i'm not sure.

@Ivar

The plains were in simple terms, brought out Vermillion not by her choice. Far too open, not many places to hide ; only to run. Endless stretched beyond, there was a few scattering of trees and forests, but that was only by Greenwood as far as she could tell. On occasion there was unusual ones, such as grand openings within the ground, and hills that seemed to stretch endlessly. She saw no mountains, she saw no elk.

But there was a variety of streams. Her ears flickered, the sound of one running in the distance that caused the lil ruby princess to start wandering out of the celtic group and gingerly find her way to the glistening water. Small water-falls led around, so faint with ripples that she watched fish jump out and swim back into it's stream. It was calm, only the occasional sound of movement was to be heard. As she approached, and parched her thirst it was refreshing on this hot, and sunny day.

Vermillion gazed around — there wasn't too many individuals she met just yet. Some part of her was scared, as the outside world was known to be full of sinners and heathens, those who strayed from the High Elk and yet — the mark upon her chest says she too, was quite close to that path, if not already on. No more did she hear of those lessons, or looks upon the other Deorwines. In a land where none cared for her pelt it was..

Almost too peaceful to be true.

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Unbeknownst to him, his father now traversed the land he had woken up in all those months ago, younger and crazier than he had been in his more experienced days but it was that very father that Ivar resembled as he skulked across the greenery. His head low between his shoulder blades as he moved, his multicoloured gaze taking in the land.

It reminded him somewhat of Odins Reach. Of his home, where he had been born. His lip curled in annoyance, the idea of what could have been had he not been run out for his blood. His father had been murdered and for the way he was the closest to a genuine claim, Ivar had been sought to follow. He had ran and ran, surviving just barely.

Here... he was surviving. Ivar's features set with a scowl as be moved, being without a bone stash had the boy remarkably unhappy. He puffed out an irritated breath from his nose, dipping his head down to drink at the stream. ^^

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There was very few times Vermillion met someone that was even close to her age, and the one that she did was a young nightwalker girl, @Amata, if she remembered right. Not a place completely unfamiliar, and the first experience of a wolf that wasn't family, or a packmate ; a rather breather, and a most likely shocker as well to the new world that opened up. Slowly, was she introduced to quite a few individuals, and one that'd she never forget, but never know of again.. Whoever Dues was, would remain a mystery. A deer, that was unholy everyway, but gave her light like no other.

In the distance she saw someone, someone young and almost, by the definition of a holy man, if not for the white legs that she saw behind him. Although some part of her was dazzled by his looks, he held a dark front with a lighter back that reminded her of shadows and light. She could feel a blush flown to her cheeks, a flushed heat that came forth and even her paws as well ; but her mind muddled it was the first time, she saw someone, a boy of her age.

She was a bit too excited maybe, and stayed distances away, ruby-eyes looking in his direction.

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It had been in his periphery that he saw her. He hovered his mouth over the water as he drew the last droplets from his previous sip from his lips, lifting his bi-coloured gaze to where she loomed. Loomed seemed to not be right for even from this distance, he could see she wasn't particularly... big. Ivar narrowed his gaze to her, seeing that she was just staring at him and he huffed, puffing his cheeks up as he lifted his head to make it known he saw her now.

Ivar shifted on his paws as he appraised her, ever the silent type and would drink her in. She was delicate looking, not at all fit for the life of a Viking yet he supposed that it didn't matter, his culture was not dominant in this place so she could be as delicate as she wanted, he guessed. Still, it appealed to the boy as something stirred in his belly. Roses could be pretty, he supposed, though he thought that maybe this one was without its thorns.

He pulled his brows together in thought, confused by her and really, he was still somewhat in a bad mood over his bones. "What?" the English he knew was not experienced yet it was enough to get him by, severely accented and thick as it left his tongue. Ivar frowned. ^^

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And he looked at her, thought frowned.

She averted her gaze and looked down, feeling a bit embarassed by staring at him so, manners seemed to be lost and she could only imagine the picking of her siblings and the minor lecture from her own mother. Though none were here, only a silence that filled with her taking to another pack and running away so ; although with permission, it more felt of a castaway runaway, for her mother, Vermillion was another pawn to make, and not one that was truly of use like that of Warwick.

It was a wondering if she was missed.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare," and after moments of silence, the best she thought was to own-up to and apologize meekly to the stranger. An unfamiliar accent but not one that she couldn't understand, but everything about him was a curiosity that drew Vermillion wanting to know more. Nothing felt more exciting to someone of her own age, of different mysteries to boot ; but she.. She worried she was annoyance.

"I, uhm.." But she wasn't sure what to say then, and bit her lip.

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A skittish thing, he thought as he eyed her with brief amusement. His features did not change from the stormy, confused look yet the way his multicoloured gaze would glisten with amusement was enough for him. She apologised and he hummed, lifting his chin as he regarded her. The way she looked so very little and nervous stirred his belly, something unknown and he tried to ignore it as he looked at her, wondering if she would finish her later sentence or if she would keep stuttering.

He had no goddamn bones, okay, and that was still really fucking annoying. Ivar suffered a sigh as a thought came to mind: she was nervous at a distance. Would she still be nervous if there was very little between them? Wickedly he thought yes and perhaps that's what spurred him on and not the stirring in his belly. Either way the boy would move, stepping into the stream that cast the small distance between them and waded, uncaring to the way his legs would now soak and his chest touched down against the water, tail arching behind him as he moved.

Still did the boy remain silent, gaze never wavering from her as he bled from the water and towards her, steps slow and ears tilting forward. Would she react now? ^^

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Vermillion was not expecting him to approach, and looked to be flustered as she wasn't sure whether to move out of his way, leave, or stay — so planted that she was, ruby-eyes gazing everywhere but him in a mild confusion of what, should be done? No words came, just silent approaching through the streams as this strange yearling came forward — he held no scents to him, not even a partner through the land and couldn't help but wonder why was someone so young, young like her, appearing by himself? Though when she thought of her gray-brother.. Some part felt saddened to think if he too, held troubles at home-life.

She wasn't sure to say by his approach and just, "do you.. need something?"

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She looked everywhere but him. Ivar's lips quirked as he appraised her, his multicoloured gaze unmoving from her petite frame. His tongue came to toy with his canines when she remained frozen to the spot and as he drew closer, he could tell he had been right. So very short. He loomed above her, voice silent in his throat and he did not stop until he was a hair widths from her, her question ghosting along his fur.

Did he need something? Didn't they all? He had gotten fuck all that he had wanted since life went tits up, his father ambushed, murdered, the strong lineage being torn apart the lands and he, forced to flee for his life because of the blood that flowed in his veins. Miriam had failed him. Half-face was unimportant, a giant question in his mind but he had no desire to be around Ivar and in truth, it didn't bother him -- he had been somewhat familiar, though.

"Name," the boy grunted, wondering if she would step away from him. Wondering if she would get the very simple desire from his one-worded answer. He wanted to know her name. ^^

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She never been so close to someone of her age, a boy, of her age, that wasn't family. There was one fleeting so long ago, but he was just a breath away that she could feel her cheeks warm as well — everything, felt warm with the thumping of her heart. He was handsome, especially his eyes. They were intertwined with more then just one color that she couldn't help but look at them, "Vermillion," she said during so.

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Still she didn't move.

Curious.

The little flower was not withering beneath his invasion.

Vermillion. He narrowed his eyes at her, calculative as he roved his attention over her face. He focused on her eyes then, red, so very red. His tongue came to roll over his lips in thought as he nodded, "litla blóm," — little flower he hummed, a language likely unheard of by her ears but he didn't care to automatically clarify. Ivar leaned down further as he came to sniff at her cheeks, stepping forward one step as he sniffed her, curious by the little thing and her willpower to remain where she stood. ^^

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