Dragoncrest Cliffs pick your bones up, girl

going to say this is backdated to sunday, march 2nd

the afternoon is partially cloudy and cold — like every day of this winter thus far. while blodreina was previously indifferent to winter — it was just another season — this winter carries with it the weight of what she ( and drageda ) have lost. she regards the white snow that blankets drageda with the an adamance that reflects the stone her heart has felt like it's turned into; maybe it's always been stone that hard and impaled with thorns that cut and sting ...but it's the wake of the commander's death it's become weighted. the truth was, it wasn't just heda's death. as her rise in hormones as her body prepares for the coming estrus cycle — tantamount to complete and utter betrayal in her mind — she'd been thinking more and more of kendra.

but she thinks of wildfire and wonders just how much antumbra had suffered privately.

perhaps love was nothing but a trap. it lures you in with sweet promises and mighty decelerations and warmth and acceptance only to be turned against you at the first sign of real turmoil.

love in blodreina's mind was death; like the slow squeeze of a boa constrictor. crushing but not quick enough that you realized it was happening until it happened.

she lets out a low, skeptic snort as she walks her patrol on the eastern border, hardened gaze scanning the neutral territory, drawing in the scents. thus far, it was quiet and there appeared to be nothing that struck her as out of ordinary. a routine patrol, then. in hindsight, though she feels a lot of pent up restlessness inside her — an accumulation of a lot of things — she is glad for the quietude.