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The weather had been shifting as time progressed, the air had a tinge of nip to it’s character in the evenings and the sun felt a little less like a sting and more like a hug. Something had been beckoning her forward, a gentle suggestion to continue with her seemingly aimless travels and find something more. Her small gathering had managed to function in a way that seemed nearly effortless now; communication vocally wasn’t as important as it used to be. They all still talked, as a traveling party would, but each day their solitary exploration distance became less and less taut. They’d learned the parameters of their temporary location well, knowing that they’d all be able to reconvene in a times notice if anything went amiss. A level of security that made the ex-Queen feel more at ease.

She was no longer afraid of Saboro. She’d faced many demons of the past in her months of exploration, many having been far less scary than she’d imagined. Perhaps the distance they all put from the poisonous place did everyone good. Oriana only wish she knew this knowledge beforehand to better it while in the position, but every second she dabbled in that thought path she remembered it didn’t matter. Things were never going to change, because it wasn’t about knowledge, but power. A power that was ripped out from under her despite the thorny crown that strangled her skull during it all. It was all a lie.

The breeze caught her nose as an unfamiliar scent blew in her direction. With the familiar grace she reinstated upon herself in her recent days of clarity also came rebirth to her curiosity; a luxury she wasn’t able to have when struck with fear and anxiety. Her court was growing and she was slowly reconstructing her confidence, one that led her strides to find this unknown figure and start to gamble with god once more. Isn’t that how the game works? It’s no fun when you have nothing to lose, but oh, she only just began to get everything back.

Saboro taught her to be a glutton for punishment.

As she shifted through several trees, she made no effort in concealing her presence. She wasn’t alone anymore; perhaps the trick up her sleeve that she was itching to toy with. Oriana was by herself in this moment, but and alert and she knew her companions would come to her aid. As she would to them, too, as they all began to explore different paths while remaining as the bonded little pack they’d become over time.

With one paw of royalty extending out to the tree line, eyes would scale across the figure from a safe distance, searching to match with whatever colouration they had too. She knew from the moment she saw them with her nose they were no Saboran, which made this all the more interesting.

Fun, perhaps? She hadn’t had that in forever.

If her presence wasn’t already clear as day to them, she’d start their interaction with a typical riddle of Oriana fashion to test the subject before her.

“Friend, or foe?”

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The stunning contrast between dark fur and autumn sprinkles of leaves left her in a moment of feeling both grace and awe; somehow she not only managed to find someone who managed to lull her like a magnetic (all strangers are compelling, but, this one…) Oriana couldn’t in that moment figure out why; only that she was looking at some sort of beautiful, other worldly touched figure before her.

When he turned to look at her, his mismatched eyes gleamed radiantly. Oriana did seem to have a thing for men with eyes like those. However, looks were not everything, and the royal vagrant wasn’t looking for those with handsome faces and dappled fur. No, she wanted someone… intelligent, prosperous, powerful—

But… not too much. Once you take a bite out of that fruit, it always seems to stay with you.

“I believe I am no enemy of yours, But I am afraid you will have to tell me how it looks from where you stand.”

Oriana couldn’t help but smile at his response; playing along, but with smiles and not daggers. At least, for the moment. “You believe?" She toyed with his choice of wording. "I don’t believe in many things anymore.” Oriana would’ve scoffed if it would’ve added anything to the discussion, but this stranger wouldn’t know what she lost in the big book of her beliefs. But, perhaps, he would have his own little demons of the sort.

“However…” Her eyes danced around him, peeling away from his gold and orange fascinations to take in the rest of his appearance. He was nothing familiar, even his scent was inexplicable; but she was cautious. The right amount; curious, intrigued, excited— but she couldn’t let any of that get the better of her wit, her survivability. She no longer had a crown or a throne to fall back on; only the hard, cold ground of defeat and disappointment. “Foe, perhaps not… but friend?” She emphasized, pulling one side of her pretty smile to a pointed grin, a sharp expression that leaked her bleeding wickedness that wondered when it could truly come out and play.

“I am but a traveler enjoying what remains of the forest before the first snow of winter. It changes everything. You are a welcome stranger, though you need not be. You are no enemy of mine either, are you? I should hope not.”

If he wasn’t looking he may have missed the shift in her smile, for the moment he spoke again it faded into a small, childlike face that posed continued interest in the stranger’s words. He was proving to be more than just a strong face and striking eyes; there was a mind behind it all. Friend still had yet to be seen, but an ally perhaps in short time. He seemed as though he knew nothing of her and she certainly knew nothing of him.

Their complete and utter ignorance to one another was nearly perfect.

“I feel honoured to be welcomed,” she cooed, although she didn’t progress forward; not yet. Oriana was naive on most days but never foolishly so. “And I welcome the company,” A foot moved forward now while keeping her composure and doe eyes focused on his reactions; she felt the ground shift near her. The last time she felt quite this compelled, this… charmed by an individual, it ended poorly. It wouldn’t happen again. That too, would be a shame.

For he started as a friend in a similar fashion and ended as a foe. Only she had an empire to assistant her, then. (So she thought, anyway.)

“I am Manticore.”

Eyes fluttered back to match his when he offered his name. A further pact to prove there were no enemies here. Only strangers; but ones with possibly similar intentions. Her past screamed at her to be prudent and her future bellowed her to endure, be accepting—

“Oriana.” Offering in return, as she finally took a seat beside him. There was a fair distance, enough to many any figure on a four sentence basis feel content. Even if he were playing her for a fool and knew exactly who she was, or knew enough about her to discern her home, her blood, her life— that was all dead. Saboro’s Oriana was gone.

“Manticore,” She repeated after some moments of silence, allowing the word to roll of her tongue and see how it felt. “Are you a traveler from distant lands? You seem to know the motions of the seasons.” Oriana did not, little did he know that the growing cold actually itched at her skin like bitter bites. A beast born in the jungle would not easily adapt to the chill of winter; but, perhaps, she could learn welcome the change.

This, among many more.

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