Wapun Meadow i can see a white blouse hanging on a windowsill, a naked body on my bed

it seemed there was more to story; caiaphas drank in blondine's tale with a traveler's lonely interest -- the road had rough, and, had quite simply bled the humanity (wolfanity?) out of the siren queen. for a moment she remembered what civility was like, and imagined to herself how the storied encounter blondine dictated had gone.

she frowned, for the easthollow wolves had been cautious too. perhaps the coast was truly the home of the wayfaring, as caiaphas had never struggled or entreated for succor on the strand. these inland wolves, she fucking hated them.

"that is helpful. thanks." a rare sign of gratitude -- and more rarely, her actual name dispensed shortly after. "caiaphas."