Greatwater Lake Krýo

ah, so that was the way of it. she took the chilly tone like a winter wind across the face—harsh but expected from a stranger, and therefore not so terrible. her grey eyes looked him over for a long moment before her mouth followed suit in response.

signore is a title of respect in my tongue, fiamma replied, smiling. i would never assume your name—which is. . .?

she stepped into the water well removed from him, padding into the shallows with careful, questing steps. submerged herself to her shoulders, able to still meet his eyes, while her grayscale pelt took on water and grew darker, heavier.

my name is fiamma, she offered as an olive branch, unsure of whether he'd give her the same courtesy. something had hurt this young man, or hardened him, at least; the stiffness of his body and aloofness of personality was a dead giveaway.

but tough shells, after all, were the most satisfying to crack. 

her eyelids fluttered shut as she soaked, feeling the dirt and grime from travel bloom out from her form in wretched murky water. not much current in the lake, but still the tiny waves tugged at her. a deep sigh left her muzzle in some semblance of bliss. it had been too long since a proper bath, and this went a long way in cleansing her in body and soul.

had he come here for the same reprieve? absolution; salvation? resurrection?

her eyes remained closed, waiting for his reply.