"Wanna play cheat now?" says the sloth,

She thought of it for some time — although she realized what had occurred and her desire of repentance, Vendrussel hasn't done anything to show so, rather, she isn't sure. By far her pride refuses to give in and bow to @Ragnar, for she truly believes all that happened was due to his greed. She would perhaps apologize for what occurred, but with a head held high and only — a prayer to the other, the one that was the true victim of it all.

Though the dragoness wasn't sure what could be done within the matter — she spoke of regret and to move on to such a way, and she realized.. She had yet to properly send one. A prayer to the ancients and to the soul of the one she so took ; her body flung to Northfall's doors to lead her back to her homeland and obviously so, she could never waltz to their land to pay respects to their grave.

In the meanwhile, Vendrussel roamed to the moors. It was one of the few places near the coast that was absolutely coated with flowers and not hard to reach. She could see the tundra in the distance, but rather then the snow approaching, she was graced with the vibrant of the alpine flowers and it's beauty. She inhaled it — before bending down, and starting to pick a few.

Carefully by their stem, to not damage them. A mouth full of the beautiful purple flowers, with paws slightly dirty from digging lightly to pinch at the furthest stem. She would leave flowers.. Somewhere.. In respects to Ynness. Maybe then, she would ask the youngs soul for forgiveness, and hope the Dragons, give her a reincarnation.

She repented — and she told of her tales to others in hope of understanding and the fruits of the wars to end. Now, all she can do is pay respects, and from there forth.. Move on. So, Vendrussel continued gathering flowers.

---

@Primrose
his guardian has permission to enter thread too!

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"HURRY UP, EIRENE!" The boy shouted, voice light with glee. The grass and flowers bent beneath his weight as he raced across the moor, paws thundering and kicking up petals into the light wind. He closed his eyes, leaning into the feeling of flying through the skies like the ravens found around Nortfall.

Until a force stopped him in his tracks. Pain bounced at his nose, and rolling back from the impact Prim brought a paw up to his face. "Ow, ow, ow" he cried.

Peeling open a single eye to what he had run into, he was rather mat with a who. A striking pelt of blue stood in his way, pale ice eyes reminding him much of the slate rivers. "Oh um, sorry ma'am.." he begun, gathering himself.

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She was gathering as she went, though majority of the flowers were of purples and so.. A few whites one within the mixture but seemed a clashing with her own colors. Though maybe it matched the other she would bring it too, as she placed the bouqet upon the flower and looked at the prize she made. To organize to make prettier to — though disrupted in thought, as the feeling of something colliding with her legs and she turned around in surprise.

Northfall.

Even moreso, a child. Lightly did her heart ache, hesitance upon her face for a moment before reaching down to his eye level, "You alright?" she was not upon her land — she would not.. Not repeat what it was. Inhaling in thoughts, like a shiver down her spine as she looked at the bright child in a caution, like she was afraid of him.

Thoughts ran through her head, and pushed to the back of her mind for an assurance he was not hurt. That she, didn't hurt him.

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Scared. She looked scared.

Primrose would turn his head, dusty brown eyes looking back to survey the land around them though there seemed to be nothing there. "Is everything alright?" He would ask, head tipping to the side before returning his gaze back up to her. "I won't hurt you, I promise!" 

"I'm Primrose from Northfall. " He would offer with a cadence only obtained from time practicing. "Who're you?"

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How many children did they have? She had met a total of three of them, but this one didn't seem of similar age and wondered quietly whether they simply continued an arrogance in reproducing despite in war. Even she, had to turn another away from Dragonford to be safe from this measly war. Whether she truly went to Elysium or not, or ventured elsewhere was still in a question ; for Vendrussel was still unaware she instead turned toward the enemies in a jealous spite.

She looked around, there was the scent of a guardian upon his trail but nothing of a flock of their kind nearby. She opened her mouth a moment, looking at Primrose who looked at her with a clarity and innocence, though as any would know — as any would tell, even he would be aware of what was around. She closed it once, before then speaking again.

"Your parents would have warned about the dangers," she said carefully, taking a step back and using her paw to guide the flowers alongside her path, "I am Vendrussel, of Dragonford." A silence and calmness despite the clear fear and worry that traced to her paws, her eyes and soul itself. None that expressed but a dominance, even with her head that was high, she only looked at him with an attempted neutrality.

Neither would she, harm him.

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so sorry for the writing change ;( Trying new things!

---

  A warning—

Hushed by the billowing gale around them. It lifted their furs, it lifted the flowers. It cradled the petals around them in its arms. But this was not enough to distract the boy. A name was given, one he did not hear yet was able to read on the other's gentile lips. A boogyman, a monster. A fabled tale told to children in hopes they didn't stray too far. But this was not a fable; no.

Weather-beaten brown eyes stared up at her, wrought with terror. He would step back, the crunching of the flowers beneath ringing in his ears. How could this woman, bathed in the summer glow and flowers around her—a pillar of beauty, be the murderous enemy of him?

@Aarkron words came to memory.  She will say and do whatever it takes to further her own goals. Peace and mercy mean nothing to her.

His childlike innocence was yet to be buried under the rubble of this war, but even he could comprehend the concept of death. This wolf had killed someone. Someone like him. His shoulders sank, his heart and mind confused. "I think I should go," he whispered.

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A strained smile upon her face — she didn't blame him. Though not even she would've attempted even before it all someone far younger ; didn't reach a yearling age where they could properly fight and grow to their feet. Though her reputation says otherwise, a slayer of young — destroy of children, and she wondered what other tales were in the midst of these cautions from Northfall. Her tail lightly brushed against the flowers, her heart saddened by the very thought of any desire in the tundra would long be gone by her over-standing reputation.

"It's alright," she coo'd lightly within her own whisper, "I was leaving." She bent down, the bundle of flowers within her maw ; the wind brushed by and the loose petals falling onto the wind itself. She took a deep breath, the smell of many around and especially the boy, peachy in form and smelled everything like the enemies she scorns so. Just not him, just not them — only the very leaders that started it all. She was tired of it, and the onslaught of battle was dull and horrid. What would be an honor and beloved within her homeland was now absconded. She wanted no more of a part of it, "be well."

So she turned around, a glancing at the sunflower boy, and slowly would she descend away from the alpine moors unless stopped otherwise. The place was beautiful, covered in the rolling hills of flowers ; but she couldn't visit often, just as they had trouble visiting the beach this place was far too close to enemy territory. She was cautious coming through — but today Vendrussel needed her offerings.

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