[Rosalind]

r o s a l i n d

The hours that Cassian came by to visit grew to become the most treasured part of her days. The golden boy always came with gifts and treats at hand, telling her stories of all that was happening with the Inaria party and the eclectic guests they were homing. But it was when he left that she felt heaviest. "I'll be back, Rosalind. Stay here, wait for me." She would wait, of course she'd wait.

The waterfalls she was housed close to were excellent for drowning out their laughs and conversation, the weeping willow she chose to sleep within staged a sort of curtain to shield her. Months she's spent in Inaria with very few guests who unveiled her, Cassian hid his princess well.

But today, after bidding Cassian farewell, she felt an uncomfortable presence around her haven. It was custom to hear footsteps beyond the length of the willow, but these steps came uncomfortably close, stopping at the foot of the tree. She backed into the trunk, ears pinned back. The paws were red, not anything like Cassian's, and the frame seemed much larger in comparison. But she was more annoyed than afraid. She had no time to think of a new alibi and persona to spew at this stranger -- and he didn't seem to want to go away. "Are you just going to stand there? Come in, then."

She immediately regretted her rude tone; the last guest she had happened to be the daughter of the King and Queen. It was no way to speak to someone with nobility, but she figured that if this creature had any sort of royalty within them that they wouldn't have to be asked to show themselves. They just would.

It came with the crown, didn't it? A hint of narcissism?

@Bloody

[Theron]

THERON
THERE'S A COLD BREEZE BLOWING OVER MY SOUL

Theron meandered his way upriver, prize clenched between his teeth. The big dire mix had his teeth around a large brown trout - which still wriggled in his grasp. It was not any pointed curiosity that drew him to the princess’ hiding spot (despite recent evidence to the contrary, Theron made precious little attempt to seek the company of royal children) but rather an attempt to find a good spot to enjoy it. He could sense the young girl’s presence, could make out the vague silhouette of her white and brown form beyond the curtain made by the willow tree. That was what caused him pause.

"Are you just going to stand there? Come in, then."

The invitation was unexpected. Theron hesitated a long awkward moment - unsure what to make of it. He pushed his muzzle, flopping fish clenched in his teeth, through the curtain of foliage. Pale eyes training on the little princess with cold detached interest. He didn’t say a word. Just strode in, giving a slight shake of his shaggy sienna brown pelt, and dropping his fish on the ground and then settling into a comfortable position beneath the shade of the willow tree. This was his spot now as far as he was concerned and he made himself right at home.

She’d invited him, right? This was fine.

One meaty paw would pin it against the ground before he lowered his head. Teeth sinking into the flesh around its head with a nasty, absolutely mannerless crunch. He ripped back, tearing the head free of the rest of the body and flinging it aside.

[Rosalind]

r o s a l i n d

Theron unveiled himself, a large and unlucky fish in tow. The smell was enough to make Rosalind's face twist in obvious disgust, and to make matters worse, this stranger had little table manners as he gutted his meal shamelessly before her. She felt a splatter reach her face as he devoured the fish, which was all that was necessary to cause her to groan audibly. "Have you been starved?"

Her comment was seasoned with sarcasm, her revolt still apparent though she surmised this guy could not care any less. She took the moment if silence to observe her guest, noting the markings along his jaw that gave off the resemblance of scarring. She had to gawk closer to realize that they weren't, in fact, scars at all. It further gave her the knowledge that this male, without any scarring, must not be as threatening as he looks.

That, or, he chose prey that didn't fight back.  

As he stood there and devoured the fish, she noted that he must have some manners as he did not speak while he ate. That was enough to think of him as slightly less barbaric. Slightly. "If I'd known you were going to make my den smell like a rotting corpse I would've recommended you to a quaint, quiet place miles from here to engorge yourself." She sat, still against the tree, holding a paw up to her nose in an attempt to cover the smell. Not even the lavenders that she'd collected in her hair could mask the stench.

@Bloody

[Theron]

THERON
THERE'S A COLD BREEZE BLOWING OVER MY SOUL

"Have you been starved?"

The exasperation and disgust in the young girl’s tone went either unnoticed or unacknowledged as Theron ripped another chunk of meat out of the trout and chomped down on it with gusto. Just as messy as the first, he had no concept of such things. The sarcasm didn’t go unnoticed. He was not so quite obtuse as to miss it. He didn’t really understand why the sudden venom in her tone however - he supposed it was like with Haylyn awhile back? Oh well, he didn’t give a shit.

He paused before muttering an answer to the question. “No.” His voice was low and rumbling. “Lots of game here.”

“If I'd known you were going to make my den smell like a rotting corpse I would've recommended you to a quaint, quiet place miles from here to engorge yourself."

He regarded the young girl with a blank stare. His white eyes piercing and cold as he judged how to react to that. In the end, he decided he was likely bothering her far more than the other way around. Not like she was a threat either. If she wanted she could leave. He spat a couple of tiny fishbones away, and had zero care for where they landed. He wondered, in that moment if the young girl had ever gone hungry before -- he figured not.

“Food is food.” He grumbled, with all the eloquence one would expect of a brute like him. “You hungry...?”

[Rosalind]

r o s a l i n d

The way the stranger spoke hinted towards more assumptions for Rosalind to make. He didn't seem like he was from Inaria, for starters. The few that she's met that have their roots planted in the kingdom were courteous and well-spoken... he lacked both qualities. Furthermore, he didn't seem to care for who she was or why she was hiding. His unexpected arrival should stir her, but knowing she didn't have to play a facade made her feel more at ease - much less vulnerable.

Her shoulders dropped and her breathing found its pace once more, stepping closer as he described how there was plenty of food here and so obviously he wasn't starved. Woosh.

Blue eyes held his stare, trying to diminish the feelings of intimidation that overwhelmed her when he first appeared in her sanctuary. If there was something he was going to do to her, she figured, he'd have done it by now. Rosalind was shocked when, in a turn of events, he offered her food. Some of his food? Was that what was happening? She felt guarded again. Suspicious.

"Do I want food...? The fish? You share?" She shrugged, walking towards the head that he abandoned. This must not be the best part to eat if he'd carelessly tossed it to the side, "Not sure I'd like it. I've never had it... Never fished before." It smelled terrible, and if it tasted anything like it wreaked she'd have to pass. "Not a lot of fish where I'm from."

@Bloody

[/color]

[Theron]

THERON
THERE'S A COLD BREEZE BLOWING OVER MY SOUL

Theron munched -- his expression impassive and cold as the small girl drew a bit closer. The pale eyes watching, detached and disinterested, as she held his stare. An impressive feat for the little one, given that Theron's pallid staring eyes were off-putting even to most trained fighting adults. He was just a creepy bastard.

He watched the furrow of her brow at the offer, the curious way she approached the decapitated fish head.  

"Do I want food...? The fish? You share?"

Theron just shrugged in response to that. Likely that offer would have taken anyone by surprise, nothing about Theron came across as terribly magnanimous. He wasn’t - but nor was he  incapable of altruism. Often as not, the brutish boy meant well. He just... often missed the mark where etiquette was concerned. In his mind, he was a capable hunter. He hadn’t gone hungry in quite some time. This was a big meal for just him anyway.

"Not sure I'd like it. I've never had it... Never fished before. Not a lot of fish where I'm from."

“Everyone should... know how to fish.” He grumbles, talking with his mouth full. The exact sort of logic you’d expect of a man who grew up in a fetid bog. Despite the girl’s lack of enthusiasm he lowers his head and rips a chunk of meat off of the trout and tosses it at her feet for her to sample or ignore at her leisure.

[Rosalind]

r o s a l i n d

Watching him eat reminded her of the savage, partially-starved prisoners that her mother would keep. They always devoured their scraps in a single breath. There was little regard for what they were eating, in their situation there was little room for preference. When you are in a condition of being held in captivity, given small rations of food, you must have no care at all for what you ate and how you looked eating it. Sad, really. Living in such an environment, but Mother must have had excellent reasonings behind her choice of keeping them caged.

She watched with fabricated delight when he tossed the chunk her way, finding that she might not have an appetite for fish after watching him eat, after all. Politely and silently she declined, stepping over the chunk and pushing to move slightly closer to Theron; not close enough to be clothed with the spray of guts.

"And everyone should have manners, proper eating etiquette... but if you’re never taught, you’ll never know." She was more hungry to know his story; she already quickly determined he was very different from native Inarians. The lot of them pranced around as if they were all immortal Gods and Goddesses, each of them carrying a strength and confidence about themselves. Entitled, even. Especially that Luna.

But, not this one...

”You’re not from here... are you?” Rosalind smirked, finding hilarity in the fact that she, too, wasn’t from here. Could he tell? ”Where are you from?”

@Bloody

[Theron]

THERON
THERE'S A COLD BREEZE BLOWING OVER MY SOUL

Theron tore off another big chunk of meat out of the fish's flank. His head tilting back as he wolfed it down. He paused to give a hacking cough as one of the tiny bones of the creature irritated his throat. He barely so much as tilted his head away from the little princess. 

"And everyone should have manners, proper eating etiquette... but if you’re never taught, you’ll never know."

Theron rolled his eiree white eyes in a gesture that looked less detached and cold that his typical demeanor. For a brief moment, he looked more like the indolent young adult he was and not... whatever shape his mothers had twisted him into. Manners... She wasn't the first to harp at him about that. Moons certainly had a lot to say on the subject. Even Dragon, in her own fashion, had something to say on the matter. Though to her it was more a tool in the arsenal than it was any compassion or tactfulness.  He had struggled with it even then. He had always found it easier to not speak whatsoever than to try and figure out what the hell people wanted him to say. 

"Why?" He grumbled, punctuating the monosyllabic sentence with a derisive snort.

”You’re not from here... are you? Where are you from?”

He was older than her by a fair amount. Though as she asked that question the gap seemed to lengthen. Any youthful brightness in his eyes faded as he looked away, past her and toward the river. Staring through the curtain of willow leaves. His lips curling up in a slight, subtle grimace as his thoughts obviously slipped into the past. For a long moment it seemed he would not answer at all, and once he did his voice was a low rasp. 

"Eschaton." He knew she likely had no idea what that meant. Though he offered no further explanation.

@Vixxie