The evening was ominous. Dregs of mist slithered upward as the heat of the day left, leaving only the soft breath of a frigid autumn evening on the Vale's lips. The clouds above were heavy and dark, threatening with a storm that was far more intense than the small flakes that trickled downward toward the snow-clad ground. There was something strange in the air — strange in the world. And the eerie portent of the world mirrored the storm that swam through Tiberii's mind.

Since Aksel's visit, her mind had been inundated with thoughts. Thoughts of the plague, thoughts of those they'd lost, thoughts of Jakten. It brought a vile heat to her throat, a fierce sense of protection rousing within the depths of her chest. But Tiberii needed to contain herself ... for if she unleashed, she feared she would do something. Something drastic.

Her teeth grit, bone grinding against bone as she attempted to drown out her inner monologue ... instead trying to focus on the task at hand: evening patrol.

Normally, she would find herself alone with the cawing of the ravens. But this evening would bring more. The soft, unfamiliar song of another would announce the arrival of a visitor. As the final twinkles of the sun set behind the mountains, Tiberii would find a new source of sunlight in the older, orange-gold woman. The scent of blood would tickle the edges of the bull's nostrils as she slowed her approach, her muscles tense and her face carefully placed in a neutral expression.

Oi, the behemoth would greet, curt but not unfriendly. The bull would flick her ears forward, muscles rolling as she slowed herself at Dawnbreak's edge. Bright eyes would drift from the stranger to the apparent gift, noting the trail of blood that led down the edge of the mountainside. Tiberii remained soft, but it was clear there was more on her mind that left her more on edge — left her sharper and rougher around already rough edges.

What brings ya ta Dawnbreak, stranger? Tiberii's voice held the roughness of a woman who had suffered much. And the question was a simple one ... but one that held a lot of weight.

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The stranger lifted her head, a smile pulling at the edges of unfamiliar lips. The woman would bow, a far more extravagant greeting than what Tiberii was used to in the cold mountains of the north. The bull remained unwavering, simply watching and listening as the cogs of her brain worked to process the unfamiliar mannerisms of the Sun-Clad.

The woman would try to warm Tiberii with words, scratching at the surface of a frozen heart. Name's Tiberii, she would offer, flicking her ears forward. Pillar of power. One of tha three ... Aurelia was always better at explaining it ... what was the word? Trinumerate? Tripodulate? Tri ... shit. (It was triumvirate.) ... leaders of Dawnbreak.

It would seem, thankfully, that the other didn't notice any internal stumbling over words, too busy, instead, gently sowing seeds of flattery. I've been called many things, but grand is a new one, Tiberii would hum, voice low and melodic. The edges of her lips relaxed only slightly as she raised a brow. An' surely the woman on our borders has a name, too? An' perhaps a reason fer bein' here?

The last few visitors on their borders had come with more ... nefarious intent. There was trouble, both politically and magically, in this world. And Tiberii would do her best to remain on guard, even in the face of gentle smiles.

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