Can you hear the call? The welcoming.

Not a cloud clung to the bitter atmosphere, and although the sun loomed overhead, casting its rays upon the wraith’s smooth skin, no warmth accompanied it nor heated the surrounding air. Instead, biting winds licked at her heels with the promise of colder days, sending chills along her spine that pricked the sensitive facial and body curves;  adorning her spinal column and commanded her shoulder blades to roll in their sockets to fight them off.  A coy smirk asserted itself upon her lovely countenance as the faint memories of her rendezvous with her ideal sire flooded her diseased mind, dominating all worries of food and shelter until her plan was at her full focus.

the crisp crackle of the fallen leaves that had been stripped from the now-barren trees was all that could be heard as the petite fae swiftly writhed her way through the labyrinth of dense vegetation, trying her best to avoid collision with any of the tightly-knit obstacles blockading her path. A heavy fog cloaked the borders as the night was beginning to come knocking, not only supplying the scene with an eerie and mysterious mood, but it accompanied Accalia with guidance. The silent girl had been walking for hours, searching for something worth her while; Her long legs would come to a halt, placing themselves just outside of the packs reach, her eyes tinted a soft indigo- wondering if anyone would approach the lost woman.

The lands - both caked with crystals and measured to a pristine background amongst all to what the eye could behold. Beyond their reach of power lie the city lights and all that shined most bright in the night to what fell upon them so early this time of year. It was a joyous time, but only unfortunate feelings and memories seeped into the minds of his throughout time. The harsh seasons such as this were not his most favorite, but it was the fact of like, of what is just another year to survive and search for the next meal. Air blew in strong gusts of wind as it flew on past and around the figure to what swaggered anonymously through the lands he only had seen less covered. Their scent was strong, yet coated ever corner, bump, hill, creak and seep to what it could reach and devour in its mighty mouth. Fog coated the grounds, but the silhouetted man figure was easily seen in through the mists as he emerged closer to the barrier and dividing line between pack and outlands. Here loners would sit and wait patiently for one to come find them, - lost helplessly to find their way into a pack's power; to feel wanted just as he had so long ago.

Blue hues that resembled the ocean waves analyzed closely to the territories, his instincts prying open from his counterpart to find the scent that held so foreign and close by. As he neared closer, the feminine form of a beautiful maiden coursed with radiance and ink upon her pristine skin, he looked over her and slowly grinned. The guardian payed no attention to the rest of her body as he was a man of peace and not that same person he used to be. With greatness did he not realize that she was lost, and alone. Bowing his head in a kind gesture to her presence, he held his stance higher above the vagabond for the rank he withheld and reached out his hand to gently take hers and plant but of a simple kiss to the back of her palm, "Salutations, m'lady." He said, his voice drained with the natural given British drawl he possessed charmingly, "I am Guardian Alexander, a great wereling amongst these lands you see and smell before you. What is it to that brings you here on such late of a night?" His tone was kept plane, but caressed with a none-threatening voice so that the woman would not fear him in any way. Perhaps she wished to join, and if that may be the case, her wish would be granted.

The woman would remain still in her upright position; her twin optics skimming the relentless amounts of land in the hopes of seeing another meandering across the silent borders. Accalia was not one to share any details about the hellish conditions she festered in while she was a young girl all those years ago. Her mother could give Satan a run for his money, and her father was too dense to see beyond his exterior of famous muscles and far too dumb to notice anything astray from his pristine, noble family. They both left a sour taste on Accalia's palate.The overpowering musk of a male traveled on the wind and imbedded itself in the loners sensory palate. She scrunched her nose, attempting to place the scent with a name, but alas, she knew not of this stranger.

Peridot eyes ignited with a fleeting fire as she locked gazes with the charming man, his bow and manner of speaking catching the maiden  by surprise, its not every day you meet someone who greets another with a kiss on the back of the palm; that was though- common all those years ago. Which alas raises a question, how old was he? His name would not fall upon blind ears; the one word sending shivers down her skeletal spine. " Alexander..." The name would roll of her sweet tounge, leaving a strange feel to it. Oh, how she despised the man who had her lovers blood stained on his hands. Guilty.

A smile would pull against her rosy lips, wishing to leave her memories in the past and focus on the present. Her gaze would brighten and Accalia would pretend to pull up the hems of a skirt and take a feminine bow. " You remind me of the days 100 years ago." A chuckle would fall perfectly in place, but alas she needed to get her explanation across. " Im Accalia Arlandas, im here to seek acceptance to reside in this pack" The explanation was plain, yet it got the point across just as well. " I can offer the services of fighting, i also know a little of healing."

Her hair ran in marvelous long locks to hug her cute, angular face, fitted kindly into a small body to what he believed granted her an underestimating appearance. Alexander could not help himself to realize that perhaps this female was much stronger, older even as he found her scent lurking plain as day - soaked and tatted into her skin like any one else's. He enjoyed the way she spoke of his name, that bittersweet sound that rolled off her sharp tongue to what made a grin shine brightly on his face. The maiden gave the Guardian the memory of the little dolls that his home would place in their windows during this time. They were small, much like the fae, and delicately resembled as something innocent, but the male knew better than to judge a book by its radiant cover.

"You may call me Alex, that will suffice nicely, Ms. Arlandas. I gained my manners at a young age and know how to court a lady in waiting whether she be lonesome or with a man elsewhere." Holding his build strongly, Alexander lifted his chin, seemingly towering over the female that peered up at him with one of the most beautiful pairs of hues. He eyed them for a short second, which painfully reminded himself of his mate that was now on vacation to see her family so far away. He missed her terribly, the knot in his stomach tightening, but not a sight to see for his features to move or give away his loneliness, "You speak of fighting, meaning you have gained your sorts of training long before and still keep them to survive. If what you say is true to your word, I will grant you with the rank of the Warrior and nothing higher. Your skills are indeed needed here, and we are more than welcome to add another to our strong ranks." He held out a kind hand to her and motioned his other hand into the direction of camp - the lights of the houses shining bright along the sea shore and the scent of Venantium members awaiting for her greeting, "We are very trustworthy individuals. You see, if I can trust you and swear your life to this pack and everyone including myself, you will have my trust and this pack will be your home, Accalia."

Faerie tales have a rather whimsical and unrealistic charm to them; they are like well-loved dolls, broken and bent from petty play, with princes who fall in love at first sight and pale princesses who stay locked away in towers for ages in waiting, waiting for their true love to ride a noble steed and save them from fiery and unfair demise. But they were always twisted in favour of the innocents, for the script cared little of how the knobby, gnarled tree-giant felt, or if the warted witch ever felt the warmth of love.
Accalia was the witch, and she did not have to hide it, she warmly embraced all the slippery and nasty things that made holes in her head. That was her, all those years ago. But she was a princess all the same - feminine, outrageously womanly in all of her doings, elegant, dainty and fine-grained like a porcelain china-doll all dressed in sunset-red and gold kimonos.

Alex, would be a more sufficent name- eager to plead on the ears. Her sparkling hues would trail up to his bemused face once more, her smile never dispersing of her rosy lips. A few moments would pass by and the guardian would speak in his lavishing british accent once again. Its been a while since Accalia had been assigned to a title, and it felt pleasing to hold one again, even if it may only be small. " I stay true to my word, ive travelled all over the world, each place has there own unique techniques. Japan, Britain... Ireland. You never know when you might need it the most." Once being granted into their home, Accalia would accept his offering hand and gaze at the home, Stepping forth her sight would readjust " This place is beautiful." Trust, was a thing that wasnt granted easily, and in the area of the topic- Accalia was a little rusty. It would seem as though the warrior had been locked away from the outside world, never experiencing the look of the sea shore, or the smell of the whole expanse.