The Sentinels we were made of lightning

the sylph was not alone for long. soon company sprung from the brush -- first lasher, fluid and unmarked. caiaphas' critical gaze raked over him - he seemed unscathed, though certainly something troubled him. she breathed a sigh of relief to witness he had not been besieged by the savages, but this also perplexed her. and then she remembered as a whole, he was far more likeable than she.

along came others, likely the druid's accolytes. her gaze sprung from lasher to dante, who remained silent. blue willow followed and caiaphas gave her the briefest of dips of her head in familiarity, and shortly after a pale female emerged from the cover. she marveled that none of them spoke -- perhaps the dire situation called for a certain semblance of silence.

"well?" she breathed, her torn ears anxiously cupped forwards.