empty offerings

Isla

"You might find business picks up," Isla remarks. "Sure, there's more water between places, but I've never seen so many wagons on the roads. More than before the war, I think. And given that some unicorns can heal, and others can cover distance in a lot less time..." She shrugs. It wouldn't surprise her to see more seeking them out.

Nodding her agreement as they crest the hill, Isla hunches her shoulders a bit against a gale that whips across them. "And even if you have spirit, some still like to keep you on your toes. That was my experience, anyway."

Watching the mare and the colt canter away, Isla is left with a peculiar sense of loss that has nothing to do with the herd of unicorns and everything to do with a man with seaglass green eyes that she'll likely never see again. "You're lucky to have each other," she assures Morgen, glancing sidelong at him and smirking at his apparent faux pas.

"When you said it was a lonely life, I didn't think you meant that lonely," she teases.

I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it
When you hit me, hit me hard

Don't you draw the queen of diamonds, boy

"Time will tell." And in Morgen's experience, it always did. Loudly, in most cases.

The wind nearly takes his hat, but it's with quick reflexes and years of defending his head-wear against the wind that he manages to keep it on. Even with this interruption, the look Morgen gives Isla is deeply thoughtful and though he does look at her, it isn't so much the combination of her features that he sees, but something about her, instead. "Sounds like you have the right of it." He agrees before turning his attention back to the descent ahead of them.

"Acchhk." Morgen's face twists into one of comical embarrassment as he scrubs one gloved palm up the side of his face. "I ain't gotten say nothin'. My boots are too big as it is to shove 'em any farther down my throat." Shaking his head, Morgen leads them down towards camp. A few times he half glances over his shoulder to make sure Isla's footing was okay, even offering out his hand a few times though she didn't really seem to need it.

Lower down the air was a good deal cooler, and though the chilly winds buffeted higher up in the Mourn, here at least things were fairly still. "Camps' over there." If Isla follows where Morgen's gaze has moved, she'll see what almost looks like a log cabin. There's no real roof to speak of, though there are nearly four walls. Nearly, because the building seems to be built entirely skewed for some reason, instead of square. That and there's no door. Nearby is a chair made out of fallen timber and a campfire where rabbit stew is indeed simmering over a pile of embers.

Isla

Time absolutely would tell, and given how longlived Isla is likely to be, she'll be around to see it as well. She notices Morgen's eyes on her, and something about his gaze makes the predator in her want to stare right back, to rake across his soul from the inside out to get the measure of him. But of course she doesn't; there isn't much of a predator left in her, to be frank. There isn't much of anything left in her.

Luckily, his embarrassment serves to break the ice (whatever is forming, anyway), and Isla hides a laugh behind her hand and heads down the embankment after him. It's true that her footing is sure, reminiscent of someone used to clambering over rough ground, and such was true even before Caido. And so, as they come to the camp - and it must be, because there is a campfire - Isla is left wondering what Morgen does when it rains. Or snows. Or is even slightly windy.

"It's nice," is what she says instead, glancing at their surroundings. "So this is you?"

I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it
When you hit me, hit me hard

Don't you draw the queen of diamonds, boy

"Mmhmmm." Morgen agrees, and if he was meant to be at all embarrassed about his incredibly humble setup, he'd apparently missed the memo.

At the sound of Isla's voice, a few members of the herd flicked their ears. Then a few raised their heads, until there were nearly 60 eyes upon her. The more dominant members were the first to move their direction, followed by a few youngsters who were both too stupid and too bold for their own good. With horn types of all sizes, hooves that were cloven and common, and tails both leonine and horse-like, they drew near. Glancing over his shoulder at Isla, given her comments earlier, the cowboy was tempted to simply let things unfold as they wanted to. He well might have were it not for the sudden and abrasive mental snort that rained phantom snot down the back of his neck.

Sweets was having none of Morgen's fuck around and find out attitude, and though she was still fully saddled, she bullied her way to the front of the herd to position herself between them and Isla. Swishing her nail, she flared her nostrils at this woman who was now in their camp, before taking an exploratory sniff.

Isla

Not having expected an interrogation by unicorn - because she hadn't actually expected anything, truthfully - Isla raises her eyebrows to see the herd tromping toward them at varying speeds. And honestly, she'd have been well on board with fuck around and find out; what's the worst they could do to her, kill her? More fool them for thinking she cared about her life.

Still, as Sweets decides to turn and give her the down-low, Isla is happy enough to let her. "Don't you worry," she murmurs, remaining still and offering out an open palm for the unicorn to investigate, "I'm just passing through here. I won't be bothering you or yours."

I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it
When you hit me, hit me hard

Don't you draw the queen of diamonds, boy

Stretching out her neck as far as it would go so that she wouldn't have to take a step closer, the unicorn snorfles her nose against Isla's palm. Whether it was the metal in the ascended's fingertips or something else, the mare suddenly pinned her ears for a moment and squealed loudly, before aggressively perking her ears forward and sniffing yet again.

With remarkable softness for a man of his height and build, Morgen moves silently enough that had Isla lacked enhanced senses, she'd probably not have heard him at all. As it was she probably did, but his stealth wasn't for her sake. Immediately after she'd feel his hand nudging hers--the one not currently being pressed against Sweets' muzzle--and should her fingers open, she'd find a number of pieces of candied peppermint bark pressed into her palm.

Isla

Isla does hear him - it is only that which allows her to keep her eyes on Sweets - and her fingers open readily for whatever he's about to place into her palm. Peppermint bark, as it happens, and the Remedy manages a smile that Morgen won't see. "Truce?" she offers the unicorn, bringing her free hand forward with slow and gentle movements, exchanging one for the other.

"I used to quite like this myself," she tells Sweets, and everything about her seems to soften, almost. "I only have enough for you, though - unless your bonded happens to have enough for the entire herd." And she does glance over her shoulder at that to smirk at Morgen. Who knows - maybe he does?

I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it
When you hit me, hit me hard

Don't you draw the queen of diamonds, boy

Sweets' ears flicker back and forth as she considers. Clever creature though she might be, peppermint bark is certainly her downfall, and whatever her thoughts about Isla's metallic-smelling fingers is secondary to being bribed. Taking the offering quite politely, it's with a swish of her tail and a long snort that she communicates to the rest of the herd that things are fine. This is of course when some of the youngsters push forward, keen on being bribed as well.

Grumbling almost the way a father might, Morgen rolls his eyes slightly and takes a step back away from her, moving toward his stew while Isla is casually mobbed by the rest of the herd. 'Y'sure I can't get you anythin' ?' He calls as he raises the lid with a gloved hand and gives the mixture a sniff.

"Dependin' on how far you're plannin' on goin', I have some preserves you can take, or water if nothin' else." To say Isla was travelling light was an understatement.

Isla

Surprisingly happy to be mobbed, Isla parts with the remainder of the peppermint bark to the youngsters that bolster and nudge at her, and once it's gone - well, she's equally as happy simply to be in their company. Eventually she's turned about such that she can see Morgen again, smiling across to him and shaking her head (before realising that he can't see, given where his attention is).

"I'm quite alright," she assures him, stroking a palm across a soft nose before extracting herself from the herd to approach their handler - for lack of a better word. "I have been travelling for over a year - you'd be surprised what you can learn to live on." Nothing, for instance.

"Besides, the company has been worth more than any food or water. From one lonely person to another, I feel like you can understand that."

I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it
When you hit me, hit me hard

Don't you draw the queen of diamonds, boy

Convinced there's more to be had, Isla will find any semblance of personal space she thought she had woefully and completely violated by insistent noses and bright eyes. She'll have to watch herself that she isn't inadvertently stabbed by flailing horns.

Reaching for a bowl as he waits for her answer, Morgen shrugs and nods, leaving the only other bowl where it is. Clearly, he isn't one who entertains often. "Thought we were just alone, not lonely." He counters with a wry smile, before letting it fade away gradually. Chewing something over in his mind as he ladles himself out a portion of stew, Morgen sets his bowl down on the bench (it's large enough for two, but hell, they just met), and instead disappears into his 'cabin' for a moment. Returning with a blanket that he shakes out before depositing it carelessly on the ground, Morgen grabs his bowl and nods toward the empty bench.

"Just over a year, huh." He repeats thoughtfully, sinking down onto the blanket. The ground is hard, but so was just about everything else in his life. "So, right about after the war?" The inflection at the end of his voice invites Isla to elaborate, though the casual way he begins to slurp at his dinner suggests he won't fight her on it if she chooses not to.

Isla

"Mm, I did say that," Isla agrees, offering a polite nod and taking a seat at the bench, despite it making no difference or not whether she stands. Morgen should be the one worrying about comfort, but as she watches him putter about to get his dinner together, it's clear that she's hardly imposing on him here. "But it doesn't sound as good; from one person who is alone to another." And never mind if they are actually lonely or not.

Humming her agreement, Isla smooths out her coat and gazes down at her fingertips, wondering if they still smell like peppermint bark and trying to remember the exact scent to no avail. "Almost exactly at the end of the war," she confirms with a gentle nod. "I came down from the Draig Cordillera to the Hollowed Grounds, where I used to live. From there I came here, to visit someone in the Refuge. And from there I went into the Wilds. I dropped by Torchline once or twice, in the cooler seasons. But that's about it."

I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it
When you hit me, hit me hard

Don't you draw the queen of diamonds, boy

"Wouldn't have pegged you for the sort who went for what sounded perdy over what was true." Morgen comments as he blows on a mouthful of stew, his eyes only briefly flickering up at Isla before returning to his bowl.

As she explains there's just the barest flicker of recognition on his face as he nods along in the appropriate places. "I can douse them coals if you like. Or we can swap places." Is all he says in response to who and what Isla must be given this particular timeline. At least now he won't take her rejection of his food personally if he did at all.

Leaning back on one hand with his bowl in his lap and his legs crossed at the ankles, Morgen looks properly at Isla for a moment. Not the way a man might look at women, but just as someone really looking. 'I'm sorry 'bout what happened to your people.' He says, sounding softly uncomfortable if only because of how vastly unhelpful his words were. "Ain't no one deserves to be told that they're wrong, much less start a war over'it."

Isla

"I'm not sure what sort I am any more, to be frank," Isla says with a soft chuckle. "Or maybe I'm just lying because I am lonely." She shrugs, because it hardly matters either way. There's lonely because of a lack of company, and lonely because you are the last of your kind. Either way, it's all starting to wax a bit lyrical to the medic.

She shakes her head softly at the offer about the coals, trusting the breeze (and its current trajectory) to keep the majority of the heat away from her. "I didn't come here to impose on you," she says, "and a fire can be hard to start again once it's out." Besides, the cold won't kill her, but the same can't be said of Morgen.

As for her people, the weight of even thinking about it is enough to clog the words in her throat, and so she merely shakes her head. There are too many skeletons in that particular closet, and all of them are people she once knew. "It's done," she murmurs eventually, swiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. "No use dwelling on it now."

I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it
When you hit me, hit me hard

Don't you draw the queen of diamonds, boy

Instead of offering Isla the expected awww, pretty girl like you'll do just fine, Morgen instead laughs. It's short-lived, though the amusement lingers in the blue of his eyes and the crimson on his cheeks. "Lots of reasons to lie, but hide'n the truth from yourself is probably the best one." He offers with a shrug to match the Remedy's.

No knight in shining armour is Morgen, and so instead of arguing with Isla about it or saying she wasn't an imposition, the man merely nodded. He didn't know the ascended well enough to assume anything at this point, and by the same token, he owed it to her to take her at her word.

Tugging off a glove with his teeth once again, Morgen uses the back of (an only relatively clean) finger, to pry a chunk of something from his stew out from between his teeth. 'All that said, if anyone asks about seein' the former Overseer 'round here, should I be forgettin' this ever happened, or...?"