ruan;

[Nayl]

She spun the stars on her fingernails ”Ruan,” that was his name, right? She remembers Reagan greeting her at the forested edge of Taiga, but not him. The king never did join them, but that didn’t mean Nayl was oblivious of his name, of who he was. It’s more his scent than the physical recognition of him that lured her from the crawling shadows of the canopy. Dapple light flickers across her painted coat, playing with the contrasting white and black as she looms closer like a brewing storm. Her eyes, lit by embers, fan across him in curiosity, drinking in the sight of the Taigan King for the very first time. ”Nayl,” she offers in an almost afterthought. Many seem to have her name already on their tongues, scoring their minds as she imprints this new Beqanna. This, so far, has been hers for the taking. Certainly, she isn’t cruel, but she does crave power. She provides protection for their respect and their submission. Is that really so bad? Unaware that Djinni has spoken to him and wanting to finally meet this wooded king, Nayl presses closer. The size of her stomach has shrunken, but slightly, since giving birth to her daughter. Darling Isobell, however, is nestled at home for now with her father and brother. Almost half-expecting her daughter to disobey and venture here after her, Nayl offhandedly glances behind her only to see an endless tunnel of trees. She looks back to Ruan, her head just barely tilted to the side. ”You look like you’ve seen happier days. Perhaps some bitter memories?” She wonders if they weaken him, rip him apart day after day. Is hit past nipping at his heels like a pack of wolves? Her warmth breath reaches for his skin, only to fall short as she holds back from edging closer. Nayl covet and myrina's creation

I had typed up a reply to your post below, but then regean beat me to it, sooo here you go lmao

[Ruan]

”Ruan.”

His name on the voice of a stranger had him turning to settle piercing blue eyes on those of fire. Like Aranea’s, but bolder, louder. Except these were not looking at him. Not his face, anyway. They walked over his body, instead; the charcoal black of his legs, purple spots pulled tight over lean muscle, welted and angry scars at his shoulders, a strong neck that darkened to yet more black, and then, briefly, his eyes.

”Nayl,” she offered. Then there they go again, those eyes, wandering away to somewhere behind her. His own glance that way yielded the same results hers had: not a damn thing.

”You look like you've seen happier days. Perhaps some bitter memories?” she said, turning back to him once more. He didn't read genuine care in her voice or expression. It felt more like a taunt, or a prodding, as though testing him, but for what intent, he couldn't discern. She knew him; his name, probably his home and placement there. Asking Do I know you was pointless and a waste of breath, when he already knew the answer. He didn't know her. Why did anyone ever ask that question anyway, when they could just answer it themselves?

”Plenty of both, “ he replied evenly, his voice as deep and dark as the forest of his home.

He searched those eyes of fire, wondering who she was and how she knew him. Maybe it shouldn’t have surprised him that people would know of… whatever he was. A ghost of the Taiga, perhaps. Hidden away, and kept to himself and his people. Typically, Jinju or Heda wandered to the field on occasion, and very rarely, him as well. He was particular about whom might be well-suited for their family unit, and often didn’t show himself unless he’d found one that may have potential, so he wasn’t exactly a public figure. His recent efforts there had been mistakes, crossing the greedy and power-hungry that were only interested in climbing the ranks of a system intent on naming equals as superior to each other. Maybe she was one of those, too.

His eyes slid down her face to her muzzle as he watched her enter the chill around him, her breath reaching. Frost almost glittered on the velvet of her nose and he wondered if the cold bothered her, when her scent smelled so much of sun and sweat and sea. His world was so different with its damp and darkness and clear, fresh air, dapples of sunlight and beds of needles cushioned underfoot. Her breath fogged as his did, clouding so close to his skin. Nobody but his daughters had been this close to him in well over a year, and his pulse kicked unsteadily, though he stood calmly stoic.

His gaze lifted to her eyes again, peering through her fire to find her intent. She was a mask, though. A wall of secrets. A ghost of a smile flickered in the corner of his mouth, then gone again as he silently expanded his Winter to swallow the rest of her, embracing her in this chill that followed him, haunted him. Liked the cold, did she?

”You know me. Can’t say the same for you," he drawled low. "Care to enlighten?”

[Nayl]

She spun the stars on her fingernails She notices how her whiskers seem suddenly heavier. They’re cold. Then it’s her breath as it coils from her nostrils in a single plume before she breathes again. In… Out… In… Out… The sudden briskness is startling, but she stares at him, her mind reeling. A Winter King, perhaps? Much to her dismay, she has no counteract or rebuttal. Fire doesn’t pour through her veins and melt the miniscule icicles clutching to her whiskers. She doesn’t breathe heat that rips through the chill of his cold. All she can do is stand enveloped in this personal winter as it sinks its knives deep into her flesh and into her bones. ”A man of the cold,” is all she can bring herself to say at first, but then she is finally able to retaliate upon a whim. The soil around him vibrates and rolls to life. A large clod of it rises on its own accord and hovers briefly before pelting Ruan’s cheek. A humored grin stretches across Nayl’s lips – the first amiable expression she has shown him – and an airy chuckle follows in close pursuit. ”I can do more if you keep me trapped in your mini winter,” She still can’t help but revel in having her powers back, in being entirely whole again. But then she is sobered by his concluding question. Her gaze flickers away thoughtfully, measuring and wondering how her name could possibly go unheard and unknown by this point in time. Her mind is shielded by an abysmal wall and she hardly has to try anymore to mirror that on her face. Stoic at first, then somewhat judgmental, as her head inclines back toward Ruan. ”I take it you and your Queen don’t have great communication,” her tone is icy much like the air between them now, her earlier jokes quickly pushed aside, ”or perhaps there are other reasons you would avoid a political meeting and not familiarize yourself with the other lands.” There is a barb in her voice as she remembers that day, although it had been fairly brief. ”I visited your forest years ago and spoke with Reagan. I’m Nayl, Queen of Nerine.” Her eyes narrow, but they are hidden beneath her unruly forelock, scrutinizing him now that their metaphorical ice between them has been melted by the heat in her voice. Nayl covet and myrina's creation

[Ruan]

Recognition carefully lightened her face as she realized the cold was his, surrounded him. Surrounded her, too, now. "A man of the cold," she observed, staring at him. He could almost see her thinking, puzzling out the tangles of her mind. Her first time coming across a cryokinetic, maybe. An ice magician. He wasn't surprised, he supposed. He was the only one of his kind that he knew of thus far. His daughter's magic seemed more commonplace, and he wondered if this woman was yet another body warmed by supernatural heat.

Turned out, she wasn't.

She didn't smell of it, feel of it this close to him. The lack of burning retaliation was another confirmation, but the way the earth rumbled around him when she pelted his cheek with the soil solidified his assumptions.

His brows barely tightened, not quite a frown as he considered her without flinching. The wild in him understood her rebuke, captured that smile spreading her lips and committed it to memory. Were those as rare for her as they were for him? His mouth quirked in answer to her amusement though, feeling her chuckle flutter in his dark ears and melt the cold of his veins. "I can do more if you keep me trapped in your mini winter," she warned, or merely stated facts, but it was still amiable.

His eyes slowly trailed down her face, back to the part of her that was the closest to him at the tip of her velveteen nose. In a voice so low, unable to be heard were she not so near, his breath mingled with hers, "Then don't stand so close." There was a hidden smile in it, a quiet amusement as he let go of his magic, softly laughing eyes returning to hers. It snapped silently back in place around him. Though it slid away from the majority of her lean figure, it still covered most of her head, most likely, but it couldn't be helped. One day it would be contained within him again, but that day hadn't yet come to pass.

And he wasn't backing away from her.

Whatever mirth she'd had came to an end and she was solemn again, her gaze flitting momentarily away as she thought. When she spoke this time, her voice was hard again. "I take it you and your Queen don't have great communication."

His lips pressed to a thin line and his eyes cooled, but he let the comment pass. They didn't have any communication. There was no queen. There was no king. There was only him. But he didn't correct her.

"...or perhaps there are other reasons you would avoid a political meeting and not familiarize yourself with the other lands. I visited your forest years ago and spoke with Reagan. I'm Nayl, Queen of Nerine."

He heard the sharp barb in her words, but didn't feel it. All he felt was the raw, ravaging scrape of that name as it burned him from the inside, reminded again of the pain he'd come here to temporarily escape from. He didn't have to explain himself to her or anyone, and didn't care what she thought of him. He was who he was, and the rest of the world could either accept it or leave him the hell alone.

"Well met, Nayl, Queen of Nerine," he offered formally, though simply. She already knew him, so of course he didn't introduce himself. As for the rest of her speech, he gave a noncommittal shrug.

"She has been, and will always be, the better diplomat. I've never been well-versed in the tricks and wordplay of politics, and prefer to seek more honest company."

There was no judgement in it, only a statement of preferences. Diplomacy was not a skill he claimed. Unfortunately, honest company no longer included his wife, but he didn't mention it. He was a private man, and confided in no one. Blunt and direct, he strayed away from the meandering way diplomats seemed to speak, bouncing badminton phrases off each other. He was not one for shuttlecock small talk. Neither was he rude, though. Not intentionally, anyway.

"You're welcome to join me for another visit if you like. Things are very different from the last time you were in the Taiga." He didn't need to know how long ago her visit had been exactly. If she thought Reagan was still around, it had been long enough. But he didn't expound on that either.

"You can come now, if you're not busy," he suggested, bright, blue eyes firmly in the fire of hers. "We can talk on the way. Tell me about yourself and your Nerine? I need to get back to my child," he gave in explanation, hoping she would take him up on the offer. He was genuinely curious, had intended to familiarize himself with the other lands. He hadn't meant to cut their time short, though, but he'd been away longer than he'd meant to be and Jinju was probably waiting to be relieved of her new sister.

[Nayl]

She spun the stars on her fingernails ”I couldn’t resist,” she jests with a lazy blink of her eyes as she watches him melt away a majority of the chill. Heat sinks back into her bones and into her muscles. The tension that coiled in her body eases as the heat of summer presses back into her flesh. ”You would have loved the Tundra if it still existed,” she says, more thinking aloud than anything. She just barely recalls the bitter winds and freezing snow. It contrasted so heavily with the warm humidity of the Jungle. Her coat has been sleek year-round then and she had been leaner due to the daily obstacles she traipsed to explore her home. Nayl had been different then. She was a child of the Jungle, but with no voice. Her presence was fleeting, inconsistent. That’s why they didn’t trust her in this new world. They wanted the panther to be their Queen, but her reign lasted as long as the seasons. Nayl finally found her place. For the first time in her life, a great majority of Beqanna knows her name and knows her feats. She carries her pride which is perhaps why she is wounded at Ruan not knowing even a name. He knows nothing of her, not even from where she lives. Her stomach churns and her blood heats. An offence, she muses, but then she takes pause with a heavy breath. He knows her now, at least, as she hears him taste her name for the first time. A shudder runs down the length of her spine – is it because she enjoys how it rolls off his tongue or because her whiskers and muzzle are still kissed with a layer of frost? A white plume coils from her nostrils, winding until it hits the warm air above them and dissipates. Nayl inches away then, albeit briefly, and rubs her nose against her leg. The moisture trickles down, immediately melting beneath the radiant smile of the sun. For a long while, she savors the stillness of her own voice to hear the low baritone of his. He offers her a visit – immediately, even – and she struggles to turn away the opportunity. ”Sure,” she replies with a casual roll of her shoulders, subduing the formalities of strangers. ”Be careful with the honest company you want,” her fiery eyes twinkle with mischief, ”because some may be more honest than you want. Like me, I suppose,” a quiet chuckle flutters from her mouth like the whispers of butterfly wings. ”Let’s see this new and improved Taiga,” she adds as she turns toward the distant forest. Her eyes look at Ruan then find their destination in the haze of the distance. ”I have questions that I want to ask at some point. Nothing bad,” and with a tilt of her head, Nayl begins the journey to his home. Nayl covet and myrina's creation