Honeyed Pasture But here you come alone and crying, now you want to be my friend

The rain drove in heavy gusts, obscuring Mal's footsteps. Raleska froze as a voice called out behind her, the tone not quite readable. Turning around slowly, it took the mud-splattered Eyjolfur a minute to place Mal.

So much time had passed that were it not for the almost familiar way he hailed her, Raleska wouldn't have recognized him at all -- but that tone brought it all back.

She didn't remember the specifics of their conversation, but she did remember how he had made her feel -- as if it had been her fault he wasn't being clear. Anyone else would have calmly explained the simple misunderstanding, but Raleska recalled he had been a little drip.

Raleska's skin crawled and she stiffened, fixing Mal with an expression that was far from warm. She wasn't keen on a repeat, and figured she owed this guy absolutely nothing -- least of all a modicum of civility when Past-Mal had expended her none.

But that was Caiaphas thinking, and she was Raleska. She was older. A little wiser. Maybe not kinder.

Raleska's fur settled, but the coldness in her gaze remained. "I'm going towards the tree line for shelter." She was far enough that she didn't realize that tree line encapsulated Neverwinter - come to think of it, Raleska had no idea where Neverwinter was, and had never planned to visit it herself. "Are you here to be rude to me again?" That was definitely antagonistic -- oops, Raleska's Caiaphas slipped.