Seaside Moors my boy builds coffins with hammers and nails

cool fingers trace slow shivers along her spine as vigilant eyes latch hungrily upon the phantom drifting towards her. she shifts liquid eyes to pool across the entirety of his figure before returning to clutch strongly at the honeyed orb swirling back. 'no...i doubted that myself' she agrees silently, plume swishing restlessly at her hocks as a rough smile flashes pearly fangs and she instead muses "should i be offended by your lack of faith in me?" a brow quirks, tone laced with wry jest despite the discomfort continuing to writhe in her gut. she shifts her weight, casting a shaded look across the breezy land peering back from the shadows behind him. how did they not feel vulnerable residing amongst such denuded land? she inhales deeply, trying to encourage her brain to be more open minded; many wolves would turn a nose up at the suffocating forests she felt so safe within. had she herself not caught a glimpse of such a mindset after returning from the brazen peaks where you danced with the stars? they were adaptable if anything and...she blinks back to the bleached sentry, certain things may well make it worth it. 

letting a smile linger along charcoal lips, she blinks and lets her tail touch lightly against the ruffling figure of bertók tucked against tense hindlegs. "so is this the part where i start listing my worth for rusalka?" she eases into the joke a little stiffly as her eyes catch the silvered light with the shift of her head, flashing back to the man as fangs prick lightly at her lips.