[ AW ] the prodigal son returns

There were many enduring mysteries of this world, but most baffling amongst them was Ruadhagán’s own past self. Visiting his place of birth must have seemed a quaint idea a few months ago. Now he was about to be faced with the reality of it: the slow mundane trickle of life to and from the villages, the empty spaces, the idleness. It wasn’t all bad, of course. There was still the smell of ancient magic in the air, and the wild country still beckoned him.

The water-pelted wolf was not, and would never be, a sea-farer. Not with seasickness and four certifiable land legs that now were stumbling as he disembarked the ferry. With a groan he seated himself where he was and pressed the back of his paw against his head, which spun disagreeably as though he’d tumbled down a mountain rather than spent a leisurely few hours on a boat. “Fae take me,” he muttered in his native Gaelic, squinting against the bright grey light of his perpetually overcast homeland to take in the harbour. Even aside from its dramatic lurching around his vision, he was surprised to find it was not exactly as he’d left it after all. Still a little shabby, certainly, but shabby was not a criticism he’d lob against anything anyway. Shabby was comforting. Shabby was familiar. Now he knew why he gravitated towards the dingy bars back on the mainland.

But it was busier, too, what with all its new visitors and the wealth that accompanied them.
Clearing his throat Ruadhagán hauled himself to his feet and moved slowly towards the nest of vendors. He was certain it had doubled in size now — and that was not a trick of his dizziness — and that old itch to test his skills in theft reared its head.

But first thing’s first: he needed a drink.

Harlow found she spent too much time in the stranger lands, and she was better off returning home. Since finding her sister Nylah was alive and well, alongside Kieran, Harlow felt a sense of comfort knowing that life could finally move forward after that horrific incident with their pack. She was also aware that it was something Nylah would not let go, not until they both knew who put the hit on the life they once knew. For now, she allowed it to be a trickling though in the back of her mind, but Harlow kept one eye open at night, always. As she trailed along the Harbor and further from the city, the chilled air made her immediately regret leaving the comfort of her home to begin with. She could have been cuddled up warm in her bed, but alas, there were herbs to be collected, and The Harbor was the best place to get them.

Violet eyes scanned the ground, picking a few leaves off of some trees and de-rooting plants from the ground. She collected them in her jaws until she felt she had enough and was ready to return home. The wind wafted a scent towards her, male, and not one she could say she was familiar. An odd thing considering she knew most she shared a home with, but he didn't smell of a pack either. A wanderer amongst the Hinterlands. Interesting. Harlow made it a point to close the distance between them, seating herself feet from him in case he didn't wish for company. Long day already?" She purred as she looked over his form, drinking in the different colorations of his pelt that ultimately created a fine-looking specimen. Harlow said nothing more, not offering her name or her reason for interrupting his time, she needed to get a good read on him first. Not too far off the sounds of the vendors trying to sell their most popular product filled the air, the crowds beginning to thicken as the afternoon began to roll in. The early birds already made their rounds, her being one of them, and now it was time for those who often slept in.

No sooner had he righted himself than someone had peeled away from the crowds and approached him. She smelt of the earth and had striking amethyst eyes, speaking in a language Ruadhagán understood as easily as breathing. A surprised and joyful breath of mirth left him. “Bless my coppers!” he laughed. “An angel!” He hadn't realised just how much he'd missed hearing Gaelic after being thrust into the deep end of an entirely new language; the focus and energy it took to understand and speak common was utterly exhausting. The endeavour was ultimately worth it for the new world it unlocked, but hearing his native tongue was like a hot bath after a long day, to say nothing of how beautiful its speaker was.

“Can say that again,” he responded eventually to her introductory question, relishing the natural lilt of his voice in its element. “Sure, the crossing’s twice as long as last time!” Ruadhagán cackled good-naturedly again, noticing pridefully the way she observed his figure. A grin had affixed itself to his maw now that he'd been rescued from near-death by this fair lady, though the dizziness was only slightly abating. Her company would soon fix that, though he had yet to tempt her to remain with him.

“Ya know, I'd love to learn the name of my guardian angel over a drink. Only I'm not au fait with the taverns here anymore.” Ruadhagán watched her inquiringly, hoping her local knowledge would be better than his.

She carefully studied him, she assumed by now he had one or two drinks by the scent that linger in the air, but his words were perfectly spoken and clear without the mishap of slur. To say he held his liquor well may have been an understatement, but none-the-less she was here now and made up her mind that he may just be finer company than she thought originally. "Can't say I've been called that before," She responded back at mention of her being an angel. Harlow did many things, but being a savior was far from any of them, but she would not correct him if that was the nickname he decided to give her. Not until he had it all figured out, at least. "Harlow," she stepped closer to him without an invitation since she knew it would be clear by now if he didn't desire her company. Making it by his side she would lean into him, if he allowed it, taking in the scent of his musk mixed with drink, intoxicating if she had to admit it inwardly and to herself.

"Follow close, and don't let those eyes wander," she spoke in soft demand. If he were to deem her his guardian angel she would allow it, but she would not be a fool to guide a man with lingering eyes for any other earth-walking angels. She was his for the evening, he made his bed the moment he opened the door, and she would be sure he lay in it while she tucked him in tight.

Luckily for them both the taverns were not too far off, she was sure he would have found them on his own if he looked past his hazy goggles, but Harlow did well in guiding him over the cobblestone paths and closer to the heart of the city. Despite leaving the ocean further behind the scent of salt and seaweed still hung thick in the air, while the gulls cawed not too far overhead. They knew where the best feasting was, and no matter how wrapped tight the restaurant keepers kept their garbage, the gulls always left them with more work. Harlow couldn't say she envied them. It didn't take her long to guide him to once of her favorite spots, easily overlooked by anyone who blinked too quickly. Pushing the doors open she would enter the building and nestled at a spot along the bar, far enough from prying eyes. When he took a seat she would rest her gaze on him while she made herself comfortable. "And what's the name of my most handsome company?" Her head tilted to the side at him in question, the edges of her lips curled into an attractive smirk.

She would let him order first and follow suit with her own drink soon after.