Wild Berry Meadow I prepare for the noble war

for @Zephyr
Backdated a few days

The same nightmare had him jumping awake, his breath gone from his lungs as pain seared through his throat like someone had ripped it open. It felt so real that his gaze fell to the ground in search of the pool of blood that must be forming there—but there was only bent grass and clawed earth where he had struck the ground with his paws while he dreamed. 

Finally he could suck in air, and he did so as he pulled himself up from the ground into a seated position. He panted there for a few long moments as he tried to reason with himself that none of it was real. But the image of his mangled throat haunted his thoughts. He wondered what it could mean. He couldn't help but think it might be a warning of some kind.

With a deep, steadying breath, he lifted his hind end off the ground and moved in the direction of a nearby stream. He lay down in the water and submerged his head. It was icy cold and helped bring back his senses from where his fear was keeping them captive. He stood and shook the water from his fiery coat then moved from the stream and took a seat, his gaze lifting up to the stars.

A bloodcloaked spectre; a fiery phantom painted across the steely dark horizon like a smear of bright battlelust, rage, life's essence in its most violent form. The wraith is shaken by the sight of the silhouette, taking it for an ill omen —

But it is only a man. A handsome, haggard man, Zephyr can see now that he's closer.

Perhaps that counts as an ill omen regardless.

Argent eyes flit across the stranger's form with a hint of judgment behind the ice; after all, who takes a bath in the dark? But something else draws him nearer, some irresistible pull that reminds him of his first meetings with Kratos, with Taikon — but he doesn't want to think of them now. Odd time for a bath, He comments, paws settling at the shoreline, stance neutral. Are you nocturnal or something? That's the word he's heard used to describe wolves and other animals that like to be awake at night, at least; he isn't entirely sure he's using it right, but if not, at least he has the option of walking away and pretending he never met this guy.

The stranger's scent proceeded her, and so Nereus wasn't surprised to hear her speaking not too far from where he sat. He raised an eyebrow as he turned to her, momentarily struck by how beautiful she was. He hid it well—he'd had a lot of practice keeping his feelings off his face. Oh? Did the gods convene and decide there was an appropriate time to bathe? he asked, allowing a playful smirk to curve one side of his mouth. 

Instead of answering her question, Nereus asked: Are you nocturnal? His tone curious, yet the hint of teasing still remained. Of course in order to have a time of day you were asleep, you had to actually have a sleep schedule that was somewhat consistent; his was sporadic—he slept whenever he could and only for a few hours at a time. He could blame it on being lone, but he knew it was what haunted him while he slept that was mostly to blame.