Gareth listened quietly as the predator woman spoke, first mentioning that she might fly behind them. Part of him thought that might be a decent solution, at least until they found their way to the Arma. Over the plains it was relatively harmless, and if she were to stumble or need to land, it would be much less hard on her hind legs than a crash landing on the mountain. He mulled that over, debating the pros and cons of allowing her to follow at a distance as she continued, asking questions about his motives and his reasons for offering his assistance. He’d already come to peace with himself that these things were often beyond the understanding of others and so he found little need to explain himself in most cases. However, as she continued to speak, the predator seemed to shrink. The fire that he had seen in her when she thought that he might kill her had almost snuffed itself. 

Before him now was an injured beast who seemed entirely unsure of her surroundings, her choices, and her own footing. Sure, he could chock that up to simply being that her legs were twisted to hell and back, but something told him there was a large psychological component to it as well. She was entirely out of her element, and she was scared, even if every fibre of her being told her not to show it to him. 

The brute tried to relax his stance even further. While they were of similar stature, he did not want to be further imposing as he stood  before her. He took a step back to allow her more space as well, in case part of her nervousness was his own reach. The stallion had given her enough room to stand, yes, but he had stayed close enough to try to help her keep her feet if her legs were to crumble again. As it looked right now, she seemed stable enough, if she could only get a moment to breathe and feel in control again. 

He decided the best thing to do would be to answer her questions. Perhaps that would help to quiet her mind enough to realize that she need not be in fight or flight mode and that he only wanted to assist her. 

“Any upset between me and Noor is just him blowing smoke,” Gareth mused, looking back to his elk companion. The bonded scowled, but did not move and spoke nothing.  “He’s concerned about being slowed down in the mountains, if he’s healed before you are. He was just being haughty- there’s other things on his mind, and while he won’t admit it, this was a good reason for him to try to give me a special tongue lashing.” The stallion chuckled as the elk rolled his eyes and started moving away. 

You’ll catch up when you catch up, I won’t be far ahead. Noor started to limp a few feet in the direction of home, wincing, but determined not to show pain while the predator was still paying attention to him. 

Gareth returned his attention to the injured woman. “As for why I worry and why I’d bother to help you, it’s just how I was raised, and my grandmother would have my hide if she knew that I left someone to die when I could have done something about it.” He shifted his weight, grunting. “Attack or no, I still hold my belief that you didn’t mean any real harm, and you will die without my help. “ 

He sighed, looking at her wings, and then her legs, back and forth for a good long moment before rolling his tongue, speaking slowly. “Well… As for you flying. I have my reservations. I don’t think it could really do much harm while we’re out in the open. But once we reach the Arma, you’ll have to stay grounded. Those cliffs are hard to fly even for the best of times and the healthiest of bodies. Both of which are not in our favour, what with the snow and your legs. At least on the ground I can help carry your weight and steady you as needed.” 

The stallion nodded, more to himself than to the woman. He tilted his head, and then chuckled. “My name is Gareth, by the way.” He shook his head, thick locks swaying against his neck. “I forgot my manners in all the kerfuffle, my apologies.” 

P a n g a e a

The mare had no idea what was going on. This entire situation was at odds with everything she thought she knew. Here she was, injured, struggling to make it, yet he wasn't taking the time to 'rid the competition.' For various reasons, there was no quick death that could have been excused for such acts in her homeworld. More than that, she couldn't understand why he was helping her. He wasn't just letting her life - he was making sure she did so. The longer she seemed trapped in this confusing circle, the smaller she seemed to shrink, waiting to see what he would do, when the foot would drop, when the fangs would emerge, when the compy in the grass would attack.

Instead, he held his ground like a trike, unwilling to back down, horns at the ready to put a 'point' to his argument. His stance relaxes further, and her eyes narrow, slitted pupils watching him closely, searching that stance for any tensed muscles, anything that would prove it was all a farce, a trick. . . she found ... nothing. He then took a step back, giving her more space, and again that skeptical look returned to her eyes, the yellow gaze searching his eyes for any falseness but only finding peace. She stood slowly, refusing to show the weakness of muscles losing strength the longer she went without a decent meal. All those weeks ago, when Aeon had found her the odd furred creature that reminded her of a protoceratops  . . . had that been the last time she had eaten properly?

He finally begins to answer some of her questions at that point, speaking of the upset about Noor being of little consequence, but she can't deny the concerns the creature appears to have about the slower pace . . . because of her. Again, it didn't make sense that he wanted to help her. It didn't make any sense! You don't let the weakest set the pace for the pack. The invalid was left behind to fend for themselves or disposed of. More often than not, they; themselves would leave rather than force the pack to make the decision. You would wake up one morning, and they would just be gone. She'd have to remember this if she did begin to slow them down . . . if it came to it, even if it would upset the male . . . if it came down to it - she would walk away from this temporary mini pack.

The elk then turned to limp away, and she briefly watched the movements in concern. A prey animal limping on its own wasn't a good idea. "He shouldn't . . ." She starts, turning towards the large man, "Take the rare advice of a predator, do not let him walk alone while he limps like that. It's a universal dinner bell." Her tone was quiet, as her eyes stare down this chocolate and cream being, "And should it come down to it, do not be foolish enough to choose my life over his. If I slow your pack down too much . . . leave me." The mare added with steel to her tone. But then, he began to explain why he was helping, that it was how he was raised, and she snorted dismissively, "You were raised to concern yourself with another? Why? Wouldn't it be less competition for food sources? Removing the weak from a population ensures the rest of the population survives." She tilts her head, the thick curls of her loose forelock shifting against the pebbled scaled hide of her muzzle and forehead, "How can survival instincts be so . . . . dead here."

Did they truly have so few predators such things no longer mattered? Still, she pauses, before her gaze finally shifts down to her hooves, pawing at the ground, small trenches of snow being carved out as if to distract her, before her voice comes out almost unwilling, a hint of discomfort, uncertainty mixed with a bit of gruffness at even having to say this, "Thank you. For, well . . . you know. Thanks." For not killing her. For helping her. For not holding her actions against her. For giving her the means to survive this winter.

His gaze turns to her wings, and she briefly unfolds them, the thin webbing that stretches from her hips to her shoulders and each finger. The webbing stretched out in full display to prove they were in working order until he stated his reservations. She cuts him off in his pause, "It doesn't hurt that much to kick off the ground and be airborne. I can handle the pain to ensure both of your comforts." Then he explains his real reservations as she hesitates, before huffing, and refolding her wings, "Fine, when we get to your stupid mountains . . . I will . . . . . . walk." She says that last word like it's a curse word, her entire face seeming to come to life to express her disgust at such an idea. The offer to help her carry her weight is startling, and she pauses before shaking her head, "There's . . . no need. I am far lighter than I actually appear, it's why you were able to take my feet off the ground when you collided with me. The uhm . . . well, the place I was at before here, would study me, they said there were . . . aspects to my bone structure . . . well, I'm just lighter than I look, to support flight. I'll be fine." Why did this have to feel so awkward.

Her gaze looks up along the plains, to the rest of these lands and to the mountain range so far away, before startling when he offered his name, "Gareth . . ." She repeats quietly, before nodding her head once, "I am Pangaea." She didn't bother with giving a nickname, knowing most tended to shorten it after a time anyway, much to her chagrin. Her wings once more unfurled, flapping a few times to test the air, before nodding to him, "Lead the way, I shall follow from a respectable distance above." She states, Her wings pump again, but this time she prepares herself. While she almost has her back limbs collapse beneath the sudden shift in weight upon those injuries, she grits her teeth, ignores it all, releases the tense muscles during a downward thrust, and is airborne before the smell of fresh blood can be picked up. Her wings flap, carrying her high enough to catch a wind current that would allow her to glide but keep her close enough for conversation as needed, through projecting vocals - assuming regular horses could do that? She assumed so, "Lead the way." Because she didn't know where she was going.



"Speech"
Thoughts
@Gareth
Notes: I'm so excited.

The winged mare showed concern for Noor as he walked away, and at this, Gareth barely hid his smile. He knew that the woman had meant no real harm, and as far as he was concerned, her words confirmed that. The elk would come around to that in time, he was sure. He might not like it much, but eventually he wouldn’t be able to argue with the truth, and the way the mare spoke just now made it clear to the brute that she really wasn’t as dangerous as she might appear to be.  


A twinge of guilt and a little shame pulled in his chest, realizing now that barreling into her at top speed had probably made matters worse for her by a large measure. He told himself that this act of civility would help balance the scales. Some would have called it heroism, but Noor just found it stupid, as evidenced by his form, waiting a distance away for the two to finish their introductions.  

The elk kept the pair in his sight, not daring to crest the next hill on his own. Though he was fairly sure there were no other predators in the area, he nonetheless could not shake the concern. Nearly getting turned into a To-Go meal would do that to a person. He waited, bright chartreuse eyes watching the two, audits swiveled to keep tabs on their surroundings. They’d have to get moving shortly if they were going to make any kind of headway off the plains before nightfall. He didn’t like the idea of sheltering in the open even on the best of days.  The elk frowned slightly and then listened in to the ongoing conversation. 

Gareth shook his head at her query. “Not dead,” he commented.  “Reprioritized,” he rolled the word on his tongue, tasting it’s meaning, and deciding it sufficient, “might be the word for it. There is enough in Novus that scarcity is rarely an issue if you interact with the denizens of the respective courts. Even travelers can find food and safe bedding in most places. Winter is probably the harshest of any season, but I haven’t personally seen anyone die from lack of basic necessities in a long time.” He paused, then chuckled a little, if not a tad darkly, “Except for maybe lack of medical care.” 

Clearly the woman came from a land where such things were either rare or nonexistent, and he was banking on the latter, given her lack of knowledge regarding what a clinic was. If he had to wager, the mare had some hellish story of true kill or be killed proportions to have these kinds of instincts. It was obvious that receiving assistance was not common, and accepting the help was uncomfortable for her at best. 

The stallion listened quietly as she spoke about her body structure. This, too, seemed an uncomfortable topic for her. He took note of it, curious, but not wanting to pry. He would take her at her word for the time being, and she had conceded to walking once they reached the mountains, which was his main concern anyways. He nodded his acceptance of this arrangement, and then smiling warmly when she gave her name in return. 

“Pangaea.” Her name tasted like rich soil on his tongue, of ancient lands and wild foliage and bloodlines that ran deep. It held strength, nobility. It suited her very well. “Well met,” the words rumbled deep in the brute’s chest. 

He watched as she launched herself skyward, though not without some effort and masked pain. He followed her figure to the open air, wanting to be sure that she seemed relatively stable before turning his gaze aside. His audits flicked in surprise as she spoke. While it sounded as if she were a distance away (and why shouldn’t it, she was airborne afterall) her words were still plenty crisp. He was unsure under what magic she had that allowed for such a thing, but he was grateful that he didn’t need to respond verbally at least. 

Gareth nodded and then looked to Noor, catching up with the elk easily and letting him set the pace for their journey. It was going to be a long trek and they would want to reserve as much strength as possible for crossing the Arma.