Sleeping Dragon been half goddess, half hell

The two go back and forth about the situation, taking about Thuringwethil as if she weren't there between them. She tries to follow the flow of conversation but she only gets frustrated. A low growl slips from her muzzle and she jerks her body forward like she might stand but she can't get proper footing. Not having lifted herself very high from the ground, she accepts defeat rather quickly if only because she feels safe enough in her territory.

"Stop talking about me like I'm not right here," she warns, flustered and frustrated, and she tucks one of her paws between her chest and the ground. She doesn't need Gyda to help keep her awake, she is more than capable.

The earlier attempt at standing didn't do her shoulder any favors, the mixture Lucani applied cracking from the movement. It tugs at her fur and the dizziness quickly settles back in her head. Wavering back and forth between the tiredness pulling the fringes of her mind and the burst of energy that she doesn't need anything at all turns her stomach. Thuringwethil's mouth waters and she smacks her lips a couple of times as drool pools from the side of her mouth. For a moment she forgets about the frustration, taking in a strained breath to keep her stomach settled for as long as possible.