[ P ] Borders

Meala couldn't remember if she had traveled so far south before into the Mainlands. It often felt too crowded for her taste the further she traveled, eyes peering around every corner wondering if she would catch one that felt familiar, though they remained as foreign as the earth to her.

She doubted Clover would find herself here, too dangerous for the bairns, too much of a liability for their roles, though she wondered still where it was they would be found, if they were alright.

The raging waters beneath the peaks from where she stood called to her in a way, her fiery gaze drifting toward their rhythmic flow for a moment before she continued. On the winds were whispers of the Royalist's victory, the war that began again, though she shouldn't have been surprised to hear of it. The Jacobites were a stubborn lot and the same could be said for those who followed Adamh. She was done hearing about it, truth be told, come what may.

With a sigh, the woman found a place along the crags to rest, the noise of the winds and tide clashing making her heart sing. Despite the location, waters called to her as they often did, tempering and settling her mind as streams of air filtered through her plush earthen coat and the pressure caused her nose to twitch.

The water's stirring, she mused, a light smile finding a place upon her soft lips while her eyes gently shut. Should start raining soon. Arching backwards, she positioning herself along the edge, intending to see how tumultuous Sussex's ocean truly was.

@Timolean

code by claerie

Believe it or not, as fearless as he liked to paint himself in front of others, Timolean couldn't stand the ocean. Not knowing what lurked beneath those curling waves that crashed down onto the shore, regurgitating its victims and their mess of a body.

He would not fall victim to the ocean and her rage.

Timolean's business in Sussex was getting to Castle Stuart. Taking the route through the Redwoods would make more sense, considering his paranoia about the ocean, but he's on a time crunch.
The wolf takes his time crossing over the steep cliffs, listening to the roar of the ocean taunt him, begging for him to slip so it can swallow him whole.

The fact that some wolves, in all of Rionna, chose this as their homeland? Madmen. All of them. Maybe even got a few loose screws in the head.

Timolean stops, his breath almost completely still. Just ahead of him, on the edge of the crags was a brown wolf. The Imperial freezes, wondering if the ocean had taken her life and she'd come here to die.

But then he sees a sign of life, she's smiling. Trying to sleep. This must be one of those madmen natives he had just been criticizing in his head.

Timolean can't help but shout above the waves, "What is wrong with you? Get away from the edge!"

It was a projection of his own fears, mentally and verbally.
He could easily walk away, mind his own fucking business and get on with his life. But something cements his paws into the wet stone beneath him. It tells him to try and convince this woman to get away from the dangerous edge.
--
@Meala

"-!" The words barely registered at first. A trick of the ocean, a memory materializing within the rhythmic cacophony of the water, but unlike the many specters that enjoyed her company even now, this one felt.. different. Full. Alive. Hm?

Instinctively her eyes opened then, flicking towards where she perceived the call to have originated from, curious if nothing else. Meala, however, hadn't expected to see a shadowed man standing there. "What did you say," she called back in question, fiery eyes paired then with a smile as she greeted the stranger.

It felt like a warning, a command from where she sat, though who could blame them? Not many, she gathered, would be so close during an oncoming storm, but she remained all the same. It was only after a moment or two awaiting a response that she stood and turned towards the man whom had invited himself in concern, walking in his direction to ease his worry.

"There's a storm rolling in," she informed, her gentle features alight with interest as she peered back towards the waves that rocked aggressively.

@Timolean

code by claerie

The slumbering yet chaotic woman informs Timolean that a storm is brewing. She says it like it’s no big deal, as if somehow the ocean waves would spare her when they became angry and eager to suck everything in its path up.
He’s about to give it another go with his shouting, until the stranger finally raises up on her paws and approaches him. That knot in his chest unravels, and he can finally breathe somewhat easier.

Or maybe that’s because she’s easy on the eyes.

Wisps of her earthen pelt frolic against the salty breeze, an elegant yet somehow effortless strut making the tufts of her fur bounce with each step. His eye takes in her physique, sweeping from her paws all the way to the tips of her ears. Stark beauty-- it’s not every day someone gets the chance to see that.

“Enough of that childish ogling.” Timolean scolds himself inside of his brain, interrupting the white noise that buzzed in his head.

The Imperial soldier’s scowl reappears, remembering why he was even here. Because she chose to do something so stupidly dangerous (and he was being stupid enough to try and intervene). She's got the beauty, but not the brains, clearly.
His dry nose presses into her shoulder, attempting to rush her toward much stabler ground and away from the cliff that taunted them with guaranteed death. She probably doesn't want nor need the assistance, but Timolean doesn't bring himself to care.

“Yeah, I can sense that.” He growls, trying to suppress the anger that was growing inside of him.

Except it's like an unstoppable flow of lava, seeping down the slope of a volcano and ultimately right into his mouth. When the words burn too much to hold them in his mouth, Timolean has no choice but to bark them out.

He tears his gaze off of her face to glance back toward the ocean, “I’ve never seen such carelessness! One single slip, one unstable rock against your paw, you’d be done for. And here you stand, having the nerve to smile about it all!”

It's a freakout, and Timolean knows it. In any other situation, like a battle, this could have been an admirable trait. Smiling right in the face of death.
--
@Meala

Expecting words to replace the roaring of the winds, Meala peered up at the male, his gaze enough to register how displeased he was at a stranger such as she doing foolish, incomprehensible actions. However, as he invited himself to close the distance, touching her shoulder, her skin leapt in surprise, eyes widening slightly as she was led like a child away from the danger, mouth agape as though trying to find words that would often come easily but none had.

Rather stunned, the proclaimed witch stared at him more closely, his stance and his presence a testament to the environment that suited him best. A strong jaw, a harsh gaze. A soldier, yes, a seasoned one, at that. For a moment, she thought of someone she hadn't of in a while, that hardened gaze so reminiscent of the long dead and gone.

"Yeah, I can sense that," he retorted, breaking her from her thoughts, her chest withholding the impulse to laugh at how serious he was about it, but like the storm that developed within the background, the air between them grew on a bated breath. He certainly wasn't done. “I’ve never seen such carelessness! One single slip, one unstable rock against your paw, you’d be done for. And here you stand, having the nerve to smile about it all!”

A smile grew, though it was one more of understanding, if a bit solemn as she thought over what he had to say as he continued. He had a point, one she couldn't deny, but even so....

"Even so, here I stand, safe and sound," she repeated, voice thick in her northern accent, a finality about it as though it were the answer he was searching for in his reprimanding. "Is there something wrong with enjoying what the world can offer, being vulnerable to what's outside your control, and smiling in the face of it?" Grinning, her head tilted softly. She knew for soldiers vulnerability wasn't so easy, unfathomable, and yet she thrived in such dangers. The unpredictability, the madness, even within there were patterns if you knew where to look.

"Though, I can understand the eagal of such a thing."

Turning her gaze to the rising waters, Meala hummed, the rumble of thunder echoing against the rockface as the landscape began to be covered in a blanket of mist and ocean spray. "Shall I thank whom cared enough for a strange woman to intervene," she teased, her orange sights flicking back to him with a grin. "Shall I pray for your victory or your wellness, coigreach?"



@Timolean

code by claerie

Beneath those patchy blotches of black fur, Timolean's skin is bristling like an agitated feline. It just seems to get worse from here, watching her smile so gracefully... even after being chewed out.

Regardless, the sage-scented woman had a point much to Timolean's dismay. She was standing there, safe and sound, untouched by even a droplet of the ocean, only from the slow winds. Timolean could come to appreciate and maybe even adopt her perspective on the world... it was admirable.
The black wolf draws in a sigh, feeling that rocky wall of fear inside of his chambers slowly dwindle down into relaxation.

"Yeah, thank me." Timolean grunts, hiding a smirk at her teasing nature as he steps past her, "And there's no need to pray for my 'victory'. I am always victorious."

The last bits of his sentence come out with a hiss. It was the truth, somewhat. Timolean wasn't one to enjoy losing at anything, whether it be a battle or even just a stare-down contest. Did he look like he needed prayers, or saving? The Royalist swallows down that thick wad of pride in his voice, feeling his muscles tense. Time to be polite.

He speaks flatly, "My name is Timolean Sandima. Shall I put a name to such a fearless and grinning face?"
--
@Meala

The pride illuminating his face was enough to cause her to grin unexpectantly, a memory. She had seen such a face before - on the young and the naive as the old ones looked on them with nostalgia and a prayer that they would not know the reality of war. For one that had reached maturity, such a thing was curious, interesting.

"Is that so," she questioned, teasing. "Then to your health it shall be."

She wouldn't prod the man, goad his short-temper as she lightly pressed against the assumed insecurities he hid beneath the tough exterior. She'd leave well enough alone especially with such a storm brewing in the north.

Shall I put a name to such a fearless and grinning face?

Taking a step forward, she added a performed bow with a laugh, a chortle softly singing like gentle bells "Meala Reoch, a caoineag if you believe superstition." She wore the malediction like the title of lord or lady, her movements fluid and effortless as she swayed back into a standing position. "A pleasure, Timolean Sandima."

"Shall I fashion a guess that an imperial soldier's presence in the south is a good thing?" She paused, her head tilting slightly. "The fighting is over?"


@Timolean

code by claerie