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[trailborn]

WELCOME TO THE SALTBURNT NETWORK

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ELSA

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[powerhungry]

[ Jawsy is polite enough not the bite or mouth, though the shape of his mouth peels into a sort of smile, complemented by the continued wagging of his tail as he settles comfortably onto Elsa's lap, apparently perfectly happy to be held and doted on. As for Silco, he doesn't shift or falter under Elsa's attention. The picture he presents is one he's already crafted and curated to his satisfaction; he'll have to wait and see what she makes of it. ]

I've yet to see a lion, but a tiger, yes, [ he says, with a slight nod. ] And a coyote, a jackal. A snow leopard. A few others, mostly of smaller species.

[ His gaze falls to Jawsy, who cocks his head, looking between the two humans before turning in a circle in the bough of Elas's legs and laying down, his head on her knee. ]

None of them are capable of speech, however. Not without magical intervention.

cw past character death mention ??

[trailborn]

[elsa has a soft scrutiny. she can't see more than he gives, but his eyes – eye – tells her enough. she's seen men, but none like silco. he is someone who takes space how a shadow takes space, the sun high and beaming down on the snowy landscape behind him, though it does nothing to stave the chill in the air. the man looks like sun hasn't touched his skin like it has hers, and she thinks jawsy is the one to get him outside.]

I'd like to meet them someday.

[death brought on a comfort she's never felt in her life. when she laid in her father's arms she stopped feeling anything and only thought of the birds and the paradise awaiting her. saltburnt isn't a second chance, but it is a second life, unnatural as it is, and she'll take it. she'll enjoy what she can, keep jawsy in her lap for a few more minutes before her she gets too cold. she looks down at the pup and giggles, runs her hands through its fur affectionately.]

Why would any of them be capable of speech? They have their own language. [a beat, her gaze finds another focal point as her thoughts drift: the pointed rooftops of the house.] Magical intervention...do you want to talk to him? [unless, and she's looking back to silco.] Have you already?

[powerhungry]

[ By contrast, he looks at her and he sees the sun.

It's there, in the gold of her hair, the faint brush of copper freckles across the bridge of her nose, the clothes that don't quite sit in line with the riches the Balfours parade about, her comfort with a beast, however foreign it may be. (Her preference to meet outdoors, when he'd offered the club as an alternative.) Yes, the sun is warm. Yes, he knows better than to look at it too long, too closely. So his gaze falls to Jawsy, already dozing, apparently unconcerned with the cold. ]

I have. [ An answer to her final question — the easiest one to address, when he can't explain the science behind what makes these creatures different from those he's familiar with, nor the magic that makes speech possible. ] Val, if you've met her, can facilitate conversations between us.

[ The line of his mouth draws thin, a little thinner than usual, like he knows what he's about to say sounds a little outlandish. ]

He wanted to tell me jokes.

[trailborn]

[there's a moment's pause, a moment before she answers if she knows val (she doesn't) and if he's being serious (he is). he looks like the very thought is a foreign one even as he admits such a thing, and he seems a man to mean what he says.

she stares at silco. she stares at the puppy. she stares at silco again, brows lifting, lips breaking into a wide smile before her voice follows with a laugh. she's so shocked she has the instinct to cover her mouth with the back of her hand (as her mother had taught her) but refuses to hide herself as she had those months ago, and she distracts herself by petting jawsy instead, certain she woke him from his light snooze.]

Jokes? What kind of jokes?

[powerhungry]

[ She laughs so brightly that he has to look away — like she's a little too bright to look at directly, as sunny as the golden edges to her features. It's a small thing, smaller in light of Jawsy's reaction; he turns over a little, onto his side rather than on his belly, humming as Elsa's fingers comb through his fur. Content — clear in a way his master isn't. Clear in the way that she is. ]

A riddle. A pun. A few different sorts, all in the interest of making me laugh.

[ Jawsy, as if aware he's being spoken of, cranes his head, looking up at Silco. You laughed, in so many words. I know you did. ]

They speak on their own, where I'm from, [ he adds, backtracking. ] There's no need for magic, no need for a translator. I didn't consider what it might be like otherwise until arriving here.

[trailborn]

[miracles are real, and they take form in silco and jawsy's connection. she sees it now, in jawsy's round black eyes as he looks at his companion and silco's blue and red– red like the heat of a sunset in the middle of summer, color too bold for a simple description. this man ...where does his happiness go? he has the same looming darkness as shea had.]

You have all sorts of surprises, don't you?

[breezily said, as if to be interpreted for either the baby hyena to hear or for silco.]

After a while, you'll learn his language. [meant for silco as she curls her fingers into jawsy's fur once more, a final ruffling before she eases the pup from her lap and brings herself to her feet.] He already knows yours.

[powerhungry]

[ When Elsa moves to rise, Jawsy practically rolls out of her lap, laying prone on the ground for a moment — like he's readjusting to being unattached — before he gets to his feet as well, shaking off a little of the frost that's smudged onto his fur. He lopes in a circle around Elsa's ankles, then returns to Silco's side, though his ears remain tuned in the girl's direction. ]

I suppose so, [ is what Silco offers, as he looks down to meet the pup's gaze. (Not typically the kind of assessment he'd indulge in, but he's felt it, since rising from the grave — the sense that the creature knows him, somehow. That the fact that they rose together wasn't just coincidence. Strange, that she should be able to sense it, too.)

As he glances back up, not inclined to keep her here — to hang onto any conversation, really — if she means to go back inside: ]

I take him out every morning, if you'd like to see him again.

[trailborn]

[the ghost of her laugh has stayed firm in her smile as she watches jawsy romp around her feet. elsa lives in every moment entirely, engrosses herself in the smallest of details– not for nothing, be it whether to pick up a lizard or reach for a gun. silco is a contrast to the space she chooses to take, instead holding everything close to his chest. not stiffly, exactly, more careful control.]

I would. Sunrise?

[she doesn't ask what time, and even with the use of handy clocks, she chooses not to rely on them alone. hands get tucked into her jacket pockets, posture straightening.]

It was nice to meet you both.