Rich Against the Poor

@Cleo maybe

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The roan queen had been on a patrol when her paws led to the edge of her borders. Ullarcraig run had always been close, it was easy to wander to with a slip of the mind. Ira never was one to mind though, rather liking the proximity and ability to watch the herds graze about. Today would be no different as she made her way to a jutting cliff where she could view grazing sheep below. Spring seemed to do the herd well with new plants to eat and the swell of some bellies now showing. Good. The last thing she wished for was to hunt her herds to extinction.

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Nothing had come of his last meeting, naught but a whisper on the wild until he found himself walking north and settling at the base of what smelt like some extremely close neighbours staking claim. Drago decided to remain outside of the borders, monitoring his own being in case he took a wrong turn and ended back at their boundaries. This land was difficult to traverse if you didn't know the routes after all and one may corner you into crossing into unfamiliar and possibly hostile territory. 

So instead he found himself sitting half way up a rocky face, watching the world below with mild interest as he tried to familiarise himself with this new world. Language still didn't come easily to him but he was going over what he could remember; All the english lessons he'd had until everything faded to black. It left with a few blank spaces but he knew the basics, could understand more than what he was actually able to speak. So as he sat, he could be heard mumbling his abc's, eyes following the herd below with an intense focus, almost predatory when it was simply his mind being slow and making him think harder on his pronunciations. It could easily be see otherwise however.

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She would have been content sitting and watching for a few hours to ensure the group had enough to eat and drink. That they took no issue migrating through the Run on their own as they sought shelter for the night. Alas, her attention would not linger on the prey below for long as another sound caught her ear. Something low and quiet almost imagined on the wind. Perhaps if tensions had not been so high she would think nothing of it, but having made a few enemies she would leave her perch in search of whispers.

Ira kept her nose to the wind, searching for those hints of others that passed through her land. Claimed or not she would always be protective of that which she viewed as her own. Soon she would find it, that hint beyond the trees bordering the ledge and the shape of another nearby. He had wandered deep into the Run to come to the lower mountains, his gaze cast below to the very same herd she had been watching with a mutter on his lips. “Have you any ideas, I regret to inform you those creatures are spoken for.” Ira would not bother hiding herself if she had not been noticed already. She had always been more direct in her approach, but more so now.

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The man froze his speech and his brows fell in with a deep furrow. A woman's voice spoke down to the man of fire and ice so all he could do was look up and ponder his response. He opened his mouth as if to speak before the jaws closed and he frowned. Looking back down he shook his head almost pissed with himself for not knowing how to respond. She seemed to be telling him something, about the herd below. Spoken for. It was an odd phrase and one that Drago didn't understand. 

To speak for the herd... to talk for sheep? Why would you need to?

There had to be another meaning and it was something out of the man grasp. 

He tried once more looking back up to the stranger with confusion, his voice husky with it's lack of proper use. "I do not–" he paused, the slovakian accent thickly sticking to each word. It felt like weakness to admit and such a thing was sour on his tongue. He felt useless, inept at simply existing in a world not his own and it was a tough pill to swallow. Drahomír was strong, he looked handsome enough too. He was calculating, he was battle ready but... Communication was his let down. If only those phrases he'd been taught weren't so fuzzy in his mind. He'd been there a month now, surely he'd have remembered something more than a simply alphabet. 

"I do not understand."

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Ira was careful as she approached, eyes watching his calculating should he choose to spring, but she was the one who held the high ground and it was her who had these woods mapped. For a moment he opened his maw as if he wished to speak, though nothing followed but a pull of his features. Curious she'd tilt her head ever so slightly as she stepped to see more of his side. He rivaled her in size, though surely he held more weight. However, that did not mean he was fat. On the contrary, she could see the muscle beneath his pelt. A warrior...or capable paladin at the very least... Either trait would be desirable now.

Finally, he spoke with a pause as he looked to think over his words. He hadn't understood? Ira picked apart his voice, the hint of something in his words though she couldn't be certain if it had just been his voice or an accent. “Et annet språk? — Another language?” Perhaps so, but that did not mean he could understand her any more in her own native tongue. “Apologies. My pack—” She'd gesture with her muzzle to the towering peaks that carved the edges of Ullarcraig, “we hunt here. You are alone?”

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The approach was cautious but her interest was surprising. Drahomír assumed her pack was nearby, simply by the smell of her. Not all wolves were hospitable, especially if you tread near their territory. It was a different matter if you trespassed, no one was expected to smile in glee, but outside the lands? the benefit of the doubt could often be given.

Another tongue was spoken, though it was not his own. At least the attempt was there, the man thought, a faint apologetic smile tugging the corners of his lips. "Slovakian or uh, most slavic," he said with the cock of his head, hoping that she'd know someone of his origin. A translator made life easier, that was never under any doubt.

All was not lost though, for she simplified her meaning and seemed to keep to small sentences. It was a welcome relief and he found himself at ease, or at least enough to relax his moderately tense posture he'd gained since the beginning of this interaction. 

"Ahh," he thrummed aloud, casting his gaze over the herd before lifting his cool eyes to her own before posing his own question. Manners after all, though he was not sure of her position so did not bow his head. 

"Yes, I am alone. Your pack– is nearby?"

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Ira could only shake her head at the man's answer. “My apologies.” She had never even heard of Slovic— Slavic? For a moment she wondered if he had understood her, but based on the look she received she wagered he had not. Once more she would nod to him as he seemed to understand better this time, “Yes, atop the mountain.” She wasn't certain exactly how much English he knew, but so far he seemed to know enough to communicate.

He confirmed her suspicions that he was alone, but offered little to accompany that status. For a moment she opened her mouth to speak only to realize her question might be phrased in a way that would confuse him. For now, simplifying seemed...better. “Do you wish to be?” Alone or pack, either answer would do though admittedly she'd hope for one over the other and would watch for his reaction. “Alone.” The word came as an afterthought should he still not understand.

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The placid man felt himself spark with frustration though did not let the emotions bubble to the surface. What he wanted was to be understood and as childish as the need for it was, he missed Minerva. He missed his purpose and being able to understand whatever English tongue this she wolf spoke.

“I want… speak English,”

The utterance was quiet, almost hesitant with how broken it sounded but he thought it got the point across. He could understand her the majority of the time but to speak it was harder. How did Drahomir get across that he was useful, that he could do as he was told? Once a general, before that he was a citizen of a community that could only smother the brightest of minds.

He knew how to do as he was told, and he would do it well. A quick learner, just needing a teacher to be patient.
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Ira would only tilt her head as he searched for the words he wanted. He wished to be alone? For her to speak plainly so he might understand better? It was hard to say really, so the roan queen found herself silent as she searched for better words. “Ah— to learn?” He wished to learn English? A language barrier could be difficult to work with, but if he wished to lower it then she saw no reason to deny him...so long as he could provide elsewhere of course.

“You can fight? Hunt?” Basics to survival and surely child's play based on his physique. “In return, we can teach.” That had been one of Vanderfell's founding principles after all, who was she to deny him the knowledge he sought? Pulling a paw close to her chest she'd continue, “I am Ira...High Queen, Leader, Alpha. Who might you be?” This time she would gesture to him, a paw put forth to aid her words.

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Ira was her name, and a queen at that. Though Drago couldn’t fathom joining another pack he did wonder what potential this leader had. She seemed capable though her language was complex.

And since it was time for introductions, he decided to take a little more pride in his pitiful appearance. He did so hate to appear, let alone show any, weakness. He stood tall, squared his shoulders and set his jaw as he bowed his head to the woman.

“I can hunt, fight. Drahomir z Mora. Slave. Warrior. General.” Those are the things he knew best, in both verbal and physical ways.

Hopefully he would be if use, even if it was temporary.
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can probably close with your next post? Im playing catch up rn from finals so if you want another thread feel free to get one up otherwise it might be the end of the week before I make more new threads that aren't already owed! Also anything in the compendium we can say Ira explained while they walk the perimeter but obviously take what he would understand lol

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Perhaps she had said the magic words, or they were simply some he had heard before. More akin to those who spoke with ease, he squared off and offered a bow followed by titles of his own. The first particularly caught her ear, slave. Rare was it to come across one, or one that would claim so boldly, but she knew it was not priding in that title that held his head high. It was what he had achieved afterward. Warrior...General. A rare smile quipped the corners of her lips as she gave an approving nod.

She had never been a slave, but she knew well enough what that climb was like. It was something to take pride in. “You are more than welcome here, General.” A title he would not bear in her ranks, but perhaps he would find himself akin to one. “I shall show you the land.” She gestured once more with her head as she looked to the mountain tops. He had likely seen enough of the Run by now to know what laid here.

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He would learn this new world as he went, day by day, step by step and this new acquaintance of his was willing to welcome him in and show him how it worked. He simply bowed his head, a thanks for what she said and how much he understood. She would show him her lands, welcome him to the ranks and finally, FINALLY, Drago could see himself with purpose. He did not have to understand much english to know that much. 

Brawn was a language of its own and to fight was like a dance. You had to practice to master it and Drahomir was getting pumped at the thought of being able to be pushed and worked like the hard working mule he was. He would get straight into training, pulling weights and lifting logs. Sparring would be fun, it would be the language barrier between the new strangers, or so he assumed if they were anything like this woman.

This Ira.

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