Nova Peak Feels like I'm the only one that's sick of playin'

Wylla had somewhat selfish reasons for attending the call when Takiyok's voice rose up through the forest. She never suspected a joiner. Having assumed Takiyok was alone and had some other reason for howling, she made good time through the trees, hoping to beat Mahler there. She understood the woman better now in the wake of her last encounter with her par— her fellow Eisen. She thought it was a good time to talk about it. Not that she had any right. It was none of her business, but she was pretty good at butting in.

She was surprised to find not just the wintery Takiyok there, but a man as well. He was smaller than Mahler and much thinner but larger than her, with a white-gold coat that made her stomach clench unpleasantly. It was lovely on him, a thin sunray over a field of snow, but he resembled Mahler's one daughter, and the mere suggestion of that made her feel a little sick to her stomach for no good reason. She focused instead on his amber eyes and did her best to appear unruffled when she came before them.

Hello, she said with a light inflection at the end to hint at a question. Her eye darted between them, but rested first on Takiyok. She was the one who had called, after all. The plain white of the Griff's face next to his soft gold was strangely comforting to her. At least he was a man. If he was a woman, jealousy might've curdled her greeting. Who's this?