Dragoncrest Cliffs we want them to say, damn, these bitches can paint—

would aure have asked her question aloud: do cheka's cry; blodreina might have admitted that yes. they do. had she not cried when kendra died? yes. she had. had she not cried when heda died? in private, but yes. despite blodreina's best attempts to seem otherwise she isn't a stonehearted bitch. she is but not because she's unfeeling. she cares and she cares a lot about those she allows herself to get close to. getting to that point with blodreina, however, took a lot of patience. her guard is built like an impregnable fortress around her with piercing spikes and motes full of starving alligators and a legion within it's walls as her last defense. she guards herself meticulously because she's learned in almost three years of life that no one else will.

she watches aure depart, eyes shimmering with tears and blodreina's not quite sure whether she made it better or worse. for a moment she considers going after her — you can't run away form all your problems, after all — but in the end decides to give the pale sylph her space. maybe she'd try again. maybe one day, she'll get it right and be able to tell whether she's making a friend or not.

with a soft sigh, the gona picks up her hunt, though her tracking is, at best, distracted.