Dragoncrest Cliffs i could base my whole existence on the cherry-strands of your gold hair

tachyon didn't have time to be pleased with his alms, for it seemed the meagerness of its construction did the opposite of appease the waif-like woman. tachyon paused as he witnessed the hopeful contentment retract from lusca's features -- much in the harrowing manner he imagined the last light would be extinguished by darkness. slowly his hopeful grin evaporated into nothingness.

however stout tachyon's foundation, he found his rectitude crumbling in the same manner a pillar splinters when faced with an earthquake's lash. he withered, her flat tone desiccating any sense of remaining hope from his frame. the mouse fell to the ground and his ears swept back as if preparing for a strike -- tachyon quailed before the mighty wrath of the wispy wolf, rounding himself in preparation of verbal lashing.

"a mouse." he answered feebly, feeling as tiny as the crushed and still rodent at their feet.