𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 | 𝟏𝟖+

ii. back to tabrien.

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‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐘𝐍 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐍 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒, freeing her from the captivity of the terran auctions. It feels strange stepping outside the wooden caravan, mostly because she was surrounded by towering oaks and the mutilated corpses of the driver, guards, and horse. All dead by the jaws of the were and the strange winged man.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Although, none of that phases Ronyn one bit. He keeps his expression serious, yet the tone of voice he uses tells her that he's anything but.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "We can get to Tabrien faster if you climb on my back," Ronyn explains. "I just need to shift."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I'm not going with you."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ And she isn't. In fact, Elowen will return back to the seclusion of her safe haven. Only now, she realises what she needs to do to ensure complete isolation. It took them her entire teenage years for the terrans to finally capture her. She plans on making it a decade more and putting this hiccup of captivity to the past.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ronyn crosses his arms across his bare chest. The midnight breeze has no effect on his naked top-half, not even a slight goosebump. "I just saved your life," he disputes.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "By asking your friend to do it for you?" Elowen rouses.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Sound a little more grateful. I can take you back to the auction if you want. Apparently, extinct wyng go for a hell of a lot, you know."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "No. You wouldn't dare."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "That's what I thought." Ronyn smirks, extending his large hand. Thick blue veins wrap around his wrist and forearm, mixed with tattoos. "Call me Ronyn."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ She doesn't shake his hand. "You're a were."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "No shit I am," he gestures to his very muscular torso. "And what the hell are you? A fucking pigeon?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Elowen clenches her jaw and huffs a sarcastic "haha", her bruised wings fluttering in annoyance. Her voice comes out in nothing but a whisper. "I've never met a were."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Because Elowen hasn't met many individuals in general. She was hardly in her teens when the terrans overthrew Reovell, and the only reason she survived the genocide was because she knew how to curl up in small crevasses, just like her mother instructed. Since then, she hasn't spoken with many commoners. There were a few at the edges of the woods that kept her secret, but the older Elowen grew, the less she could trust her alliances.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Can't say the same about your kind."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Elowen's kind. Wyng.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Judging by their earlier encounter, he knows an extinct wyng. He refers to the stranger who just rescued her, who spilled blood and killed to free her.