Barrow Fields yo adrian!

@Wraen

He wanted to be closer to the sea, so he followed the distant smell of salt in the air, though all the while not wanting to get too far from the gang. Rolling coastal fields were his reward, and he galloped happily through them, tongue lolling from his mouth. He looked daft and cared not. Every once in a while, it felt good to play like a child.

What, were you gonna come judge a dude nearly the size of a small bear? Fuck off.

Eventually, Verx drew to a halt near the edge of the field, where the land began to slope down toward the sea. It was visible, here, and he watched the waves for a while, then closed his eyes in bliss as the wind tossed his ebony pelt here and there. Now, this. . .this was heaven.

After the funny encounter with the russet coywolf a day earlier and a successful hunt in the evening Wraen had returned to Barrow fields again. For practical reasons such as food and possible entertainment alike. Maybe she would run into him again. Or that girl from Drageda - Sequoia - because her home was not far from, where she and Maia had stationed themselves for the time being. It would be nice seeing the youth again. 

However, this time she met neither of the two, but caught scent and recent pawprints left by a third. Out of curiosity, she followed them all the way through between mounds, until she reached the place, where the fields ended by a steep cliff at the ocean. There she saw the person she had been tracking and drew nearer, announcing her presence with a quiet "wuff" and waiting for him to acknowledge her.

He craned his head to figure out who'd rudely interrupted his peace and quiet to find her bright green gaze meeting his own. What a pretty little thing. All annoyance quickly faded, replaced by curiosity (and heart-eyes, motherfucker). He took a few steps toward her, a charming smile stretching his mouth.

Hey, there, Verx greeted, eyes creased to slits by his grin. Sorry, got a little distracted by the waves. Turns out you're the much better distraction. She didn't smell much like the sea; perhaps she had come from inland. He suddenly wanted to hear her entire life story--while cuddling, of course. She looked like she'd be a good cuddler.

Oh, no - was Wraen's first reaction to the man's choice of words, because he reminded her all too much of Whisker, except he had not started out the meeting, by shoving his muzzle inside her ear and slobbering all over it. He also did not have the silliness and naivety of the yearling, but somehow his confidence made her a little nervous. 

"Really? Can I say the same about you?" she asked, tilting her head to the side and measuring the guy with a look, then turning her gaze to the ocean. "How can you compete with the glory and mightiness of the ocean? There are many songs about Him, but I don't think I have heard any about you," she said and smiled at him slyly.

He sucked in his breath with a sharp hiss, feigning hurt and dismay. Damn, girl, right out with the zingers, Vercingetorix replied, blinking rapidly, like an injured faun. You think they're gonna write songs about a gnarly dude like me? Nah, you and the sea. . .that's song-worthy. Plenty of jokes about my face, though, he added, shooting her a fiendish grin and sliding his tongue over his gleaming fangs for extra effect.

His countenance relaxed, then, and he let out some chuckles. Vercingetorix, miss, he introduced himself, bowing his head for a moment before looking at her again. My parents hated me, or at least everyone destined to meet me. You can call me Verx. He shrugged, eyes rolling toward the sea. You know, maybe that's why there are no songs about me: what really--honestly--rhymes with Vercingetorix?

Tricks. Sticks. Mix. But, like, whatever. The whole damn word, is what he meant.

The guy - Vercingetorix - played along and continued the friendly banter about nonsense. This made Wraen ease up a little in his company and her posture and expression became more relaxed than earlier. 

"Yeah, either that or they thought they were very smart at giving you such a complex name," Wraen gave her 5 cents about the reasons, why Verx had ended up with such an unusual name, which was very difficult to spell correctly on the first attempt.

"Songs do not always have to rhyme. I am not much into poetry, but I have heard some unusual pieces, where the aforementioned stuff is really the point. Modern, so to say," she added. "Are you by any chance in singing? Cause Verx is very close to Verse."

Heh. Probably. His smile grew bigger as she spoke, and he shook his head at her question. Nah, he responded. Can't carry a tune to save my life. I like to talk, though, he said (the most obvious statement there ever was). Can't ever get me to shut up. Again, incredibly obvious. But if you couldn't poke fun at yourself, what could you do?

What's your name, fanas? Verx drawled, letting his gaze wander over her figure again in unguarded appreciation. Hope it can rhyme well. Maybe I'll make a poem for you. The most beautiful, vulgar poem there was.

'Course, he'd rather just fuck her, but whatever. Poems were a means to an end.

"Oh, I see that," Wraen agreed - the man was talkative, which in her opinion was a plus for a stranger. This meant that she could let him speak as long as he wanted, add a question here and there and have no problems of keeping the conversation going. It was silent types, who replied to your questions without asking anything in return, that she usually struggled with. "I have heard that under dire circumstances, shoving a foot down your throat can help to shut up," she added with a cheeky grin.

"My name is Renevermind," for some reason she refrained from revealing her true identity, using a pseudonym that her friend Bernard had once given her out of sheer misunderstanding. She liked the sound of it. And... "I think it is rhymey enough - you can come up with something," she added.

Don't you start. That's one of my kinks, Vercingetorix drawled, his face bland. After a moment of this facade, he broke into his usual megawatt smile, shaking his head. Nah, I won't shut up until I'm dead. Guy who puts me under is gonna be a national hero. He was enjoying this, especially when she lobbed a pseudonym his way. L.m.f.a.o.

He sighed in exasperated fashion, rolling his eyes skyward. Girl, you're playing me right now, he groaned, leveling an accusatory stare at her. Don't pull some fake name shit on me. I could have pretended to be someone a lot cooler if I knew you were a con artist. He clucked his tongue, feigning intense disapproval. And here I thought you were a good girl.

Verx wondered just how far he could go before she would stop putting up with his incessant bullshit.

"Do you think that you think that they do not talk in Hell? I have heard that there are already very interesting people down there - I would love to have a chat, if I were you," Wraen suggested with a mischievous grin. "And from what I have heard - demon chicks are really hot, but hard to impress... not that I care much, but you would want to polish up your verbal skills, while still kicking around on this Earth."

Wraen laughed heartily in response to his accusation of not being honest with him - boy, was she enjoying this a lot. "I may be on the same side with angels, but I never said that I was one of them," she said. "I have many names, this is just one of them and as real as it gets. And this is the easiest to spell, by the way. The others will simply make you brain bleed."

He let out a guffaw at her mention of hell, eyes gleaming. You don't flatter me much, Renevermind, Vercingetorix retorted. I love me some demon chicks. The harder the bite, the crazier the. . .well, you know. Or maybe she didn't. Nah, she knew. Her remark about the angels sealed it.

Well, I'm not a big fan of what you've given me to work with, he said, being honest for once in his life. He squinted at her, taking in every detail. Hmmm. . .Blinka. It means 'eye' in my tongue. Your eyes are very striking, you know that, Blinka? They were greener than anything he'd ever seen. He didn't want to focus too long on them for fear he'd get drawn in forever.

Not that there was anything terribly wrong with that. He just had, you know, other shit to do besides drown in a woman's gaze, as much as he might like to.

"I do not? And here I thought that I was doing such a great job," Wraen said, pretending to be surprised and a little insulted, while her the humorous glint in her eyes gave her away. "Oh, so you have had experience with them already?" she asked, giving him contemplative head-to-toes look (again, if she had not done this earlier). "And you are still alive to tell the story? Wow - I am impressed," she nodded in approval. "The last guy I met, who had had a go with them, was covered in bruises and scars, not to mention bite marks and he could not sit down for a long time, you know, what I mean?" she looked him in the eyes and winked. 

"Oh, come on, be creative," Wraen interjected before Verx went to call her "Blinka", which sounded very much like "pancake" in Russian for Wraen's author, but, since she was unaware of this gastronomic marvel, she did not make the connection. BUT... her expression told that so far this was the worst name she had been called and no matter, what it meant in what language, she did not particularly like it. Hey - she had asked for it herself and as this occurred to her, she laughed. She would have laughed even more, if she had known the pun about pancakes. "That's your best shot? Man... arts of the spoken word are really not your strong suite, are they?"

I heal fast, he countered, winking in turn. He was about to continue this lovely back-and-forth when she went so far as to insult Trigedasleng, which had him up in arms rather quickly. Hey, now, that's pretty rude, Verx said, sniffing. It's certainly better than Renevermind. It's a beautiful word, in my tongue.

He didn't really wanna fuck with xenophobes right now. Well, maybe not xenophobe--but she was kind of a bitch. Lulz whatever.

I'm better with arts in the physical form, Vercingetorix said, almost back to his old self, though a bit of pique still remained. Fighting, feasting, fucking. . .those are sort of my talents. Words tend to come second. Didn't need words to do any of that.

"I hurt your feelings - I am sorry," Wraen said half-meaning it, but still found his choice of a word for her poor. Blinka could be the best compliment and highest praise in the world, but she would still have a difficult time of taking it seriously. Because it simply did not sound right. 

"I thought that these were not talents - sort of neccessities of life," she remarked, smiling somewhat condescendingly, because, how low could one's standards be, if he felt proud about these three things. "But - hey - if they suit you, that's fine. My area of expertise might not interest you either," she finished, getting to her feet and stretching, preparing to leave. 

"Well, Verx, it was lovely meeting you, but I have to be on my way now," she told him with a smile. "Seeing that we have nothing in common I won't be mistaken in assuming that both of us will be happy to never see each other again, eh?" If there were any more words on his side, she would listen and then leave. If not - she would go anyway.

He clicked his tongue, watching her prepare to depart. I won't miss your mean tongue, Blinka, Verx responded, narrowing his gaze. But I will miss those eyes. Take care, fanas. Travel safe. He waited for her to leave before taking off himself, moseying back toward where he'd last seen Heda.

He didn't know whether it was her condescension or the blue balls that annoyed him more.