The Sunspire he held my hands above my head and i commenced to pray

hmm, i don't know for sure sooo i'm ok with any kind!

though it shouldn't necessarily surprise praimfaya to come across a saint wolf outside of it's borders; she feels a slight swell of it nonetheless as she comes across one that harbors donovan's scent. mixed as it was with a scent that, though, implacable to her, spells 'unwell'. her pace slows, with her sweep of the canyon from high up complete she has no pressing place to be; and she lets out a low chuff to her brown cloaked packmate. he doesn't particularly strike anything in her that strikes her as familiar except for perhaps his scent. praimfaya doesn't think she's seen his face before and if she has even in passing, she has likely been consumed by her own plights to take much notice.

a mistake; as a warrior she knows.

you look like shit. is how praimfaya chooses to make her first impression upon her fellow saint; though her tone is teasing there is a grim undertone to her frown as it begins to tug the corners of her lips downwards. for a moment; blinding and terrifying with how it comes back in full force, praimfaya is reminded of dacio. how he, too, looked like this shortly before his passing. a riot of panic swells beneath her breast, begging her heart to beat rapidly within it's prison of flesh and bone.

a breath is taken in an attempt to fight back those waves of unwelcome memories, of unwelcome fear.

seriously though. has anyone been checking out your wounds?