He came and the Winter followed. It clung to his purple-peppered coat in a sheet of glittering frost, trailed his breath in lines of steam on each side of his dark face as he walked. The chill surrounded him, grasping to swallow the heat of any others in his immediate area. And so he had even more reason to keep his distance than he had before, more than simply the isolation of a broken.. king. No, not king.
God, he hated that word.
Hated, too, coming to this place. It was rare that he did, elusive and concealed in his home of dense trees and fierce, wild hearts. The forest would always be home to him, and it was from the forest that he came. His weight quietly pressed on the damp, fallen leaves of Autumn, leaving behind a light dusting of snow that almost immediately melted after his chill followed him far enough away. Gone were the days he could control it, have it sit so silently within him until he reached for the icy magic. He'd been thrust into too many changes all at once, too much turmoil and strife, and the Winter was released.
So, he was at her back, as she kept the forest at hers, and slid in place a neutral distance at her side, facing the others as she did. It was less than the wide berth her other potentials gave her, but enough that she remained just on the outskirts of the cold chill surrounding him. She wasn't fragile, wasn't going to break if someone came too close. Could take care of herself, clearly. With a glance, he noted the scars sketched across her, far outnumbering the large, welted slashes down his own sides, the stains on her face, the mark across her shoulders like the bloodied hand of some god that only added to the wary heat in her firestone eyes.
His gaze settled on the male, Orion, took in his figure thick with muscle and a warrior's grace. Some kind of protector, maybe, but oddly serene for one. He gave him a nod of acknowledgement before drifting to the other woman, Crota. The scent on her was entirely unfamiliar, and he peered at her in mild curiosity at her question, finding it strange. Or perhaps unnecessary. Why else would someone come to the Field? But these were the way of diplomats, he knew. Small talk, friendly chatter. Nothing he was well-versed in.
"Ruan," he introduced to them, glacial blue eyes sliding back to gold ones. "From the Taiga, the forest," he added before falling silent and watchful.
If she felt he was too close, he was ready. How many times had he claimed his own space in the same ways even to his own daughter? It didn't bother him, but the cold of his skin might burn. He wasn't really sure, had only touched his fire-born daughter since the magic became as feral and untamed as he was. He would stand and take it, and claim his space right back. As was the way of wolves.
God, he hated that word.
Hated, too, coming to this place. It was rare that he did, elusive and concealed in his home of dense trees and fierce, wild hearts. The forest would always be home to him, and it was from the forest that he came. His weight quietly pressed on the damp, fallen leaves of Autumn, leaving behind a light dusting of snow that almost immediately melted after his chill followed him far enough away. Gone were the days he could control it, have it sit so silently within him until he reached for the icy magic. He'd been thrust into too many changes all at once, too much turmoil and strife, and the Winter was released.
So, he was at her back, as she kept the forest at hers, and slid in place a neutral distance at her side, facing the others as she did. It was less than the wide berth her other potentials gave her, but enough that she remained just on the outskirts of the cold chill surrounding him. She wasn't fragile, wasn't going to break if someone came too close. Could take care of herself, clearly. With a glance, he noted the scars sketched across her, far outnumbering the large, welted slashes down his own sides, the stains on her face, the mark across her shoulders like the bloodied hand of some god that only added to the wary heat in her firestone eyes.
His gaze settled on the male, Orion, took in his figure thick with muscle and a warrior's grace. Some kind of protector, maybe, but oddly serene for one. He gave him a nod of acknowledgement before drifting to the other woman, Crota. The scent on her was entirely unfamiliar, and he peered at her in mild curiosity at her question, finding it strange. Or perhaps unnecessary. Why else would someone come to the Field? But these were the way of diplomats, he knew. Small talk, friendly chatter. Nothing he was well-versed in.
"Ruan," he introduced to them, glacial blue eyes sliding back to gold ones. "From the Taiga, the forest," he added before falling silent and watchful.
If she felt he was too close, he was ready. How many times had he claimed his own space in the same ways even to his own daughter? It didn't bother him, but the cold of his skin might burn. He wasn't really sure, had only touched his fire-born daughter since the magic became as feral and untamed as he was. He would stand and take it, and claim his space right back. As was the way of wolves.
