Sunspire Mountains she slipped the lock, and changed her dress

after some time by the stream, she'd allowed herself to work loose some of the tension her body contained to gaze absently at the water. 

it was no more than a moment. she could have laid her hand on a bible and sworn an oath that the universe saw fit to reunite opposing forces in that infinitesimal aperture of time, passing along no rumor regarding the fossilized spall of her history about to enter swiftly into her orbit.

the phlegmatic beckon harbored nary a breath of warmth. tiercel— no, esmé, sat herself upright, making no move to embrace the giver of her profaned life, and was outerly inscrutable despite the seasickness in her head. she deftly hid the soft pink of her abdomen with a hairpin bend of her forelegs, though her vermilion vesture was worn without compunction.

"i have to admit, i am disappointed with my reception," she said, feigning woundedness, before meeting wylla's dulled gaze with a sterile, withering stare.