Silence captured her breath, stilled her beating heart, and then resumed again.

Vaelora woke to the hooting of a nearby owl, the song attuned to the melody of the woods, as a chorus of croaking frogs harmonized with the growing night. The woman shifted against her side, digging her flank deeper into the surprising softness of a once sun-baked field of growing grass. Comfortable - so unlike the life she remembered before.

Slowly, the fluttering of lashes behind a gentle salmon hue opened wide toward a backdrop of half-wilted flowers and a widening meadow that touched the sky along a horizontal plane.

A grunt escaped her lips, a wavering breath hoisted from a place within, as the woman twisted herself to her stomach, blinking mercilessly at a field she did not recognize. Where was she?

A twist of one of her ears indicated that the bird that beckoned her awake lay somewhere toward the south, and the wind that caressed her side told her enough about a water source that lingered nearby. She was no longer in the forest she remembered, plagued by whispered voices and selfish smiles.

No, Vaelora was somewhere…far different.

A tongue slipped easily past her teeth, quietly flickering along the subtle warmth of her nose. She tasted no blood, which could only leave her to reason that one of her common blackouts had not occurred. So how did she get here…? And most importantly, why?

Curious and yet considerably confused, she rose to her paws in one fell swoop - ignoring the way her bones and muscles seemingly protested against the sudden movement.

She had to learn more.

With a head swung toward the scent of water, Vaelora decided quickly that she would begin there beneath the growing moonlight; a place where she could drink (a resource she had not had the frequent luxury before), and a place for her to plan.

For wherever…or whatever, she would do next.

skill — ranger 1/5

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the range was quiet this evening, no barkin’ or howlin’, just the quiet chirping of insects and the rustle of the grass. everything that reminded him of home. the quiet nights on the porch with a glass of whiskey in one hand, and lenora’s in the other. a quiet life that soon turned into nothing once she was gone. but the last bit of color he had faded the day eliza died in his arms, her tears staining his shirt. everything good in the world died with his daughter, and nothing he’d do would change that.

ronan shook the thoughts from his head and began the short walk to the nearby pond, mouth dried to the point of uncomfortable. thinking of his past hurt him in ways he thought he’d gotten over, ways that ripped at scabs and scars to force him to bleed all over again. and each time they did, he wanted to die just so he could escape the pain. anything to stop from hurting this way.

he paused some feet from the pond, eyes narrowed on the ghost-like shape before him. it had to just be him, right? ronan stayed still, waiting until he saw it move to lap at the crystalline surface. “the hell you doin’ out here?” he barked, eyes narrowed as he looked over the stranger.

]ronan’d been alone here for some time, accompanied only by his nightmares and the occasional doe that wandered too close to him. but the way their eyes seemed to glow in the fading sunlight had him feelin’ somewhat nervous. they were unsettlin’ to be truthful, pale but watchful. she looked like some magic being eliza loved to talk to him about from her books. how their eyes glowed and they couldn’t be injured. but this one showed those stories just weren’t true.

“new here, aren’t you?” it was an assumption, but one made from observation. she walked confidently, but he noticed the way her shoulder shuttered when she moved. just like his had when he had first awakened in this place.

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this took me way too long,, im sorry ;-;

Evening had always been Vaelora’s favorite time of day - when the cool touch of darkness greedily stirred the sun-beaten sky. With its indigo brush of shadow, the sky became a palette of churning colors - from orange, pink, purple, and blue. It was a kaleidoscope of new and fascinating shades, one that altered and transformed each and every day. No sky was ever the same, after all.

However, it was not solely the beauty that Vaelora enjoyed, but rather it signified a time when the wayward faces of poking and proding glares would no longer fire in her direction. Many, as she recalled, would take their wailing children out from the forest’s embrace and bring them toward the center of their home, which they had always perceived as safe, even if Vaelora had never shared the same belief.

—It did not matter in the end.

But what the evening did bring was a sense of solitude, safety, and comfort to the exiled woman. A time when she did not need to fear, and she did not need to hide. The darkness was her home, and the shadows were a steady, comforting embrace.

Perhaps that was why she had traveled to the pool of water with such confidence, believing foolishly that this world would operate much like her previous one had. A belief so cherishly held that when Vaelora stepped out toward that gentle sound of shifting waters, she had not believed anyone else would be around.

Until a voice reached out to her - deep, guttural, and sharp to her distrusting ears.

She froze - midlap - her tongue like molten lava and heavy iron as it hung unceremoniously out from between her lips. For a moment, her gaze had not shifted off that crystalline surface, that reflected nothing but herself, devoid of color, with eyes burdened with the curse of pink.

The stranger would get one look at her and either run the other way or come flying at her with a series of spit and sharpened teeth, she thought quietly to herself. And with either response, both would certainly mar what irrational hopes and beliefs she held about this new and foreign world.

She swallowed, the action alone like pins and needles down her gullet, as Vaelora finally raised her gaze toward his.

A silhouette of a man, angled and drawn out by the setting light, showed Vaelora enough of his weight and build to communicate what could lie in store for her should her hand of cards be poorly played.

Enough muscle to prove her escape difficult…enough distance to give her a head start.

I’m sorry— She sputtered out as that rosy gaze of hers landed across the yellow-green of his own, I did not know this land was claimed. Despite the softness that radiated from her voice, there was an edge held like a defensive knife hidden within the lyrical notes of her throat.

Her body tensed beneath that twilight sky as a singular ear curved toward the sound of the following words. How had he known? Had she been that obvious? Vaelora’s throat felt parched, even despite the gulps she had taken not moments before his arrival.

She backpedaled a few beats backwards, uncertain whether it was better to flee or linger in the face of someone unknown.

Is it that obvious? She asked, clearly her self-preservation at odds with her thirst for knowledge.

I promise I mean no harm, Vaelora found herself saying - as if such simple words had ever been listened to before - yet, there she went, trying again.