"Looking for... Oh," Navrose pondered what she said before it clicked what she meant, oh, that was right—unfortunately, he was alone... as much as that was a blessing beyond the tinge of hurt he felt. His position in the life he once knew had been snuffed away into nothingness the moment he woke in a world that did not care for what he was; did not even know his name. It flustered him and worsened his concentration on translating himself from his native tongue to one he knew most understood. It was pitiful, really, what he'd do next, as he spoke on the hope she'd understand him, "ты отведешь меня к своей императрице?" — will you take me to your empress?
It saddened him, some, realizing now that he was perhaps the only one to speak his tongue... that perhaps this was some damnation, deserved as it may be, he ached. Navrose shook his fur out, snorting, looking here and there. At least he was alone, no one to speak of his actions, no one to speak of him; she may have been a stranger but there was relief, solace, in Aries for she saw him as another wolf. Nothing more. In her eyes he may not good, no stranger was, but he was not cruel, not dirty, and when he looked to his forepaws they were not stained by crimson. Maybe this was purgatory but it was as much his blessing as his curse.
Holy. This was holy.
And then she drew him from his woe, curiosity. "You did not pick him... yourself?" This made him curious. "Is that how it worked in your world? You did not get selection?" He flicked his tail, painfully innocent confusion on his features, not judgmental nor teasing, honest desire to learn something so odd. "Where I come from, the women they, how do you say... uhm, choose their жених — fiance when it is arranged, I would know." Navrose laughed a little, he'd never been selected, though propositioned twice which was an honor; but he always fell... short, lacking desirable traits. "May I ask why? For the union?"
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