Looks Like We're Not in Kansas Anymore

Orso groaned. His jaw parted. A wide yawn, as lazy and noncommittal as his splayed position upon the turf, revealed two neat rows of pearly white fangs. Well, perhaps not pearly white, but he liked to think he kept his mouth fairly clean. His mother had taught him not to gnaw at the dirt like the peasantry in some vain hope of... of...

By the divines, his head hurt.

Grinding his teeth together, he shifted where he lay, muscles rolling beneath a pelt of warm earthen tones. Thinking didn't suit him, or so his mother once commented... or... or maybe twice commented... or... or...

Begrudgingly, Orso opened one eye and peered out into the lands that surrounded him.

Nope. Nope, he still didn't recognize the place. 

A pitiful grumble, bordering on a plaintive, albeit masculine whine, slipped from his dark lips. "Divines..." His eye fell shut.

Orso wasn't sure how long he'd been laying in one place. The last thing he remembered was nursing the final drops of honeyed elderberry wine that a particularly lovely young couple had offered him and now he was... Well, he was certainly not tangled up with the pretty little redhead and her dashing blonde counterpart. As far as he was concerned, he should be in a feather-lined moss bed. He should be rising to crystalline eyes and a plea for an encore.

No.

No, instead...

His eye opened. Then his second eye. 

With a disgruntled, pouting huff, he shifted his body and collected his tangled limbs beneath him into something more presentable. This wasn't Orso's first time waking up with a foggy recollection of what happened the night prior. He expected it wouldn't be the last. Before he lost the scrap of willpower he'd been able to muster up, he lurched to his broad paws and steadied his swaying body.

Huh. Odd... Usually his head spun more after a night of guzzling elderberry goodness and sticking his nose into places it didn't quite belong. 

Though... 

Smacking his lips, he exhaled a hum and glanced around. Thirsty. His mouth was dry. No, his mouth was beyond dry. He was parched, thirsty, practically dying of dehydration. If not for the nagging, gritty texture in his mouth, he might've flopped back down. Alas, Orso exhaled a sigh and plodded forward to... to... well, only the divines knew where he was headed. All he knew was that he was looking for water.
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To hell with this... Was he to discover every sole in this damned place?

He'd been a few miles near from returning to the ruins when a rustle caught his ear and a distant figure caught his eye. They'd just woken here too, he imagined. What a pity for them. 

“If you're looking for a drink, there's a fine stream down south in the place of ruins.” Or, more-like a dirtied pond. His voice came smooth; rich, with a hint of his native accent. From the trees, he emerged, an oddly delighted gleam.

It was a lie, of course. Or, a "ruse", as he'd kindly put it. But hey, they were desperate. Shrug. If guiding this fellow down to any drinkable source, they might just stand a chance at gaining a new set of devoted hands for the prosperity of his brother's future reign.

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A call from the heavens!

A rescuer from the clouds!

Perhaps it was-

Orso's head swung towards the sound, tufts of fine furs framing his features dancing as his glittering hazel eyes landed on none other than...

Nope. Nope, didn't recognize that one at all. 

The stranger was certainly not the fiery little vixen, nor was he the well defined blonde. The ebony brute certainly wasn't packing around the finest bowl of honeyed elderberry wine either. A shame. A damn shame.

Despite his displeasure, Orso's lips curved upwards, his face smiling just as much as his mouth. "Ah, why thank you!" He turned himself, trotting easily up to the silver-tongued male. "A savior in these dark and dreary times," he lilted softly, his own voice jovial and chipper. 

Staggering to a stop just short of the stocky canine, Orso grinned. "Forgive me, for I don't quite know the customs of... of..." His grin grew, wild and eager. He hardly bothered feigning any desire to study the land. After laying in one spot for what felt like hours, he figured knew every rock, tree, twig, and leaf in the surrounding area by heart. "... well, of this place, of course." 

A twitch of his tail, and he leaned forward, tipping his muzzle ever closer. "I must admit..." Orso paused, stealing a glance from side to side as if to ensure no one would overhear. "I'm not quite sure where 'this place' is, exactly."
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