Dragoncrest Cliffs if the world says its time to go, tell me would you freak out

with the captive gone and drageda's collective injuries knitting shut, a blanket of calm, so tense it's suffocating, seems to have descended -- or maybe that's just blixen, wound into a tight ball of energy. not anxiety -- not really, not like mallaidh at least -- but she feels like a taut string about to snap. what happens when she snaps? that's unclear. despite her insistence on being grown, blixen is still, at her core, a hot-headed jock with a pechance for starting shit.

only there's no shit to start. oh sure she could march to rusalka's borders and literally start some shit, except she doesn't have a deathwish nor does she want to actually plunge drageda into bloody war. that wouldn't end well for anyone even if their victory is, in her eyes, practically a guarantee. she wants to find mallaidh and make love to her until she's boneless and empty-headed. 

instead blixen takes up patrol with a slightly manic vigor, hopeful someone will have the bad sense to try and cross them on this fine day.