Eira ran across the ice, glad to finally be free of that stuffy town. She had managed to escape for the day, and couldn't wait to experience life again. Because that was what the wild ice plains were to her. They were Eira's life. She loved them, and she harboured no fear for them like most people. Eira laughed, for there was a wonderful sight before her. A wolf chasing down a hare. Eira paused long enough to watch the wolf take a long leap and pounce on the hare, before dashing off to see more of the beautiful snow. 

In a way, it felt like home. The chilling cold, the icy plains strewn for miles, and most of all the feel of the place… Given his affinity for the element of ice, Frey had always felt at home in the cold. He'd even deigned remove his mask on this day, so as to better enjoy the crisp air stinging his face. As he walked, his breath escaped in puffs of smoke. He kept a vigilant eye on his surroundings, wary of the threat many native flora and fauna could pose, never mind other environmental hazards the slick landscape itself presented.

For the greater part of his venture across the tundra, he had been alone. To a great extent, that was how he preferred it, and yet…
… upon seeing a woman in the distance, he found his curiosity piqued. What manner of person might he find out here in the frigid wastelands?

He determined to find out. "Hey!" he called, waving an arm, hoping it was enough to catch her attention. "Hail, stranger! Pray tell, what brings you out in the middle of nowhere?"

Eira turned around in surprise. What sane person (obviously she wasn't sane) go out on the tundra on a day like today? Sighing, she walked towards him, dragging her feet. Had her father sent someone? Oh, she hoped not. Eira wasn't ready to go home. She had only been out for a few hours. Slowly, Eira tugged her cloak on to hide her wings. No one could no she had them, otherwise, the family would be ruined. Eira's white fluffy wings were the result of the time a mage had come to town when she was little and had accidentally done his spell wrong, causing Eira to grow a pair of wings. Sadly, they didn't actually work. Hopefully, the stranger, whoever he was, had not seen them. "Hello, good sir," Eira said formally, sure her father would punish her, if, god forbid, she showed some enthusiasm.

As soon as she noticed him, her demeanour shifted. She appeared almost reluctant, or resigned, even. A concerned furrow creased his brow, but it dissipated as Eira drew near. Whatever her reasons for her reservations, out here in the wilds, he found he could not blame her. He would have been just as wary in her shoes, no doubt.

"Hello," he returned politely, affecting a warm smile despite the cold. Keeping his skeletal arm carefully concealed in the long sleeve of his mage's robes, he gave a small wave with his other hand in welcome. "Please forgive my intrusion. I was merely curious to see someone other than myself out here on the tundra. If you don't mind my asking… are you familiar with the area at all?"

Eira visibly relaxed once she realized that he wasn't sent to bring her back. "Oh, no." Eira lied through her teeth easily, "I'm from….." Eira struggled to remember her geography lessons. "Um….Egjora, Canelux." Eira didn't want to let a stranger know where she lived, or that she was an ice elf. Who knew what he would do to her. "I'm Eira." She said, not bothering with proper etiquette. As long as he wasn't a friend of her father, she was fine.

And again something about her shifted, though he could not quite put his finger on the what nor the why. He had to resist the urge to raise a brow at her answer - Frey was always wary by default, but something about this stranger and her demeanour seemed… off. Oh well. It was probably just his imagination, anyway. "Ah, so you're a fellow traveler to these lands, then," he mused aloud. That wouldn't be very helpful with what he was looking for. Alas.

"Well, pleased to meet you, Miss Eira. The name's LeSilve." He offered a curt bow of his head by way of scant formality.

Looking around, a breath escaped skyward in a thin wisp of air. He loved the chill, relished it, truly, and glancing over at his newest acquaintance, it was easy to see she didn't seem to mind it much, either. "Does it get pretty cold over in Egjora too, then? You seem pretty well accustomed to it. Oh! And…" As he spoke, he had removed his backpack and begun to fish through it. After a moment, he fished out a bottle. "…Forgive my lack of manners. Care for some reisgwin? Someone near town told me it is customary for those who've met in the wilds here to share a sip, apparently."

"Oh, sure…" Eira said, pretending she didn't know that custom and took the bottle from him, pretending to take a sip. Handing it back to LeSilve, she pulled her cloak tighter around her, hoping he wouldn't notice the little ripple of movement underneath it. "Um…yeah? It's cold in Egjora." Eira said, not really sure if that was actually correct. Hopefully, LeSilve wouldn't catch onto her lies. Maybe he knew less about geography than her? Probably not, assuming he was an explorer of sorts.

"Huh, interesting. Maybe I'll have to make my way there at some point, then - always did enjoy the cold. If you've any recommendations to a traveler, concerning sights to see in the area, I'm all ears." He gave a gentle smile. If he suspected she was lying, he gave no impression of it. Her assumption that he was an explorer of sorts hit the mark but, even so, he could not claim to have traveled allll over… Not yet, at the least.

Retrieving his bottle upon having it handed back, he took a sip of his own and then corked it and tucked it away with a pleased nod, as though content to be adhering to local rituals. For a moment, silence pervaded between the two, and only the winds sifting across the tundras could be heard. Then, having mulled over his next course of action, Frey sighed, shrugged, and ran a gloved hand through his hair. "Say, Miss Eira, in your time out here, you haven't happened across a peculiar purple flower with red thorns, have you? Almost looks akin to a weed?"

Girshu looks up from the hill, peeking over the snow mound that covered his figure. It seemed like the little girl hadn't noticed him, that he managed to hide himself just in time to evade her detection. He didn't know whether the people around here hunted his kind, but he wasn't going to take that risk. And upon looking at the girl more calmly, he saw that he was right. An ice elf, so undoubtedly a troublesome foe. He only heard stories of their kind, but those stories usually involved their hunting parties killing his species and stringing them up to harvest his skin and bones. Sure, those stories dated back to when the frost salamanders were still savage beasts terrorising the frozen plains, but these ice elves probably didn't know things are different now. Well, kinda.

Looking at the girl, Girshu saw to his surprise that there was now a man with her. He hadn't even sensed the man until now, and probably wouldn't have until it was too late. Girshu takes a moment to appreciate the rare stroke of luck he had, for this man looked like trouble. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but this man looked dangerous. A spellcaster, no doubt, but also something more powerful or sinister. Something that made Girshu tense up instinctively.

Observing the two dangerous figures, the paranoid frost salamander remains hidden. It seems like his observations were right: The girl's posture turned docile immediately when the man called out to her. A domination or charm spell, no doubt. Like a puppet, she walked towards him. They exchanged some words that Girshu couldn't overhear, and then the dangerous man took out a bottle. The girl accepted the bottle without hesitation, taking a sip of the contents that were no doubt poisoned. Girshu knew that she was already dead, she just didn't know it yet. And he wasn't going to follow her fate.

Just as he was about to slowly crawl away, the wind turned and blew the scent of the man and the girl towards him. Girshu sniffed, immediately figuring out more about these two. The girl smelled of feathers, fresh ones, so she was no doubt hiding a chicken under her cloak. That must be why she was running away from the village, she's a chicken thief. Her threat level immediately became more mundane. The man on the other hand, he smelled just as dangerous as he felt. He smelled of calcium. Of bones. What kind of villain is he that the smell of the long dead lingered about him that strongly? What kind of trophies did he collect of his victims? Girshu shivered.

Yes, he should most definately move. Far away, hopefully to never see this man away. If his suspicions were correct, the man would head towards the village next and lay waste to it. It would be a good distraction, giving Girshu a head start.

Girshu slowly crawls backwards, and then suppresses a groan when something cuts slightly into his belly. He hadn't noticed it when he landed, but there was a purple flower with red thorns squashed underneath him. The flower was frozen solid and broken in pieces by now, Girshu's frozen blood being colder than even the cold nights of this region. The flower was worthless now, even as a herb to be powdered. Not that it mattered, this was already a worthless weed to begin with. Girshu had seen at least a dozen of these colourful plants in his journey through the Haltian mountains. Mildly scratching the softer skin between his scales was probably the greatest achievement that this weed did in its entire life.

Girshu crawls away quietly, making sure not to be noticed by either of the two dangerous and wicked people on the plains just below him.