Who: @juliangladiator Where: Eterna, along Tiber Bay When: Several days after the Mystery Box trauma extravaganza Notes: No dialogue starter from our stubborn girl--let me know if you need me to add any to get it going, I definitely can.
Sunlight glimmered off the choppy surface of the Tiber Bay. The sound of the body of water lapping against the manmade seawall Juneau sat near was calming. Quietly, she considered how soft and organic of a sound it was, her mind forcing her to compare it with the contrasting sound of the echoing rockslides and the grating sound of dripping stalactites in the mountain cave within which she had passed a month. Even if she was brought back from the game without a scratch and no longer ragged and emaciated by hunger, what had been experienced had set into her marrow. No better or worse a setting than where she had first met Julian, Juneau appreciated the warmth of the sunlight streaming down upon her even as it colored the high points of her nose and cheeks a soft, burning pink. Juneau despised the bustle of the city, the heavily populated streets, and the snide looks of Lysaran nobility–but the natural spaces like the bay and surrounding mountains were forming themselves into something of a haven to her.
Despite all of this, Juneau had strongly considered simply not showing up, even if she approved of the venue Julian had selected. It would have been easy, and likely inconsequential, to stand him up. She possessed the knowledge of Julian’s name, and hers was unknown to him. Compounding upon this, Juneau had not disclosed details about where she was lodged, that she was one of the Iskaran refugees, nor had she looked quite herself across the way at the Queenset Isles. When she first crossed the suspected wolf’s path, she had worn regalia for the occasion of Neptunalia which was only a step away from a disguise compared to her usual manner of dress. If the vuldak didn’t want Julian to find her, she was fairly certain he wouldn’t. But as it were, she had shown up. It wasn’t impossible that he walk right past her today, and should he, she had already resolved that she would not stop or correct him.
In Juneau’s hands was one half of a smooth, dark stone. It was sun-warmed as she sat with it, the clear-sky heat of the dog days of summer able to do so. The weight of it in her hand grounded her and kept her from leaving like a very small anchor. What she had brought with her was one of the smooth, black stones she had pocketed from Julian’s pile of skipping stones–she still wasn’t sure if he hadn’t noticed or he simply hadn’t protested. She had saved them to crack open over the last few days–they were a tool she used to help get through the night in Alder’s room at the inn, too embarrassed to admit to him that she returned to him afraid of the dark. When the darkness loomed too large, she would begin to count. Each time she managed to count to a new record high, she would award herself with one of the stones. She had been so certain that they each held a fossil, but only one did.
Juneau had hidden one-half in her rucksack with a few other prized treasures, and she had brought one-half to return to Julian. It was a nautiloid fossil, and when she had managed to chip away all the shale that had encased it, she judged it to be a finer specimen than she might ever hope to find. Juneau hadn’t been keen on sharing it, but she was curious about the blades Etienne had mentioned that had the capability of slicing agates, and when she tracked one down to avoid having to spend too much time with herself alone, she had the fossil bisected. Julian had been the one to collect the rock, and it likely would have been within his right to demand she give the whole thing back–but he hadn’t known what he had to begin with, so offering him even half felt like a gamble.
The vuldak sensed him coming before he was especially near. Silently, she wondered if he could track her the way she could sense direwolves and certain werewolves, the way she could measure her proximity to Alder. The way her cells had not buzzed in anxious anticipation of Ivar’s approach or movement for some time now. It was an assumption that Juneau could feel Alder’s presence because they were both vuldaks–but she didn’t know if she was interpreted as a wolf by other wolves now that she had been forced into a more abyssal form. Juneau pretended not to notice it, her jaw set and her perceptive, deep green eyes set on the jagged, cerulean surface of the water. She ceded the responsibility of a greeting to Julian, equal parts happy to leave sociability to anyone else who would assume such responsibility and as a small experiment to see if the blonde boy with sea salt eyes would demonstrate any tells that might answer such a question.
