[Heloise]

Even with all the miles her tired feet have trudged, her eyes hadn't seen such an odd place as this. The smell of saltwater had lead her here, full of sodden foliage and something curiously foreign. The gnarled branches of trees overhead captured moisture from the bog, creating a salty sheen that clung to the air. The roots of the mangroves claimed what bit of ground she could see, so Heloise stuck to the shallows as she waded further into the marsh. 

A bird, or at least she assumed it was a bird, screeched from somewhere deep within. The wolf paused to reconsider her path. Did she really want to walk further into these misty waters? She glanced over a shoulder, searching for the sun. It might set within the next couple hours. Already, the fog was starting to choke the light from the air, fading day to night faster than she'd seen before. If Heloise got lost in this bog, there wouldn't be a dry spot to rest (nevermind the fact that she'd been wandering for the better half of a day and hadn't seen an end to the marsh yet). But maybe she'd get lucky? Perhaps there might be a patch of sand up ahead, or a bit of dry grass to bed down in for the night, if only she searched a little more. She could collect her bearings and figure a way out (not that she didn't know it or anything) after a quick nap. Once the sun set, she could follow the stars of course! ...If the tangle of trees didn't snuff them out too.

The wolf huffed and forged onward through the murky depths. Gradually, the water grew shallower, and her paws felt more mud than sand. She thought her luck might change as the inlet gave way to soggy ground, but the upcoming roots convinced her otherwise. If the waterway had been tough to trudge through, then the grove was sure to take some fancy footwork to maneuver. "Can't believe it, but I'm starting to miss the water." Twist after turn, the poor wolf shimmied and squeezed her way through narrow gaps between both trees and roots before she'd finally had enough of that. It took her a while to manage and required a slower pace, but Heloise found it was easier to travel by balancing on top of the thicker portions of the roots. While looking for her next foothold, she spotted something large beyond the leaves. A rocky end to this maze of a jungle? With a renewed sense of optimism, she pressed forward suddenly, misjudging the distance between one knobby root and the next.

A hind foot caught in a tangle of vines, and down she went with a thud. "Gah!" She yelped, floundering and shaking the branches the vines were anchored to. Flopping in the mud, Heloise scrambled to find her footing but in doing so, wrapped the vines halfway up her left hip. She tugged and pulled, leg stretching and body straining. The vines were thick and young, green and hopelessly attached to one of the larger mangrove trees (it would be difficult for her to reach and gnaw through them without working any past stints as a contortionist). Panting, she squinted at what appeared to be a large cliff up ahead. If only she could make it there, she'd find somewhere to rest among the rocks- Anything but this mess of mud and brine that she now had plastered to her backside as a souvenir. 

A trio of monkeys suddenly chattered nearby, harsh and jarring, laughing. Mocking her. Of course. Her ears pinned tight to her skull.
Heloise growled, impatient and irritable, soaking and haggard- But nonetheless determined. "Gonna drag this whole damn tree with me-"

[Lorcan]

   Goddamn; how busy are the borders these days? If these keeps up, Lorcan's gonna have to find a new job (even if it doesn't-- how he's remained a Lark this long is suspicious enough). He's ripping down mangrove roots when she comes crashing through, thick undergrowth hard to see through, much less penetrate, but she talks to herself, too. Lor leaves his acquisition coiled on a nearby branch as he weaves his way along the trunks after her. He doesn't have to follow far, however, because the dire seems neither stealthy nor graceful. What a catch this one's turning out to be.

   Curious (and sadistic), he watches for a while, he cocked with interest-- and because it gives him a better glimpse through the growth. He snorts as she only makes it worse, bites his tongue and circles around to where he knows the swamp only comes up to his ankles, where the markings end. Mud and white fur don't mix-- that's one of the reasons you won't find a Crystalline out here, others including that an outside could kill any one of them easily. The splash gives him away (if his idiocy hasn't already), close enough now she can see him with more than one eyeball at a time. "Hey, don't stop on my account. You want the wood, go for it. Not like we need those trees for anything."

[Heloise]

A sudden splash stilled her struggles. Head swiveling to reassess her surroundings, Heloise had been so caught up in her predicament that she hadn't noticed the creature creeping closer. This horrid swamp had hidden him from view, and even now she squinted to make out an approaching shape through the thick foliage and gnarled roots. Ah shit, what luck. With the vines entwined around a leg, she might as well be a sitting duck for whatever crocs, monsters, or sasquatches roamed the bog. Great.

"Hey, don't stop on my account. You want the wood, go for it. Not like we need those trees for anything."

The wolf straightened, embarrassment heating the rising fur on her nape. Ah, wonderful, what a great first impression. She cocked her head, chuckling in a vain attempt to dispel her own self-consciousness. "Uh, yeah," -Hurrhurrhurr I'm stuck to a tree- She cleared her throat and tried her best at a self-assured grin, "Thanks for the offer, I was thinkin' of adding it to my collection." And tugged on her ensnared leg for emphasis, long vines shaking the leaves of branches overhead. This whole scenario was totally intentional. Yep.

Giving what she hoped was the most charming of grins at her bad joke, Heloise finally had a moment to look more clearly at this stranger. Were those feathers stuck into his fur? It's not an unheard of practice, tangling feathers in fur to appear some sort of way, but man, he'd gone all out with the blues and greens. Was anybody else seeing this? Had she missed a party somewhere? Green eyes darted left and right, but as far as she could tell, they were alone... Damn, how many birds did he have to kill to crown himself king feather-head? 

Clearly skeptical, she raised a brow. It might be insulting to ask why on earth he'd poked feathers on himself, so she only stared a moment longer than necessary. It's not unflattering in the slightest, but his crown was a bit startling at first glance. Instead of asking why, maybe she could figure out where and go from there. Her nose was sending her all sorts of mixed signals: wolf/not-wolf, swamp, pack, more swamp... She looked at him quizzically, still eyeing his assortment of feathers like they might up and fly away. "What sort of place is this?" Looks like a happenin' fun time.

[Lorcan]

   One black brow marking rises as he drawls, "El Dorado." He likes the name boy-king came up with. It's got a ring to it-- an air of mystery, and none of the political bullshit that comes along with Syn Cardrys. "It's a swamp, which is like a forest, only half underwater." Leisurely, the aviari strides closer, surveying her entanglement. "We've got jungle this way, and ocean that." He tosses his head to the right, and tail perpendicular as directions, intentionally obtuse. "What exactly were you looking for?"

   He knows she's staring at his feathers-- he gets the same reaction for every acceptance he takes. Right now, he's content to leave them lax, watch her struggle to figure out if it's vanity or what. Lorcan's found that makes for the best reaction when he finally flexes.

[Heloise]

Leave it to the feathered bird man to live in a swamp with a name as strange as El Dorado. Her ears flick forward quizzically, and she's still staring at his plumage even while he explains. An ocean, a swamp, a jungle- Given a choice, she'd rank this horrid swamp dead last. The other two, however, she'd gladly take. The ocean in particular had been her whole reason for venturing out this far to begin with. Was it really as blue and beautiful as she'd heard?

"I was following the scent of the sea, but I s'pose at the moment, I'm looking for a bit of help..." Her sentence trails as her gaze flicks back to her tangled leg. "Eh-heh." Embarrassment creeps across her expression, though she tried in vain to hide it. Way to make a first good impression, 'Elle. "I'd snap it myself, but I can't reach. Reckon you'll lend a paw?" And if that didn't convince him to keep her from dying here tethered to a tree, she continues, "I'd owe ya one." Really, this vine was cramping her style as much as it was her leg.

If she could free herself first, since that's her most pressing concern, maybe Heloise could finally ask him what was with all the feathers. If today's Mardi Gras, she's totally going to be bummed out if he doesn't invite her to the party.

[Lorcan]

   Tapered tongue slowly wets his lips while she speaks, just out of reach from how she's tied. Lor loves a good power trip-- thinking he might hit up Moxie for a place as Jay, if the last goddamn nerve he's got for Aine finally frays. He watches the wolf struggle for a minute more, before she offers up an undisclosed favour in return for assistance-- and, with a smirk, he pins the vine with one paw, and bites through the other end. She's free from the tree, but still tangled under his foot. This is just too much fun.

   "What's your name, anyway?" he asks, high voice a little husky. She's cute, alone, and he's bored. No one has ever accused Lorcan of being a gentleman.

[Heloise]

He slinks on over, and despite the intrusion of personal space and his odd lick-of-the-lips, Heloise is relieved he's decided to help her out. He pins the vine and snaps it free from the tree with ease. Finally, freedom at last- Or so she thinks. She's no longer tethered to the mangrove, but he's seemed to have forgotten to lift a paw. Odd. Instead, he asks of her name. 

"Heloise," she grins with a tilt of the head. "Some call me 'Elle, but I don't mind either. I answer to both well enough." Seems she tends to ramble when caught in a jam, both to herself and strangers. The wolf sniffs and motions to sidestep away, but the vine stays as tight around her leg as it ever had. An awkward pause settles before she pointedly clears her throat. Ears flick curiously in his direction. "Ayyy..." What gives man? "Thanks'n all for your help, really. I think I c'n get it from here... uh... whatsyourname again?" Just in case she had to file a damn police report so soon.

[Lorcan]

   Still young and overeager, known as the younger brother or asshole, he doesn't get to be in charge all that often. Take what you can get. Unflinching to her obvious discomfort, he answers, aloof, "You're real close to packland, Elle. You coming in, or getting the hell out?"

   Light little thing, still hasn't given his name; she could dislodge his minimal grip with one good tug-- but that's an answer in and of itself.