There was nothing else for him there. Stumbling out onto the balcony, the cool, refreshing night air washed over him. Massive wings spread in greeting, the membraneous sails translucent in the bright moonlight. Veins crisscrossed them, but did the blood really course?

"Cain, come back to bed." A pitiful attempt at stalling him followed like a puppy. With a toss of his head, he threw his thick, dusty-plum hair to the side and peered at the dapple grey lounging across the bed. Her lashes fluttered as she stretched beneath the sheets. "The night is still ours." She added, her voice barely above a whisper but sickly sweet. Cain smirked.

"You're right," he began, cloven hooves clacking on the marble tiles as he turned back to her. He came beside the bed, drug his muzzle down the long bridge of her visage, before hanging over her in shadow. "The night is still yours, and it is still mine." Her brow pinched in confusion at his poison-laced sentiments. As she murmured that perplexion into the air, the blush stud had already pivoted his back to her and strolled back to the balcony once more.

She protested, called out his name, and he could even here her scramble from the bed and onto her hooves, but he did not turn around. Slipping through the curtains and back to the balcony - his wings so incredibly encompassing the phalanges brushed against them, then the door frame - Cain didn't offer a single word, nay gesture, in response. With a snap, his flight appendages unfurled, and he lept over the railing.

Night air was undoubtedly the freshest - he'd bet his manhood on it. Zephyrs hissed and whispered at the slightest adjustments made to his wings, the long talons adorning the ends greedily slicing through whatever transparent currents kept him aloft. With a great heave, Cain rose higher into the clouds, chasing the moonlight into the heavens above with a satisfied grin.

Higher, higher, higher he rose. He eyed a voluminous cloud drifting lazily near, and with little to no hesitation angled towards it. Drawing his wings closer, he streamlined himself so that he flew, like an arrow, into the suspended condensation. As the mists broke away to the opposite side he snapped his wings open again, drawing trails of cloud behind him. A dark chortle rolled from his muzzle. Oh, how he loved flight.

Curious, yet, was the thick brume below. Cain hummed quietly to himself as his dichromatic eyes peered down at the sea of fog. Lowering himself just above its veil, he let a single forehoof drop to slip into its cool, enveloping caress. Hardly a man to shy at the unusual, Cain once again drew those enormous wings to his sides and slipped, like a creature of the sea rather than a beast of the sky, into the fog.

Truly, it was thick, disorientingly thick. Perhaps others would feel the tickle of apprehension with such poor visibility, but Cain felt a surge of adrenaline. How many trees were hidden in the mists? How many predators? Ultimately, he found nothing; "How boring."

After an undetermined amount of time, the veil of mist fell behind him, and he soared over a pleasant little meadow. Rolling green pastures slipped below him with nests of trees rooted in their valleys. Lower still he drew until he was soaring so close to the grasses he could hear them shudder below. Strange... had he not just been soaring over a kissed by autumn-tide? A snort erupted from his nostrils and he asked himself, did it matter?

"SEND ME BACK!"

Obviously, it mattered to some. Cain adjusted his flight towards the bellow like a compass finding north, too curious to just leave such an exclamation uninvestigated. He soared over empty meadows until, finally, he caught the glimpse of a femme cursing towards the sky. Cain smirked. Surely, this was the mysterious damsel in distress. Without much desire to conceal his approach, he continued to soar towards her. Like a bullet, he careened closer and closer towards Severa without any obvious intention in slowing down. Just as it seemed he'd collide with the mare, Cain thrust himself over her with a sweep of his wingspan, and he grinned down at her with a simple teasing greeting, "No can do, ma'am." Having successfully crested over her, he soared some remaining yards over the twilight grasses until he was ultimately forced to set hoof back to terra firma.

With an impish grin he turned around to her, crimson eye peeking through a curtain of forelock. "My, what a temper."

"Oh, fiesty." he remarked idly to her seeing response, his wings flaring once until they curled to his sides. Several strides pulled him closer to her, nape arched and head titled, as he couldn't help himself from retorting. Like honey his vocals slipped from his lips, his left tooth snaggled and winking in the moonlight to punctuate every last phrase. "You seem a little rattled, darling, you might want to lay down." A stormy chuckle followed the slight, head shaking so that coils of dusty plum locks fell over his nape in an unkempt but handsome mess.

The woman he'd riled so was a spitting image of the twilight above. Lighter dapples and roaning speckled her curves and her pelt slipped into deep pitches along her dorsal. Obsidian hair framed her neck and tracked behind her, and silver jewelry winked like stars across her frame. Twin moons bore at him, hot and angry, with the power of suns. Yet, he still met them, unperturbed by the ire and frustrations he faced. Rather he rose his visage, a single ear forward while another hung lazily to the side. All in all, if she hadn't been so sour, perhaps she'd even be considered pretty. But, of all the flavors there were in this world, Cain found tart to be most unappealing.

"May I be so bold as to make an educated guess at your current predicament?" His vocals swept again, still honey-sweet and luxurious. He didn't wait for her answer, but rather, fell into a fast-paced response to cover as much ground as he was physically able before she inevitably struck back. "Somehow you found yourself spit up from the mists like a discarded ragdoll, lost and left alone without any sense of direction. Obviously you hold a deep grudge against someone in your life, someone whose clearing wronged you in more ways than one, perhaps even a lifetime worth - mum perhaps? Dearest dad?" He barked on a single guffaw, "Or maybe a lover who jilted you?" Finally he let the rumble of thunderous laughter roll, to tickled to continue the charade. "Trust me, darling, I've a sense of direction unparalleled, and even I don't know where I am. No one sent you here, because I just so happened to sweep in without interference." Both of his harks swung forward and his muzzle rose high so that he looked down at her, "And whose to say life doesn't throw you curveballs after all this time?" Lazily he let his head fall to the right, his body following it so that he could throw a sweeping glance across the sleepy meadows. While the physical nature of the land wasn't anything to write home about, it didn't reflect the characteristics of any known nation he'd visited. Had he really stumbled somewhere new? How delightfully fun.

This charred witch wasn't charred at all. Far from flameless coals, she had been embers, and every word that dripped from his lips petrol. There was little space left between his condescending assumption and her toxic rebuttal, and it kept the grin that wrinkled the edges of his lips locked in place. Though she was dwarfed by his height as well as the expansive masses of wings tucked close to his sides, she was no less brave enough to meet him hoof-to-hoof. As she inched closer, he caught a very telling remark. "I have not loved any of you fragile mortals." One of Cain's harks twitched forward, his dichromatic visionaries squinting almost imperceptibly. "How very interesting indeed," his inner monologue reflected and had he a beard surely his telekinetic touch would stroke it.

Closer and closer, until the very white of her eyes bore his image in them as if looking into a scrying mirror. The dusty pink pegasus offered her no victory in her invasion of personal space. Rather, he remained quite relaxed, eyes watching her down the length of his face as one brow peaked. On and on he let her insult him; insult his charm, his wit, his words. There was nothing that the savage femme hadn't reached for with her claws and torn asunder, too intoxicated by the petrol he'd poured on her simmering flames.

Whether she had tried to goad him into retorting or defending what she clearly labeled as charm, Cain had, for the first time since arriving, remained utterly and completely silent. His purple and carmine eye did all the talking he needed. It twinkled with a mischievously whimsy, thoroughly enjoying the embers sputtering from her lips and finding some sort of entertainment in her riled nature. Was she too busy belittling him to notice? Time would certainly tell...

"Oh you're done?" he quipped in response at the inflection of her query, and his smirk rose into a cheeky smile. Both his harks fell back (his inverted cross earring tossed about like a cat's toy, glinting in the moonlight) not with ire but to add more theater to his mockery. His brows rose as if inflicted by her damaging words, and try as he might, he couldn't turn his smile into a frown, so it wrestled a moment as he cooed, "I thought I was quite charmless and a shame, whatever compels you to know my name?" Like a whip his hairless leonine tail flicked as he adjusted his weight, leaning in closer to Severa's personal space. Two could play at that game.

"Maybe if you play nicer, I'll tell you."

Their banter as far too intoxicating to just relish in the sips he'd received. Like what he remembers of liquor, it burned down his throat and warmed his belly with fires of revery rather than malice, lulling him into a stupor that cried more, more, more. Many could watch the scenario unfold and the flames of ire flicker and blame the vampire. It is true he's done nothing but offer more and more accelerant to Severa's escalating frustrations, but he'd deny it was his initial intention. You see, when one has seen the world for as long as someone like Cain has been forced to experience, idle chatter just doesn't quite fulfill social requirements.

Weather was boring and inconsequential conversation, and the local scenery was just an excuse to drivel like the poet one secretly claimed to be. Baseless and tasteless, responses were all that Cain wished to illicit anymore. Was it truly his fault that hers was so malevolent? Hardly.

The nameless prick tilted his head still, the mockery of a frown he'd painted on his face curling the opposite direction as she spoke transparently about how her body responded to him. He failed to lean away as she gambled a chance at his game, and indeed slithered along his shoulder as she made her dismissive pass to, he suspected, get away from him. He parted his leathery wing in an arch for her to slip by, daring the closeness she offered as a threat - just a thread of a good time, in his eyes.

Devilish eyes followed her, humming with appreciation as her decorated figure swept past him, until he had to peer beneath the very wing she'd slipped under to make her retreat, and as she swayed with hips that promised sins, she did in fact surprise him.

Severa.

His grin grew, the snaggled fangs unhooded and glinting in the moonlight as he lazily turned around, folding his wing close again. "A pleasure, Severa." Cain purred in response, perhaps the first utterance he'd said all night that had no ulterior motive. Over his shoulder, he could see the mists shimmering and wavering, and as much as Cain wanted to pursue the fiery witch his interest was once again piqued. He'd been dismissed anyhow. With a wide, pearly grin, he called to her back, "Cain."

Eh... he'd see if she remembered.