It’s cold. Too cold. From the steamy jungles of Ionia to this - this frigid wasteland - it was a shock to the system, to say the least. A rift in the world, a mysterious speaker, a frozen world, torn from the land she knew and fought for - and now she was alone. A high price to pay for the power and strength she craved, of course - a bargain to destroy those who would not hesitate to carve down her home - but she had not realised the depth to which she would have to stoop.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Wincing with the cold underclaw, she hurried through the town, wind whistling through her earfeathers. Boots would have to be acquired soon, she realised, despite having wrapped herself in a plethora of blankets and cloaks. The bunkhouse was clean and welcoming, sure, but the sheer number of strangers there set her quills aching with tension. She felt too obvious, her dark plumage too stark a contrast on the gleaming ice and snow - she missed the fanciful golden blur that kept eyes and ears off her. Xayah had left as soon as she had dressed for the weather, in her own way - practically a walking ball of cloth and insulation. Truly, the tropical vastayan was out of her element in this world of frost and freeze.
“The Crystal Tavern,” she murmured, breath fogging in the air, face beginning to prickle from the cold - perhaps another place to take stock of her situation, find out just what this place was all about. The door swung open, the heavy knotted wood frosted with ice, and she sighed as the heat of the hearth washed over her. Xayah nodded a cursory greeting towards the bartender and stopped dead in her tracks, all thoughts of a warm drink forgotten.
Surrounded by swooning citizenry, probably mid-story. That cocky laugh. Those feathers. That hair. That goddamn grin. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
It hadn’t taken him long to find the tavern after he’d arrived. It was way too cold here! He’d practically danced to the warmest looking building he could see, snow under talons freezing him to the bone. He knew there were bunkhouses waiting, likely with something warmer to wear, but that would require walking in the cold even longer! So naturally, he’d taken up a seat in the warmth of The Crystal Tavern. If Xayah were here, she’d have probably talked some sense into him and told him to fetch something warmer, but she wasn’t, and that fact was something that was worrying him.
Unfortunately, he had nowhere he could look. It was freezing outside and she was just as ill-prepared for the cold as he was. And there’s no guarantee she was even here! That didn’t stop him from worrying, but it did stop him from walking around aimlessly in the snow looking for her. Instead, he gathered the attention of all in the tavern-- as he usually does-- and starts telling stories, complete with reenactments of a few of his battle dances. He cleared out enough space for him to move, and now Rakan was boasting of his and Xayah’s victories throughout Ionia.
Then he heard it. That voice, and everyone else disappeared. He was a romantic like that. The vastayan abandoned his story, ears perking up as he nearly sprinted across the tavern to the source of the voice. “You’re okay!” He exclaimed, arms wrapping around Xayah in a nearly crushing hug, stealing one of his partner’s blankets in the process and wrapping it around himself. “It’s so cold here, Xayah. So cold. Y’know, if I had known that when I agreed to this whole thing, I-- actually, how are you here, too? Did you get that weird dream?”
