While passing lyrics had hardly woven explicit permissions, had not fallen in an overt invitation to seek him out; there was still a silent want to check in on the ashen one. A notion which festered and refused to flee the mind after witnessing the foolishness displayed in the brief moments spent. The abandonment of weaponry, each haphazard stroke against meat when a blade had finally been retrieved, dining on hardly cooked flesh… the list went on he was certain. And while such acts had yet to bring about the pale man’s demise, surely an end approached if this was a path was continued on. Tongues clicked lightly at the thought. He had to know something to have survived this long but even still Leslie could not help but to question.

It wasn’t just Roach though, there was much about this realm that the crow had trouble understanding and the obvious barrier that stood between him and the beasts who dwelt here echoed in his ears with each rising phrase. In the confusion which laced the gazes of any he mustered enough will to speak to, or rather at when there came no understanding. Only the fleeting pieces his own mind was able to seize hold of when they spoke so quickly in unfamiliar tongues. This combined with unease only bid him to sink further into the woods, to dare not leave their embrace lest it was absolutely necessary. To seek out those known or in attempt to exchange what was hunted for pieces to arrows or to better mend a bow.

This medley of thoughts were not which stirred focus for long though as in a flash of scales the young draconian once at his side darted off into the foliage as if it had scented desirable prey. Sending a surge of panic to swiftly rise within the crow’s chest as attentions rapidly flickered. He wasn’t exactly prepared to deal with this, while the reptile was generally well behaved there were moments when they acted upon natural urges. If one was lucky Cricket would come trotting back with some rabbit or smaller game clutched within their jaws. Yet worry so easily seized hold, bid steps to chase after a seemingly set path with a quiet huff.

“Cricket, svaklar re wux gethrisjir? Jaka ui ti wer tairais ekess qe zhaanir stoda,” already the creeping sense of unease gripped at his throat. Terror of just what may lay beyond each section of brush or in the haunting structures which lurked so near in the furthest reaches of the tree line. Whoever or whatever dwelt within those buildings were not beasts he wished to meet for the last to take up residence in what appeared to be ruins were those of the very clan he hailed from. Hopefully the little dragon had not dared venture there. Though, if the snap of branches and disjointed foliage was anything to go off of the still growing creature moved toward the sounds of water.

Whatever lurked there better be worth all of this.

Perhaps it would be but from the start all one was met with was a new wave of dread. A figure not immediately recognized catching his gaze first before it shifted toward the glimmering refractions dancing from scales. Those decorating a beast the chirped and pranced before the woman as if expecting some sort of reward for ‘discovering’ her whereabouts. All Leslie knew in these moments was the urge to call them back, away from potential threat no matter the foolish trust they placed. “Itrewic svern tenpiswo Cricket. Jaseve wer usjalil loaw,” tongues clicked sharply as sights hovered upon the young draconian. One who chirped and bounded over as if it had not just given him reason to fret.

Though any annoyance he may have felt toward the beast rapidly faded the moment that decorated crown nuzzled against gloved palms. Pushing past the faulty barrier to brush over his chest all while a mix of touch and visual appraisal searched for injury. Only to find nothing amiss. They were alright, this time anyways. And yet that faint sense of relief allowed the crow’s focus to shift upon the faint familiarity of the dock sitter once more. One far from the reaches he’d first seen her at and this time held a rather noticeable absence for the very creature who’d initially pulled him to interact was gone. As was the monstrous form of the canine who once terrified - though concern lingered more toward the hydra.

For now though, he refrained from asking of them and instead focused on her, “Svabol re wux tirir shio wer idol ekik tenpiswo? Tir wux ti waph persvek wer sjach taoul mrith wer wihsirmir okraz grovisv?” The concept of a dock as foreign as these lands though such were lyrics he knew better than to hope would be understood. Metallic nails pressing lightly to leather as he fidgeted, grasped for words she might know, “Why here? You live in, in… grovisvi?” Obvious pause filled the spaces unable to remember what Roach had called places like this in that strange tongue so a word would change entirely despite how wrong it may be, “In plant? No city?”

There was an emptiness that crept at the edges of her cerebrum in recent days. Though it wasn't a vacuous void that simply swallowed and ceased existence. It was more like an ache, a knowing that some things were missing. How big were Vutris ad the triplets now? Were they still well? Still yet, what of Sari? She had received a missive, one writ within the script of her homeland, an occasion that she had long given up the ideals of. Those had also been devoured by the precipice where familiarity crumbled like brittle earthen crust. Soil parched, infertile and left abandoned in its pitifulness. A precarious spiderweb of splintered glass waiting for the last bit of pressure to make it fully collapse into ruin. She felt as if she stood upon its brink, and the longer she looked into that abyss, the more it beckoned her not to wait - to jump.

Perhaps she'd have listened to that siren call had it not been for the parchment she clutched so tightly within her hands as if its presence alone was enough to stave off the madness of grief. The want for something. Blood like adhesive to patch the fragile porcelain. It reminded her that she was the daughter of wolves - that she shared in their skin. She would not be undone by snakes, those related to her or otherwise. She unfolded the message once more, reading it like a treaty of peace with herself. Her lady in waiting had been ever faithful, and it was just another reason to dig her heels in to the narrowing ledge. To know what had become of her, to offer any attempt to repay her kindness and loyalty. She had been deserving of so much more than the Beleverons could have ever given her, but there was the creeping, lurching, lurking knowing in the back of her mind that Avarice's stalwart warning in the beginning had been correct. She had yet to be seen. She had yet to make any contact with any. Desperate fingers clutched the paper again. She wouldn't have just abandoned her.

Still, a plan of attack was difficult when the Lord of the Manor had an unknown number of men at his command with their fire breathing steel. Her finger tips brushed over the scarring upon her chest, recalling the incinerating burn that had ravaged through her with the bullet that had struck her. The way the dirt and leaves had had little sway over the wound's incessant bleeding and pull of vitality. If it hadn't been for Avarice, death was certain to have found her. The black mist of the reaper no longer accompanied her through the twisting tree lines now, however. If he thought it was enough to deter her indefinitely, though, he could not be further from the truth. If she could not rend him directly, she would find a way to do so. She owed that to Sari. To herself. To her family that had been sold death to fill his bloodied pockets. If he thought them savages, she would show him savage.

Her train of thought was wholly derailed, however, as a sudden burst of movement snared her attention at the darkness of the underbrush. She still had little more than a primitive bow she'd made for herself to hunt game, her arrows sparse in number, so instead, she prepared to shift. She could feel the ripple over her skin, the spark of primeval energy that announced the change, but her curled, snarling lip would soften as a familiar - albeit much larger than last she had seen - dragon made its way from the foliage. Her hackles lowered, her posture relaxing as it leapt towards her with a chirp of greeting.

"You've grown..." she murmured, allowing her hand to outstretch towards the noble creature. The passage of light beams trespassing through the sparse canopy glancing off the facets of his scales in dazzling display. He seemed almost proud of his discovery and she couldn't help but chuckle as she heard further foot steps racing towards them, along with disgruntled, muffled vocals. “Itrewic svern tenpiswo Cricket. Jaseve wer usjalil loaw,” so as not to bid the companion to remain tempted by her presence, she would lower her hand, dusting the clinging moss from her legs as she ascended to her feet.  Despite that sentiment, however, she would offer the little dragon a rabbit leg, whispering softly to him with a gentle simper, "Good job finding me, Cricket."

Recognition seemed to register beyond the covering, eyes she couldn't quite meet due to the obstruction of hair and construct as her guest spoke. “Svabol re wux tirir shio wer idol ekik tenpiswo? Tir wux ti waph persvek wer sjach taoul mrith wer wihsirmir okraz grovisv?” Her brow furrowed faintly in contemplation. She had learned several words and phrases of the draconian tongue through her time with Drogo, Dracul, and Draco. It allowed her to pick apart some of what the masked figure inquired. Clarion of bringing up where she lived at least, something of a city, water, and wood - the majority of the later making little meaning to her. Though she was certain the difference between their last meeting and this one was drastic. Her fine gown replaced largely by hides to provide ample covering and some resistance to the encroaching chill. Deer, rabbit, squirrel and others that she hunted cloaked her modestly, a strong contrast to lace and frills. “Why here? You live in, in… grovisvi?” She would nod in affirmation to the inquiry. “In plant? No city?” She would hesitate slightly, once again finding her tongue tripping over itself as she mustered the attempt to speak in a dialect that would offer him some comfort of understanding should she not butcher the pronunciations too badly. "Axun, p-persvek grovisvi." Another bob of her head as she lightly scratched her cheek, a nervous inclination as she tried to recall and piece together her next phrase. "Wer taoul jahus ... ui ti d'nag ekess ve... anymore..." The buildings too cold despite their hearths, the people even more so. Her gentle beam became faintly apologetic as her eyes fixed back to him once again. "Sorry, I'm not very good yet." She offered, but she gestured towards her fire and her skinned kills - a few rabbits and a squirrel. "Join me?"

Silver talons squeezed tightly against the sheathed hilt of a blade as sights fixed upon the presence of a woman known, so different than before and yet it would do little to lower the crow’s guard. One ever watchful of what all transpired between she and the overly excitable draconian who chirped so innocently despite the ways a snout shoved everywhere it didn’t belong. Nudging hides in search of pockets or even a satchel to root around in for some manner of reward. Something the nosy beast did not deserve for such pushiness… a sentiment the other didn’t seem to share as Cricket greedily snapped something within their jaws.

Surely some manner of snack from the way a maw smacked and that tongue ran over fangs, all while prancing back over to where Leslie stood with a head held high. Reptilian features utterly beaming before a skull inclined toward the pelt laden woman with a gleeful trill to show off what they had ‘discovered’ within the woods. A woman familiar yet so unknown all at once, a striking difference in her presentation of self the longer one looked to her. For not only where the companions once beheld at her side missing but so too were the glimmer of faint jewels, the silken attire that one spied upon those with coin to burn - beasts unwilling to barter or trade if they would not come out on top of a deal made.

It was… curious to say the least and yet it was not something he intended to question when matters of far more importance weighed upon the mind. Like what she was doing out here so far from a presumed home and just where the hydra had gone, a canine he cared little over the location of for the further away it stood from him the better. Surely she had not cast them aside as easily as fanciful draping of cloth, right? Lips parted beneath the coverings of leather, only for breath and curiosities alike to stutter from the moment she spoke.

Crown tilting, cocking to the side in semblance of the mask her wore as curls cast sidelong against his visage. The dialect lacing her tongue all too familiar, broken and stuttering, the pronunciation all wrong in places; and yet, with it came a fleeting moment of understanding. Of a clarity that had been denied within this realm of beasts. If that avian veil did not shield malformation from the world she would have gleaned the faintest hint of a smile trailing against his lips. One that would not hold for long as it faded just as swiftly as it’d appear. Despite the nature of those who’d once addressed him with such a tongue - it was still nice to hear lyrics falling in a way that left little room for misinterpretation.

No matter how he may wish to, the crow would not interject, he knew better than to ever try interrupting someone. Those lessons had been learned. Do not speak, do not attempt to hold the gaze of your betters it is a challenge that deserves reprimand. Pervading notions bid his eyes to swiftly drop, to look anywhere but at her despite the gentleness of her tone and the apology upon her lips. Earning a murmured breath muddled by the confines of a mask, tone only rising when he was certain her own had finished, “Tir ti qe bivai.” It had been an attempt, it had granted some fleeting semblance of belonging, of not being a complete outcast in a world so foreign.

Faintly attentions would drift toward the crackling flame and small prey she gestured to. Discomfort arising anew upon her invitation as he fidgeted in place, stilling only when Cricket nuzzled against his ribs with a softened trill. Contact bringing him to wince though one would never push the glimmering youth away as instead digits relaxed, drifted away from the promise of a blade to run over the chittering dragon’s scales. A slow breath slipping free as lyrics rose just as meekly, “Wer taoul jahus nurti cirau ekess tlush mrith, throden re filki nautkyn ekess coita cruelty.” Sentiment that would never be changed within the eyes of a crow. Too many held lashing tongues, phrases as quick to fly as their promises of payback.

Threats which only earned them the brandishing of a blade. Such weaponry so readily kept at his fingertips and yet the woman before him was not a creature he’d draw it against. Not yet. No wrong had come from her hands. Still uncertainty is clear in the careful steps taken toward her, careful to still keep more than an arms length from her as suspicion laced the refractions of a multi-hued stare. “Tira wer jaesk,” hesitant still as lyrics started only to cut himself off, a tongue morphing into one she knew even if it were just as disjointed as her own attempts at his, “Did jaesk give words? Put in… put in fothisev?” A hand rose briefly to gesture toward snowy curls and what they covered.

Worry gnawed at her. A constant companion of fear, disgust that loomed like an ill begotten shadow over her crown. Concern for her companions, for the sightings yet to come of her faithful lady in waiting. Avarice's grim warning playing within her crebrum repeatedly. Had her betrayal and the Beleveron's greed cost dear Sari her life? Had her selfish whim truly placed her in one of those coffins paraded through the streets? If only she'd maintined whatever shreds of dignity she could. If only she hadn't listened to the soft, tender vocality of her heart. Surely such an arrangement for her hand was worthy of at least one life, perhaps saving two. Then again, she had always warred against such a thing.

The gods knew her father had certainly tried. Though his dealings were not those of greed, and she was not sold for his monetary gain. He truly believed he grasped her best interests within his hands, a promise that she would be taken care of in the events that - eventually - did come to pass. She had never been happy with such choices, however, suitors not of her chosing, her ire of having here promised vow overe looked and cast aside. He would not hear of it. He would not recognize such a bond as reality when it was spoken from an outsider. When the gift he gave her to symbolize it shackled her to a human form. When it cut her talons and trimmed her teeth. He would not have his daughter's wings clipped, he would not see her domesticated as a lap dog.

O' how disappointed in her he must be now.

Maybe that's what had ultimately won the dragon's attention, as her hydra often times sought her out when she suffered the turmoils of inner debate. They soothed her with their presence, just the same as Vutris. She could barely leash the lines of saline from dripping from her lashes as she watched the little beast, giddy with their discovery, beyond pleased with their treat. The smile that touched her lips was genuine, though it would have tasted bitter upon her tongue. A yearning for that same familiarity, for the bonds she so sorely did miss in current time. The upheaval of constantly worring that they were mistreated or perhaps even dispatched to be buried out back among the roses. Surely if her draconian was found, they would be dealt a swift death out of fear, but she held onto a brittle line of hope. Though it was faint with distance and she couldn't seem to get quite closee enough to call out to them, the ties to her mentality were yet to be severed, leading her to believe that they were at least still alive.

At his lamentation of the city's cruelty, her expression would soften sadly, and as he drew closer, she would settle in some offer of comfort further for him. Her stare had not missed the way his touch had sloly withdrawn from the hilt of his balde, and she could only do so much to disarm herself as well. Just as he, she would not be quick to make a fool out of herself with trust yet again. "They never were to me either." And how loathsomely troublesome it had been to forget that. How cruel of fate to allow her to learn the lesson twice. The words were but a muffled whisper as she stoked the flames under the kill, sending soft wafts of cinders to dance between them.

At his akance of how she had learned the tongue he commonly spoke, she would nod. "They taught me many things." She offered, placing her hands behind herself and reclining slightly within the embers' warmth. Perhaps for the heart of winter, she would return to Avarice's home, as she was still too unaccustomed to the bitter cold of these lands. Even this clime was nearly too much for her to willingly endure. "Dracul especially wanted me to learn..." She would heave a long, shaken sigh. "I miss them terribly."