insistence in telling them, lift, step, and at most she leaned closer, and because of gravity and the need to resist falling on her face, her feet finally moved to accomodate the gradual lean.

The small movement disturbed a stone which clattered away from her, catching on a tree root, and then came to a rest a few feet from him. The dry side sat exposed like an offering to him, or to the rain maybe, and soon enough the pitter-patter of the heavy rain embellished the faint blue and gray of the rock. She glanced at it briefly. Mystified by the shifting colors, as if dreaming, and then up to his face, and for just one second she thought she knew him, but it wasn't enough.