Dragoncrest Cliffs oh, to sleep until i am whole again,

it never takes glorious wolves like you away. oh, how eske was flattered while struggling to be humble. she'd never been terribly arrogant — only as confident as her skill allowed her to be. how do you know i'm glorious? she is just gona. just a warrior. did fighting wars and shedding blood and snuffing out lives count as being glorious? before she can spend too much time contemplating it she turns her attention back to the words that the pale sylph speaks. who told you that being a, ah, tiny icicle as you put it, means you aren't glorious? blodreina asks her with a quirk of her brow.

good, good. blodreina replies with a encouraging nod of her head as the pale woman deciphers trigedasleng and translates it into common tongue. and blodreina cannot help but absolutely be flattered as the pale woman gushes over her name. the truth wasn't half as marvelous as aure no doubt imagines it to be. it's not half as exciting or magical as you'd like it to be, i'm afraid. one of my younger sisters helped to clean me up after the war and started calling me blodreina as a joke. granted, aure's ideas of it being a bedtime story to get children to obey their tired parents sounded so much cooler.

this, blodreina thinks, is probably why re-tellings of battle make it sound far more intriguing than it actually was. the truth tended to damper one's imagination. aure, blodreina tests the pale woman's name out on her tongue once it is offered to her, letting it linger playfully in the air between them. it fits you. blodreina does not know what it means but she likes the way it sounds and somehow she's left with the feeling that it sounds good paired with the pale sylph beside her.

the last sentence catches the gona's attention and she offers a bird-like cant of her head. how does it surprise you? a partially confused and partially amused churr of laughter comes from blodreina's lips as she regards the pale woman in full, with unfettered curiosity.