Redsand Canyon Damnation comes with a pretty face

cameo. yeehaw. tag me if you need another renard response

it had, once upon a time, been renard's job to know what went on in their territory. nobody came in or out without them knowing about it. they were every shadow, and the reason you watched your back before you started talking treason. praimfaya was the only one here with the presence of mind to do something with it, but habits didn't fade so easily.

and nyra wasn't quiet.

renard didn't need to be a shadow to hear her. all they needed was ears. maybe a nose for the blood she trailed behind her. 

so all of that mess with neverwinter forest had been pointless after all. all of that interest in donovan. when it came to the event that finally drove the saints into action, would make this joke worthwhile staying for, they should have been paying attention to her.

seelie court had left them at more of a loss than they'd have liked, when it came to the saints' current affairs, and they hadn't had the chance to speak with praimfaya yet. or donovan, if they could be bothered. he wasn't likely to reveal anything helpful.

so of course they came along behind her, quiet in the shade and eager as a hunter locking eyes on its wounded prey. she dripped blood like she'd bathed in it, sobbing as she ran, such a stark contrast from their first meeting with clay, all perfect and put together until he said the wrong thing. they'd known from the very second she started roaring that she was as much of a liability as donovan was, too hotheaded to take a second and think – the patient act only worked when you could maintain it. and they'd been right.

she wasn't dead, but it was a close thing. drawing a heavy breath through their nose, stained with heavy salt-and-iron, renard drew soundlessly up behind her, stopping in the overhang of the cliff. from the shadow, they were nothing beyond a pair of violet eyes and the silver gleam of a grin; not hiding, just waiting.

and then she spoke.

renard would have laughed, if they were in any other company. easthollow was something they'd have to learn of later, but it wasn't yuèlóng, it wasn't neverwinter forest, it wasn't seelie court. it was ursus. their allies. she'd lost her temper over a kid, and here she was, crying at donovan's feet.

if something like this had happened back at the court, aion would have called them forward. they wouldn't have needed to ask for the command; they would have torn her throat out in one bite, and that would have been the end of it. there was no room for this kind of mistake.

if donovan was smart, he would have done the same thing. 

instead, she was playing him for a fool, and he was buying it. 

they shouldn't have been surprised. and yet, somehow, he found new ways to disappoint them. of course someone would react badly to their child being ragdolled, and neither leader of ursus had struck them as particularly forgiving to begin with.

stepping from the shadow, renard waited patiently at the edge of the cliff-face to either be addressed or for the conversation to come to an end, their habitual smile still curling their lip. if praimfaya didn't show, this was information she'd certainly be interested in. 

and just like nemisis screaming, spilling blood from her torn throat as donovan stood above her, this was a show they didn't intend to miss.