Dragoncrest Cliffs Bloodsport

grabby hands

A call, just beyond the border. Maleah was not yet the one who should be guarding — if ever at all — but still, curiosity seems to overtake the newly-appointed seawolf.
On shadow-weaver legs, she flits well into the forested tangle. A newcomer waits, cloaked in pale silvers and adorning a russet mask. The stranger smells of cedarwood and of foreigners, and is definitely no one she's ever seen before.
Her eyebrows crease, a wary expression worn as she decides to keep her distance. Who are you? a rather blunt ask, head high and shoulders back. This is Sapphique. Can we help you with something, or...?