Dragoncrest Cliffs i am a rich pie filled with knowledge, i will not be eaten

When she is alone, she doesn’t have to worry about talking or how she holds herself or what kind of expression is on her face. In the heat of the moment, she noticed she’s surprisingly good under pressure, like it suppresses the overwhelming anxiety that otherwise lives inside her. But, when she is alone, the anxiousness doesn’t have any barriers and she can let it slide away for a while, sorting through things quietly and just enjoy the weird feeling of sand between her toes.
 
She is tired, still, despite how much more she sleeps, and the strange texture of tiny beads feels funny—perhaps more than it should—and she focuses on the squishing feeling when she gets close to the water and how it changes when she’s further out, where the water never touches unless it falls from the sky.
 
After a while, though, she jerks when she hears someone call. The wound of the waves in the distance masked the wet footsteps her direction and she turns to see it’s Blixen. Furi is able to ease some of the tension but she smiles, flicks her tail, and shrugs her shoulder. “Not really,” she says, bored, and kicks at the dry sand near her sand-caked paws.