Ankyra Sound providence, just a myth if i aim to let my trigger pray

ah, there is helix's stalwart, stabilizing presence to nip blixen's impetuousness in the bud. she nods, hiding a tiny frown. "we'll be careful," she agrees, which really means, fine, i'll be careful, but she's grateful underneath it all for helix's ambigous role as mentor-cheka. on the few occasions she's let herself imagine what it'd be like to stay commander (never heda, of course, just commander) she wonders if helix would formally agree to be her cheka. sometimes, very very briefly, she allows herself to imagine that mallaidh would be her cheka -- though in those fantasies the roles usually end up reversed, with blix desiring to serve as her friend's faithful guardian. 

despite her assurance to be careful, she presses on, creeping slowly further inland. she's never been this deep in the sound -- there's something she likes about it. the scent of her foe remains stale and intermingled. "i don't think it's here anymore," she comments, her gaze drawn toward the caverns where, presumably, it made its home (not that she knows much about how bears live). glancing back toward helix, she makes a gesture toward the caverns, an eyebrow raised in question.