Barrow Fields if you see me floatin' too many times

a dead man. caiaphas wished she could say the same; her gaze traced the ugly lacing of scars once more, almost hungrily. they were such an impressive imprint -- perhaps the last living reminder of whatever dead soul exacted them.

the male's question caused her to lift her gaze back to his eyes -- or eye, really -- briefly; were they at war?

her expression sharpened and for a moment seemed almost pained, for she thought of the glacier wars, and how poorly it had turned out for her. "no." she answered, for a raid into a territory to retrieve a stolen packmate hardly seemed a war. "a war requires an army. we are just a bunch of pups, squabbling over a favored piece of meat. but we are certainly enemies -- and i would certainly kill them, given the chance."

she didn't leave alarian with much to respond with; all the same, she searched him expectantly for some answer.