I stay in another dimension

Faust had been venturing about the southern tip of Velaris' territory, marking the trees with his scent. He had been exploring, for the most, part, eager to understand the land that he claimed. It was vast, beautiful above all, but there were secrets that lingered beneath each crevice and corner that he wished to unlock.

It time, he had no fear that he would. But for now, he stood on the steep ledge of stone, his paws aching but not burning. Over the years the thick callouses that grew on his feet kept him safe, protected.

He stood on the ledge of the mountainside now, looking into down at the depths of the hollow below. Waiting.

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set an hour or so after this thread.

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Gjalla made quick work passing over the neighboring hollow to meet Vahaelarr within new territory that would hopefully be their home. She'd been instructed to find a wolf of blue and blonde — the king.

The mountains were marked with spots of green, extending the forest uphill to climb the cliffs, and Gjalla with them. The princess followed the treeline up, up, up, until a figure became present. Curling around the final tree, paws went from soil to stone and she'd call to them, soft in tone.

"Dārys issa?" — My king? She watched his ear flick back. He'd heard her, and she'd join him. Pale eyes lingered on his features before pulling to look over the roost. It reminded her of home, but green. In the later months, snow would come and it would ring true of her past.

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The sharp feminine scent of mint scathed past his nose. His head flicked, hearing a voice. His eyes narrowed at the intruder. It was a female. Colored in a navy pelt, a true remembrance of the falling night sky. His body language remained firm, unwavering, lip lightly curling as he wondered who exactly she was.

'My king,' she had said. Faust's lip dropped. Respect had been in her voice, but did she know exactly who she was speaking to? She seemed formal, regal, judging by her stance. She wished to join? Was she sure? She wished to join, judging by the way she called to him. Would she be able to adjust to the brutal ways of life?

He offered her a small hum, a resonance in their language had been similar. "Iksan daor dārys naejot ao," — I am no king to you, he'd huff, turning his head from her. "Qilōni issi ao?" — Who are you?

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His words were sharp, quick in her ears like a shard of ice. She would not waver, though, even if she perhaps should have.

Her tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth, lowering her haunches to sit for a moment. Uncertainty would deep into her bones, a flicker of doubt. "Nykeā raqiros hen Vahaelarr. Nyke hope ziry gōntan daor qringaomagon naejot mention issa." — A friend of Vahaelarr’s. I hope he did not fail to mention me. She explained, quirking a brow. Gjalla was very clear when Vae had left her — ensure a home for them both.

Cool winds would blow through the vale, combing through dark hair almost reassuringly. It helped steel her resolve, putting the strength back into her voice.
"Ñuha brōzi Gjalla issa, darilaros hen Stormrift. Nyke jittan zirȳla ēlī naejot seek sanctuary among ao. Zȳhon vōljes ivestretan issa ziry istan successful. Kostilus daor?" — My name is Gjalla, princess of Stormrift. I sent him first to seek sanctuary among you. His crow told me he was successful. Perhaps not? Gjalla hoped her companions efforts were not in vain, but the skeptical look on the man’s face said otherwise.

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Vahaelarr. He knew that fucking name. It was the male that smelled of his sister, then demanded to bend the knee at Faust's beckoning command. He still hadn't decided if it was a ploy or not. A ploy to get closer to his sister. Or a fraudulent claim of loyalty.

"Ziry ȳdragotan hen ao." — He mentioned you. Faust confirmed, unfeeling. He kept a lookout on the hollow below, watching as the clouds parted and waived their presence. They were high up.

"Issa daor wise naejot pāsagon se udra hen iā hontes," — It is not wise to trust the words of a bird, The titan grumbled, words bitter. "Iksā daor sytilībagon kesīr, dārilaros." — You do not belong here, princess. He spoke his words like a curse, clearly having an unfavorable opinion about royalty.

"Yn eman daor drīve naejot ivestragon daor." — But I have no reason to object. He finally looked to her then, almost reluctantly. His gaze did not soften, his stance did not relax. He did not like to accept strangers in his home. Especially ones that wanted to take something from him. "Kesā ipradagon mōrī. Hēnka syt aōha raqiros. Se mazverdagon sure ziry stays qrīdrughagon hen ñuha mandia." — You will eat last. Same for your friend. And make sure he stays away from my sister.

With that, Faust turned on his heel, callous scraping against the sharp terrain. "Yne brōzā 'Sévir.' Daorun tolī." — Call me 'Sévir.' Nothing more.

And then he was gone, leaving the Princess alone on the mountain. He hoped she wouldn't slip and fall— or really, he didn't care.

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So her companion had mentioned her. The king spoke sourly, and she'd wonder what Vahaelarr could've done to earn his ire. Apparently first impressions went poorly.

She let out a small hum of acknowledgement, showing her understanding. Gjalla was not often on the bottom of the hierarchy, but she would make do. Endure, as she always has.

As the man turned to leave, Gjalla stayed cliffside with a watchful eye, and a quiet response; "Hen rhinka, Sévir." — Of course,

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