a bit of downtime

Done all his duties for this day, Bran walked west. He was in no particular hurry nor had any intention of entering the Floral Meadows this evening. He just did it for the sake of boredom. With no work to tie him down, the man was restless. His fur prickled against the steady downpour, attempting to make it thicker than the slickness the rain provided. 

While not overly fond of rain, he believed it was welcomed after the humid summer. Not long in this world and Bran could tell it was needed. Desperately. The end of summer had been too hot; he was looking forward to colder weather. Even though foliage broke down slowly, swallowed by the chill - the rain helped steady its life for a bit longer.

Ahead of him was another being, walking toward the meadows too. He chuffed a greeting to them.

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He had grown rather accustomed to the life of an adventurer. Avid, spontaneous hunts with his brother and sister, and getting to behold sights that were far from the comforts of canopy trees that constricted Elkshires' views. Each region he'd travelled to held their own beauty, and the open grasslands here were another form of natural opulence. 

The scattered showers wouldn't deter the youth from carrying out his diurnal missions. Allowing the wet spheres to patter at his coat and inevitably glide off the top, wetting it but never perforating the cosy layer beneath. He shook himself for what seemed the hundredth time that afternoon and now evening. And a chuff caught his attention.

Eyeing the dark male, he too boasted palatable brown shades and russets. Eyes of a similar shade to his own citrine gaze. 

'Good sir, I take it you aren't bothered by a drop of rain?', the dampness blurring his senses at the distance he stood, unbeknownst to him at this infant stage of greeting that they belonged to the same pack his sister hailed from.

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His eyes drifted back to the young man. Unaware but having a nagging suspicion he was related to Edith, Godbrand shrugged casually. The same pack, perhaps, at best. "I cannot control the weather" he rumbled "so I do not let it control me." While irked at it, he really did not have the gods' powers. Bitching and moaning contributed nothing. He could laze about in his den too, but that accomplished nothing.

"Godbrand" he introduced himself, slowing to a stop "of Greenwood" His ears angled back to where the Rocky Outcrops were. He needed to start introducing himself as a member of a community "Bran is fine, though." He really didn't care what others called him. Could even be 'hey you'. Perhaps this lad worshipped the, ah, High Elk too? But he did not assume, nor wish to. He kept the religion out of greetings until proven otherwise.

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The duke nodded agreeably, believing it too and going by such words. Though summer was his favourite time of year, more could be done and he was far more productive on those days of wet to aid in cooling those unbearably heated days.

They were quick to amiably introduce themselves, and the obliging prince bowed his head, 'Warwick Deorwine, prince of Elkshire. Would you know of my sister, @Vermillion?', uncertain if they were one to bond well with other pack members, or were they a guard that took to their duty in isolation?

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He would dip his head formally, holding it for a few seconds before rising.

"I do," Bran replied, taking the young man's rank and placing it to the side before focusing on Vermillion. Edith had asked after the girl too, and he could only proclaim she was fine. He didn't have many dealings with her, outside of talking and assisting "I assume you wish to visit her?" He asked, though not impolitely. General inquisitiveness, and a bit of protection toward Greenwood's youth.

He had met now two of many royalties of Elkshire.

"She is well" he added quietly "if that is a concern, however" Which he assumed it was too. His own brothers and one sister had been... lost to time. The land's destruction, his mother's sense of failing them... He had weighed it before. He had always hoped things were different in the end, that he'd find them in another world. No luck "if you are on your way to the border, I could accompany you — if you've no problem."

Though what if he took offense? The offer stood, as Bran was doing nothing in particular. Warwick seemed to be a polite and well of a mannered young man. Bran would not be averse to learning more about the High Elk, either.

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Whilst the prince was on course with his brother to reach Greenwood, he would not wish to meet their sister with him being present. 'My brother and I are currently on our way to visit her, I wouldn't want to leave him behind, but directions I would be most grateful for. I am glad to hear she is still well. Our family miss her and this will be the first time we have seen her in her new home. Has she found her place?', a question more suited for their queen perhaps. 

Vermillion never felt at home in Elkshire and whilst the brother tried his best to guide her, she felt a pull elsewhere and he only prayed to their High Elk she was in a happier situation.

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He gave a nod. 

"Then you wish to head directly across the river near the border of the Meadow" Bran focused on direction first. He angled his body to look behind them "the river is thin there, and you can cross easily. Though it requires a bit of swimming if the water has swollen — it would obviously with the rain." But Bran had crossed no problem.

But then came the personal question. He glanced back. "I would not know this" he responded "I had just arrived weeks prior; it would be very unfair to Vermillion to talk assumptions" Also known as... he didn't know her very well yet "yet she appears content to me, and healthy. That is all I could say." He shrugged lightly. He first spied her chasing feathers.

Then lounging on some rocks. Bran could only assume she was fine, but as to her place... Not sure.

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They were ever obliging, accommodating his need for directions. He had never found water to be troublesome, though currents and flow of rivers unknown to him could provide a more tackling task. No sooner was he to cross the other side, later on, he to be rewarded with an unsuspecting sister surprising him. 

Whilst Bran twisted his frame, it gave Warwick the favourable circumstance to rake his eyes over and study the approving hues of his religion that the male donned. The melding browns, of various grades, were the ensemble that was a prime example of the High Elks most approved and praised. It was so rare to find someone outside of Elkshire (never mind within) to be so blessed. Warwick held his tongue though, he knew not everyone saw eye-to-eye with their faith and whilst he endeavoured to spread the word on his church, he would not aim to make the male uncomfortable about his appearance. 

'You must have a rank of a scout or such, you seem to know this area with great detail. I pray your Queen or leader commend you for such observation of your neighbouring territories', the duke recognised when praise or compliment was due and he would not hold back from such, instilling an amicable impression of himself unto them, - he always hoped to anyway. 

Warwick was appreciative of such honesty and comments, believing there would be at least one person that Vermillion chose to spend her time with, but Bran was not one of them. 'Thank you', a breathy sigh in a sense of relief expelled from his ajar maw, 'Truthfully, she felt adrift back home, and I am rather wishful to be arriving and finding a happier version of my dear sister'.

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"Your praise is kind," Bran responded after a brief silence "though I am still finding an appropriate rank in Greenwood; to no fault of my leader. I wish to be placed in a permanent occupation, so I am scouting in a sense what I can best be good at" Soldier. Scout. Hunter. All sounded acceptable, but not universal "hence, I train. The Plains do not house many packs, so I make it my business to learn of anyone in the vicinity staying too long. That goes for any abnormality in this biome as well."

His tone was not flat, but humble. Honest. Upfront. He may seem as if a cold shoulder always but he rarely lied. Vermillion felt 'adrift' in Elkshire, but Bran would come to be adrift in Greenwood. The irony was that they almost traded packs. He gave a nod of confirmation he heard Warwick's assessment of his sister, before moving on. "I should hunt before returning, and I would not want to keep you from your diplomacy and visit" He rose from his leisurely spot, dipping his head "safe travels. It was pleasant to speak with you, Warwick."

Hopefully, Vermillion appreciated her brother coming all the way to see her. He knew if his sister was still around... Well, he would have liked to see the once-girl one last time. Alas, that would never happen. With a flick of his tail as he turned, he began to head deeper into the Plains.

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Whilst they had no desire to point the finger in the direction of his misplacement, Warwick had the belief it would be the leader's directive to instil some form of encouragement or stability with a role best suited for one of their own. The duke was yet to experience such a responsibility but he had faith his mother was equipped with the knowledge to easily situate all those in the best-suited roles back in Elkshire. 

Bran was doing a fine job, although had no real fixed position. Unbeknownst to both at this time, he was to find perhaps a better placement in the coming weeks in the place he named home. The duke nodded, listening to their reasons and current life strategy. It was not his appointment to say much else, other than what he had already voiced, in the form of solid, honest compliments. 

Before he could say anything further, Bran was seeking to depart, to continue his day's work. And Warwick had only respect for this. Dipping his crown in thanks and bidding them a pleasant day. 'Thank you for your time and help today. It was a pleasure to meet you, Bran'. And with that, the two would separate and go forth to continue what they each had planned for that day.

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