Dragoncrest Cliffs if you keep screaming your name, it forces the assailant to acknowledge you as human.

@Aure :D Set prior to Thur's death

Artaax moved at an easy pace along the pack's borders, periodically stopping to mark and then moving along again. It had been an uneventful day thus far with nothing to suggest that it might get interesting any time soon. Any other wolf would've been pleased with this, but Artaax was Artaax, and he would've much preferred a fight. It would've stopped his mind from travelling to places he didn't want it to go, as it did so now.

Where was she? The feisripa pictured her beautiful, golden frame in his mind and felt warmth grow in his stomach at the thought. She had effectively rejected him the last time he had encountered her at the new year, however enough time had now passed that he no longer saw it that way. She had just stalled their union, needing to take care of some other business first. Then, she would be his. She had to be his. Artaax had never before been so immediately intoxicated by a woman, and though it can't at all be considered akin to love or anything the like (obsession or emphatuation would work far better), it was powerful all the same.

And it was thoughts like those he should not have been thinking. It drew his attention too close to the other events that had occurred around the time he'd met his golden gypsy. The white lion frowned in frustration and paused to mark the gnarled root of a tree. He glanced at its trunk for a long minute as he considered abandoning his current work and going for a hunt instead. At least hunting, he might have the chance to kill something. That was always therapeutic.

Aure was lost in her own ravished reveries the same way that the feisripa phantasmed about his gypsy. Where Artaax's concerned gold, the skayona herself mused over obsidian; the obsidian of her cove, of her diavol. All eve and into morning -- and any "dealings" since her return -- Aure continued to sign herself with unending deviltry over into the covenant of his embrace. Even a flicker of all of these starless frenzies had her breath mute and taut; had her aching.

Her affections for Verx were only further pressed into her soul, and it wasn't simply in the physical; it was in how he would thrum to her with some enthusiasm, before drawing that lovely slip-up behind sheepish demeanor. It was in his incorrigble, uncouth quips and lewd humor. Maybe all she could do was to scrunch her nose at her stars and herbs, fervently and silently pining for the singular male she couldn't quite reach. Despite it, she still languished into repose each night, with her heart pounding out a rhythm that hummed the syllables of: drag-o-stea, drag-o-stea, drag-o-stea...

Perhaps she simply fell in love too easily, having never felt such in the harrowing years of her life so far. And, perhaps, it was rather close to that thing called love, but not quite. In the meantime, this feeling instead wavered on the precipice of her emotions in something akin to a... deep captivation. And despite it all, like the birdcatcher still, the way she was enraptured by Vercingetorix refused to diminish. And, speaking of Artaax... "Suilad, birdcatcher!" she preened, rocking into a prance with her tail feathering vivaciously behind her.

He had barely set off when he heard someone call out to him. Artaax winced at the voice (which had nothing to do with the fact that it was Aure, but just that it was not Blixen, Mallaidh or Antumbra). He glanced back over his shoulder to spy the woman's approach. In the few seconds he had before she reached him, he considered all the ways he could escape this encounter. He hadn't decided on one in time, though, and so, he was stuck attempting to be social.

"Yes?" he replied, staring deadpan at her. This is Artaax being social.

The question was posed to her as if she'd arrived to expect something from him -- at least, that's how she heard it. She could've said nothing was further from the truth, but, yeah, it wasn't. She wanted company. And luckily for Artaax, or anyone in Aure's presence, once she was within one's sights, she'd keep them bound whether they wanted to be near her or not. Perhaps it was a blessing that she remained as unaware of vacant-intoned words as she was of aversion in general.

All the same, she regarded him blankly for moment, lips parted in a little 'o', as if her words had yet to even catch up with her. Then a smile crescented along her lips, unimpeded entirely by his deadpan tone and look. "I wanted to see you. I never got to thank you for that little, ah, bird-lesson of yours," she spieled, blinking benightedly at him. "We have not spokes for some time. How has ze winter treated you?"

And then, without any regard for whether he would even follow her or not, she began to trail in whichever direction he'd set off into, still smiling like some love-struck lunatic. Whatever sprightly mood her brother had left her in seemed, for now, stubbornly permenant.

Whatever-her-name-was stared at him for a longer than normal minute before finally, she replied to his question (if it could really be considered an actual question). Artaax's expression remained empty, however he realized something rather quickly that did give him pause.

She had wanted to see him?

Of course.

She was in love with him.

Artaax breathed in slow and let it go just as slowly. This wasn't surprising at all. He was an incredible wolf, and the most desired male specimen within the pack. He wouldn't give this particular woman the time of day, considering she had yet to show him any side of herself that was something other than weird and too talkative, but still. He appreciated being appreciated, so he didn't dismiss her immediately as he would otherwise have been inclined.

Lucky her.

"As well as can be expected," Artaax answered, having no real opinion one way or the other. Not wanting to let the conversation die (for once), he oh so eloquently directed them along with a new topic by asking, "Have you gotten better at hunting yet?"

Had Aure been more preceptive of Artaax's outrageous pomp and circumstance, she may've been absolutely stupefied at his own reasonings. Had she not been so nonchalant in her mannerisms, she may've shriveled into laughter on the spot. Had she known all of this, she would've been more than welcome to invite Artaax to listen on how he was most certainly not the most desirable male of Drageda. She may've sneered all the while, too.

But alas, she wasn't aware of any of this, and Artaax could continue to delight himself with the idea that he was the one she'd fallen for. As far as Aure knew — which she didn't, since she was so ignorantly guillible — neither of them would be the wiser to the other's thoughts.

Lucky for him.

In answer, Aure gave a blithe chirrup, "Oh, I haven't found ze time to hunt anything other than rabbits, and my brother." And Verx, something faint from within her simpered. A pleasant smugness at all three notions graced her pale, scarred features, then; Artaax had become the recepient of her sudden, impish demeanor once again. Aure swiveled neatly to face him, heavy-lidded and petulant, "Do you only know how to hunt birds, though? Is there some lore-laden reason to why you hunt birds as you do?"

In a dozen or so pointlessly flowery words, she explained to him that no, she hadn't gotten any better at hunting. His interest promptly began to wane again, but she continued on. Artaax had turned and began to walk along again, expecting her to fall into step with him.

"Because they are a challenge," he answered, "They are the only prey with a talent I don't possess. Hunting them betters me in a way no other can."

Fall alongside him she did, and regarded him with an ever-inquisitive gaze. "So, you are saying that hunting birds is like flying -- almost? Was it birds that you started with when learning, or was it other prey?" Her tail feathered in thought, wondering what to ask him next. But for now she remained quiet, giving him his own time to respond once more.

His boasting reminded her of the mountain-lord, Stigmata; and she thought that if these two might become inseperable if they ever met. Yet, perhaps not -- she wasn't as familiar with everyone Artaax as others.

He fixed her with a sidelong glance that plainly said are you some kind of idiot before he responded to the first part of her comment. "No. I cannot fly, but hunting birds teaches me that I do not need to," he answered, his demeanor settling again. He didn't really enjoy talking to others very much, but he was feeling oddly okay with this. Willing she didn't say anything else so utterly stupid. Hunting birds is like flying... He rolled his eyes inwardly.

"I started with birds and small vermin. Birds were more interesting," he continued, "They taught me more."

Perhaps she could’ve conveyed it in a way for him to understand, but she had a sneaking suspicious that Artaax was fond of retracing back on your words. It was all speculation, although his blantant, accusatory look soared right over her head; not unlike the birds he so intended after.

Aure did listen to his next words; really, she did. But her step faltered, then, and she wavered to a halt as she pressed her eyes closed against a wave of sickness. God, no. Not now. Her ears curved back along the arc of her neck as she took some faint, steadying breaths. Brow veering into a V with focus, she gave him something more to help avert herself; clutching at the snippy way of speech despite being all unawares of that, too.

”Mind elaborating on all of these exquisities that you have m-mastered when pursuing birds?” a muscle flickered in her jaw, and she left her inquiry unfinished in favor of another grounding breath. ”Wh-what they have taught y-you.”

Artaax hesitated when his companion faltered, glancing back at her curiously. She'd seemed perfectly capable of walking a moment ago, so what was this about? She picked her pace back up quickly enough, but he could tell something was still up by the breathless way she spoke. He might've let it go and carried on like nothing had happened (after all, he didn't care), but then she started stuttering, and that was kind of a hot button for him.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, and somewhere @Mallaidh cheered to learn she wasn't the only one he so rudely accused of being abnormal. He had stopped walking now and peered at her, frowning.

"Gestaţie" came the quick reply, a bit of a forceful gasp now that she was doing her best to not realitate with, well, not words. "P-pregnant," and, as if only just realizing his rudeness, her horomones temper flared, and she snapped right back at him with: "I'm pregnant, Artaax. That's what's wrong with me; oh, don't look at me like that. You can get rid of the scowl anytime now! What's wrong with you?"

It wasn't so much of a snarl that wreathed her snout, or some display, but the way he stared at her was... irking her. Her voice receeded, drawing itself into an irritated little growl somewhere between her lungs and throat; ears folding back with the lift of a chin, regarding him vexedly with a petulant pout.

What would he do, now? Ask whether they were cliff-born or no? "Even if I wasn't with childs, there's nothing wrong with me. I'm not the one who gets feathers in their fur!" Her tail unfurled through the snow at the thought as she strightened herself up as tall as her midget ass height would allow, nostrils all aflare. She didn't even know what she was crabbing at -- her threats, if they could even be called such, would barely ruffle.

Aure snapped at him, and Artaax could do little more than stare blankly at her. It didn't show on his face, but this reaction was baffling to him. Why were women so testy about being asked about their well-being? He listened to her as she ranted, finding all of it quite puzzling. When she finished by saying something about someone with feathers in their fur, he merely blinked at her for a moment before drawing in a breath and starting off down the beach again.

"I've learned to be quick, both in movements and reactions," he said, answering the question she'd posed prior to her meltdown as though that whole ugliness had never happened, "And to be silent. You have to be all of these things in order to take a bird by surprise. Hunting them teaches you all of these things, but watching them does as well."

She didn't regret her snap one bit; after all, she was certainly more bark than bite. But she stared right at him, scrunching her nose beneath flaring eyes, daring him to rebuff her. Instead, he went on to answer her last question, and she soon trailed after him through the winter sands once more. In the meantime, she kept herself tethered to his words to refrain from hurling at his paws, or what have you.

"I agree," she truly did, albeit a little grumpily, glancing him alongside. "I, of course, tend to hunt smaller game; not as often, either, but it tends towards rabbits. That is where doing serves me better than watching, personally. As for birds... I believed I tried my paw at pheasants, but, er... as you know, unfortunately, birds are not my expertise." Ears stinging a bit with humility, her eyes decided to go out to sea for a bit. "I'm not sure if anything is my expertise, really."

Aure did him the great courtesy of moving forward with him in their conversation, albeit with a bit of a bite that would’ve told him she hadn’t entirely forgiven him his trespass yet (if he had bothered to notice it). ”everyone is good at something,” he commented absently - a remark that would’ve been kind if he hadn’t added though usually it’s at completely useless things in the security of his own mind. Actually, for Artaax, we probably could still call it kind. He usually said those things aloud. Perhaps her outburst actually had thrown him.

She found herself nodding along with Artaax despite herself, ”Yes, I... I suppose there is something out there that one can master,” but it was with a dubious thinning of her lips. It really depended what the task or trade was, but she knew that even the most dull of them had their merits.

Then, feeling some flush borne out of that same sickness from before, she gave a bit of a stamp as she held herself as a halt once more. The gesture was more towards the stubbornness of her own body, and the indecisiveness of its own inner swings. Giving a weary sigh, ”So. Has there been a time where you had to go on an... expedition, of sorts, tracking a particular bird? Or flock, I suppose?”

Once more, she trailed after him again, ears curving towards whatever knowledge he had to give her; whatever else he had to say on birds, despite her intermittent wavering pace that they walked with. As a lagging afterthought, she wondered aloud, ”Have you traveled much, I mean?”

As he continued to walk and she continued to follow and she continued to pepper him with questions, Artaax found his patience waning. She was speaking now of whether or not he had to travel to hunt birds. What the hell kind of question was that? Of course he did. He considered the fact that she must be knocked up now because someone had once had to shut her up and a good banging had been the best option. That thought amused him and he congratulated himself for being so witty, though he didn't lighten his outward appearance at all.

"No," Artaax lied, not wanting to encourage this conversation to continue, or to encourage her to stick around any longer. It didn't quite work, for they continued walking and talking for another five or so minutes before they finally parted ways - Artaax off to hunt and Aure off to bother someone else with her questions, or to throw up, or something. He wasn't really sure and he really didn't care.