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Roll for Jana.

Upon his return to Serenia after the ‘break’ in Aisko, Janatheil’s parents saw to it to give him multiple opportunities to exert himself and keep suitably unwound. This, in large part, meant travel. Small hunting expeditions around Serenia. Mountain trips and river rides. Multi-day hastarback tours of the open countryside in order to stretch his wings, breathe fresh air, and engage his spirited nature without boxing himself in.

This was one such occasion. After several weeks at home, going about his studies and accompanying his family to necessary social events with miraculously limited troublemaking, he was out again, this time accompanied by hired guides, to spend some time in the surrounding forests for a trapping excursion. His parents could not afford the time to travel with him on every — or even most — of such trips, but Janatheil found that he didn’t particularly mind. When his watchers were only hired help, after all, it left room for a much wider degree of freedom. He was the lord in such instances, and wasn’t the least bit hesitant to buck against their cardboard ‘instructions’ that he do this or that or stay within thus and so distance.

So it was that now, well into the first stretches of night — the sky a deep, endless black-blue overhead, broken up only by a scattering of white pinprick stars — that Janatheil, restless on his sleeping furs, slipped from his designated campsite and out. It was one of those occasions, of which there were many, that he knew rationally he ought to be giving a little more thought to exactly where he went, how far he strayed, and what might be out there to greet him. But he did not.

Part of the thrill was to not mind, and with a single mental assurance to himself that he wouldn’t go too far — whatever that entailed — he felt free to slip between the trees and begin his wandering. Everything looked different, after the sun left the sky, the forest an entirely different creature when bathed in moonlight, and it seemed a pity to waste the opportunity on sleep. Barely-aglow white-lavender nightflowers dotted the forest floor around the trunks of trees, a few climbing up their sides and winding towards the moonlight. Silvery streams of said moonlight, like a white gypsy’s veil trickled down from between the trees to spill in pools along the leafy earth, and Janatheil picked his way. Watching. Listening. Savoring.

While the day had been warm, hot even with the heat of building summer, the night brought with it a crispness that made everything feel newer and prickling with potential. At the sound of activity, however, Janatheil stilled. Movement. Stirring in the undergrowth, something of a tearing sound and then—

At a humanoid, young voice, Janatheil relaxed his posture, amusement creeping in where alertness had been and curiosity filling in the blanks. The boy — for it sounded like a boy, at least — seemed to be having a tantrum. A verbal argument with no one, as the case seemed to be when he moved within range of sight, or—

No. He was attempting to catch something.

Janatheil blinked, tilting his head and watching the full of the scene unfold before stepping out where he would not be missed, wings flicking with his good humor. “On your own, are you? Keep on like that and your face will be as pink as your hair.”

Janatheil raised his eyebrows. “Oh, pout. Don’t give me that look, c’mon. Wasn’t my fault you’re a clumsy hand with a broken net.” He stepped up, making a reaching gesture for said net without so much as a verbal warning. “And it’s nice to meet you, too. I’m Janatheil. Orehian. Pleasure is all mine, apparently…”

As he glanced in the direction the bird had taken off, Janatheil debated — briefly — taking after the thing himself to soften the boy’s sour pout, but it seemed long gone and not worth the trouble. So, he dismissed the thought, turning his focus instead first to his companion, and then his ‘trapping’ device. Scattered seeds on the ground, too, told him the kid had come at least a bit prepared, which was more one could say about most — not that he himself knew the first thing about taming, either.

“Lousy quality make if it shreds on your first try…or have you used it lots before? And doesn’t seem the best of ideas to just dive tackle the thing…probably lucky for it it didn’t break a wing, not that I’d…” Janatheil frowned, flicking his own with an internal wince, “…know…” His gaze moved again to the boy’s — or was it a girl’s? — face. Boy, he thought. It wasn’t as though long pink hair was entirely uncommon. “Are you out here on your own?”

Janatheil watched the boy’s shifting train of expressions with amused curiosity and held his tongue, waiting until it seemed he had gotten through everything he wanted to say. At that point, he chuckled, shrugging and holding the net back out for the other.

“You don’t know me yet, but if you’ve already decided I am…so it goes. Though, it would seem like ‘clumsy’ and ‘cutting up one’s own net with a tangled knife while trying to use it’ do fall in the same general definition area…but nah, I’m not alone. I’m out here with you.” He grinned. “Speaking of that, though, you are…? ‘Cause I can start guessing, if you don’t have any suggestions…”