It was an understatement to say Wolfgang was relieved once they got past the majority of the slopes. Although the mountains were equally treacherous, they were also drier and cooler and the ice tended to be less dangerous once it was on stony trails through the boulders. It was risky to wander off-path, but there was less mud and grass to choke up and hide the bad spots.
He paused to catch his breath as the ground evened out, enjoying the chill mountain air. Anything other than frigid felt warm for him after spending a week and a bit in the tundra. Even this bitter mountain wind wasn't yet enough to make him shiver. "If you look up," he said after he'd caught up on air, "The big one with all the mist around it is the peak." He glanced back to Azriael, "I haven't been up there yet but if you're wanting the best view of the land it'd be from up there."
Thankfully the trek up the mountainside was hazardous enough to occupy Azriael’s mind - he didn’t need to talk to his companion to keep his mind busy. He even managed not to fall face first in front of the huge lion, slipping only once and stumbling forward quickly enough to collect himself. Wolfgang, for his part, seemed to know exactly where to place his overgrown paws.
The higher they got, the more Azriael’s pelt fluffed out, trying to capture as much warmth as it could. His ears had buried themselves in his mane some time ago and stayed there. He was ungrateful for the wind ruffling his once neat mane, revealing the true unruliness of the blond, curled locks. It would take forever to obsessively neaten them into almost flat waves. Yet again, Wolfgang seemed unconcerned - not even bothered by the ice in the air. It felt like it stuck in Azriael’s lungs, freezing him from the inside out. Wasn’t the big oaf just perfect? He caught an irritated sneer forming slowly on his muzzle and banished it at once, forcing his expression to show something more like interest, albeit a tired kind. It was annoying enough that his only company was beginning to irritate him for simply existing, it would not do to show it. His gaze followed Wolfgang’s directions, skull craning up higher and higher to the tallest peak. It wasn’t the height or the thought of more travel that bothered him, but the idea of going where it was even colder. Frigidly cold, he imagined. He’d probably lose his toes if not more important things.
“This is high enough,” he managed to bite out, casting his over an edge of the small plateau. Unable to look at Wolfgang for fear of - well, for fear - he moved toward the edge, looking out of the cliffs and onto the horizon. Solui laid out below him. He traced the river with his gaze, trying to memorise where it led, all of its curves and bends. From up here, Solui seemed even emptier than his weeks in isolation. He shivered.
Azriael looked cold, despite his thick curls and Wolfgang was amused by the reminder that such weather wasn't the most welcoming. He'd never really felt the cold as a child, and mental fortitude made that resistance even stronger. He would never feel a chill if he held strong in his beliefs. That wasn't to say the cozy caverns he'd discovered in Ifari weren't to his liking. Just because he could ignore the temperatures didn't mean he preferred to be outside in the snow if he had an option to find a warm spot to nap.
"You can see everything from these cliffs." he agreed with a chuckle, looking amused at Azriael's reluctance. "This is good weather, today. The wind isn't too strong." He cast a careful glance up the higher slope, to the mist-veiled peak. "It can be dangerous up here. One wrong gust and..." Perhaps not the most comforting thing to say to someone peering over the edge to the landscape below, "Well, you get the idea."
He lapsed into silence then, trying to think of something less morbid to discuss. Something about these razor cliffs and icy rock made him melancholy. "Where did you plan on going from here?" Now that Azriael had had a chance to see the land, Wolfgang couldn't help be curious.
It wasn’t the idea of falling that scared Azriael, that felt like icy fingers running down his spine. But Wolfgang wouldn’t know that. The idea of falling, really, was exciting. A small, impulsive smile flicked across the umber lion’s black lips. What would it feel like to fly? If only for an instant - a second - before crashing down? He’d never know, but he couldn’t deny that the urge to find out was there. “Splat,” Azriael confirmed wickedly.
Wolfgang pushed the conversation onwards and the question posed finally drew Azriael’s gaze away from below. “Not sure,” he admitted casually. “I never really had a plan after leaving just… keep going.” Until something stopped him, he supposed. Like the ground. “What about you? You said you weren’t going home, planning on sticking around?” And he was, despite his irritation, curious. Surely Wolfgang had a plan of some sort. Probably something grand. Azriael’s curiosity had nothing to do with a desire to stick around too if that was what he was planning.
Wolfgang couldn't help but huff a breath of amusement. Splat indeed. He appreciated Azriael's sense of humor - jokes like that would have never flown, where he'd come from.
It was suprising to hear such uncertainty. With his whole life having technically been laid out for him for as long as he could remember, it was unusual to suddenly be faced with the prospect. Take a pride, build it up, spread the word. He moved with purpose, always with something on his mind. "Really?" he said, sounding a touch bemused. It took him a moment to realise he had been asked a question and quickly corrected himself. "But, yes - I'm sticking around. I claimed the tundra pride." perhaps that sounded too grandiose, "It was abandoned, I believe." It had been a sign that the gods were looking out for him.
Yet despite his plans, despite his goals... he hesitated before he spoke. "If you don't have anywhere to go, you're welcome to join me in the tundra." he tried to sound casual, but he was enjoying Azriael's company and he was curious to know more about him.
“Really.” Azriael replied with a soft laugh in his throat. Why Wolfgang would be surprised, he couldn’t understand. It was a little easier to breathe now, the cold was still biting in the air, but maybe he was getting used to it. Wolfgang answered his question easily enough, but the answer wasn’t what Azriael was expecting. The big idiot had claimed a pride and somehow it hadn’t crossed his mind to mention before now. So the man was a king, emperor, whatever they called leaders in this land. And then King Wolfgang invited him to move in. Unease settled in his gut. “Uhh,” Azriael said, wisely. He knew this was what leaders did - built up their numbers, invited lost souls into their ranks. It was entirely normal. What he should do, however, is regretfully decline. The tundra wasn’t for him, really, and moving in with the innocent but handsome, probably- a-cult-member king wouldn’t end well for him one way or another. The umber lion’s bright but guarded gaze flicked over the king’s face, finally settling on those stupid brown eyes.
Azriael never learned.
“Sure, why not?” He said brightly, as if it was a casual decision - something that did not truly affect him one way or another. He sat, super casually, with a slouch in his shoulders and his tail flicking idly behind him. He watched Wolfgang carefully behind a warm, friendly smile. And then, for both good measure and a final test for the poor king, he added, “you’ll have to promise to keep me warm, though.”Surely, surely that couldn’t be taken any other way than direct flirting. He’d even add a wink, but that felt a little too much.
Wolfgang wondered if he had been too brusque in his offer. This sort of situation was different to recruiting at the outskirts. He mainly hoped it hadn't been unwelcome, because he was eager to see more of Azriael. Though to save them both the embarassment, he wasn't about to admit that. Wolfgang met Azriael's deliberating gaze with disguised impatience. Huh, he had purple eyes-
The decision broke his silence, and smile pricked the corners of his lips. "Great." he rumbled, feeling unusually pleased. This should have just been business, but the flicker of muted joy in his chest was unfamiliar. A chuckle bubbled up, unwilled, at Azriael's quip. Wolfgang was certain he hadn't been reading these signals wrong. Brown eyes glance the umber lion up and down, delivering with a smirk: "I'm sure I can arrange something."
At least his irresponsible decision pleased the king. The small smile Wolfgang returned was unfortunately nothing short of charming, almost too much so, if Azariael hadn’t been prepared for it. This was going to be torturous. But he was desperately lonely. Even a chaste, untouchable king was better than nothing.
Wolfgang chuckled at his statement, clearly thinking it a joke, and the lion offered a tight, uncomfortable smile in return and prepared to quickly shrug it off and move on - and then Wolfgang’s gaze slid across him in a way that was not innocent or very friendly and Azriael was suddenly very warm under his mane. If not for the fact he was already sitting, he would have had rather shaky limbs to deal with. There was no misreading those eyes, that tone - that smirk.
What the actual hell was going on with this man? Was he daft or was he just fucking with Azriael? The loner had played this game, or similar games, before. It would become a game of chicken - would one of them flinch, or would neither? Normally, those games were fun and Azriael thoroughly enjoyed the chase. But this was different, this was a king. Azriael, of all fools, should know better.
Maybe he was just starved for attention, a little drunk on the smirk flung his way. “I don’t doubt your ability to, your majesty,” Azriael murmured, refusing to be disarmed by the big idiot this time. He stood then, sure that his legs would hold him up, and shook out his pelt. His mane was a lost cause, damp and clingy, but no matter. He was far too warm to feel the chill in the air. He refused to break eye contact with the king, some small part of him sure that Wolfgang was going to flinch, any moment now. He quirked a brow, keeping those doubts carefully hidden under the flirty glint in his eye.
It was new, to not have to politely bow his way out of situations like this. It wasn't sinful to be truthful, nor to be so bold. But now with his new found freedom that this land had given him- not to mention power- he no longer cared about the long-distant eyes of kin watching his every move. He was untouchable by his past.
Your majesty had a nice ring to it, and Wolfgang realised he more he thought about it, the less odd the status felt. Perhaps Aren was just looking fondly upon him. He hoped he could keep that favour. "Why don't I show you the way to the tundra?" he suggested, still watching Azriael. Anything to push another hour with him, without being aggressive about it. They had only met today and although he could talk the talk, this was still unknown ground for Wolfgang.
Wolfgang doesn’t flinch, though he doesn’t exactly keep up the banter. That was fine. Azriael was fine with dancing along the edge of innuendo and straight out hitting on the lion, until something pushed, one way or another. “That sounds perfect,” he agreed amiably. Actually, he did want to see this icy wasteland he’d agreed to live in. How long would it take him to get sick of frostbite and lack of food? If Wolfgang was there, irritating and pretty as he was, the outcast could see himself sticking around for a while. He moved only to stand before Wolfgang, leaving a just barely respectable distance between them. Close enough to see the highlights of Wolfgang’s eyes. “Lead the way, king.” He breathed, gaze dancing across the king's face, before slipping backwards to allow Wolfgang to lead.
Now it was just a matter of recalling the fastest way home. He'd come from this side of the mountains several times at this point, but there was certainly better paths for weather like this. It wouldn't be the best impression if they ended up slipping on a dangerous edge or being blustered down a crevice by the wind. Indicating the right direction as he mapped out the smartest route in his head, he took the lead and began to pick his way back down the slope.
