Sea Lion Shores and a voice cut from steel

the thick clouds chase pirouette 'round the sun, drifting over the golden disk obscuring it from view. the morning air is warm, thick with a syrupy dampness that clings to the emerald blades of grass, twisted in spiderwebs spun betwixt the trees in droplets of dew. praimfaya tries to stay in territories close to the keep and aware from the bleeding forest; though her aversion is only because she is in no state to fight. revenge is temptation incarnate within her; jus drein, jus daun awoken with all the ferocity within her.

she tells herself that she should not listen to her pride. it wasn't worth another fight. it wasn't worth the feel of another's teeth at her throat. though not the first time she's had it. it reminded her too much of sadgeda; the atrocities committed by her and the other commander potentials. a shaky breath is taken as she shrugs through a silky cobweb; a small, delicate shake of her coat given as if it could dispel the stubborn strands that cling to her scarred left shoulder and billow in the soft breeze — too warm to be considered cooling — and lets the seabreeze entice her to the sea lion shores.

frostbound gaze surveys the sand dunes and pools of stagnant seawater trapped by the recede of the tide. she takes note of the sealions sunbathing on the dunes to her right, plenty far down the beach that she doesn't think she will be much of a thought to them. mindful ever the same she makes her ways towards the frothing and foaming waves and lets out a sigh of relief as the cold seawater crashes against her paws and legs, splashing up against her belly.