Lake Rodney she’s worth more than she realizes

though briefly — and embarrassingly — baffled by the sandy lake beach praimfaya's usually so carefully crafted composure is swept away by confusion and a bit of childish wonder she is quick to snatch it back and place the armor she has surrounded herself with back into place. spirits, she is worlida and future wanheda of roangeda ...she needed to act like it, she chides herself. she swipes her paw on the grass in a thinly veiled attempt to rid it of clinging grains of sand and to her dismay does not entirely succeed. for the most part it works and for now that is enough.

it is only then, as praimfaya's frostbound silver gaze studies the lake in search of a clearer path towards the lakewaters that does not involve her trudging through sand, that she hears the sounds of another. over the angry and wrathful warcry of the earth deep within its bowels she hears the sound of something forging, of claws scraping against earth — searching, she presumes — and assuming that it is prey she foregoes her own search and alters her path to investigate.

disappointment floods praimfaya as she comes upon the pallid woman, and though it shows in the small droop of her shoulders she is quick to steel them a heartbeat later. hei. praimfaya calls out to her in greeting, leaving plenty of distance between them, wary of strangers without her setnes at her back.