Dawnlark Plains 'cause you're my present, my future, my lesson, my teacher
warbringer
454 Posts
Ooc — romanova
Guardian
Tactician
Offline
#6
blodreina's shoulders haunch as the air, somehow, feels like it's growing colder around them. she dedicates part of her brain to focuses upon it: how it seeps through her course winter pelage as if it is nothing more than tissue paper, how it both numbs and causes pain on her nose. anything to distract her from her biological processes. maybe if she could distract herself from it, it might stop. logically, she knows that it won't work like that but she's trying to be optimistic about it even if she's desperately grasping at straws. the impending doom of potentially being caught in the vicious looking snow squall barreling towards them and the frigid cold offers respite but it is disappointingly brief.

her body seems to have taken a page out of blodreina's own philosophy book: be loud enough and demanding enough and you'll be paid attention.

her head swings back to face him as he speaks around the rabbit he's scooped up. she could barely make out the words he speaks — in part because of the howling wind baring down on them and because his words are muddled by the obstruction hanging from betwixt his jaws. blodreina gets the message soon enough as he turns and heads away from her and the storming squall.

hey! wait! don't leave me out here! she huffs as she races after him ( not really expecting nor wanting him to listen ) because she's not overly familiar with any territory that isn't dragoncrest cliffs and because her survival instinct appears to trump out her resolution that she should be isolated. having a companion ...a male companion at that wasn't precisely the isolation she'd meant; but she couldn't really give a rabbit's ass at the moment.

she follows behind him, hesitating visibly with a cringe as she watches him dive into a knoll. she feels claustrophobic just looking at it. it is a second's hesitation before she's diving in the den after him before the storm can swallow her whole. in the end, she'd rather suffer through her claustrophobia before freezing to death. one, she knew she could survive at least. maybe. spirits of the commander, it was large enough for the two of them to fit comfortably but she is acutely aware of his physical presence so close to him. it makes her shiver.

she looks at him sheepishly, swallowing thickly, trying to tell herself the thundering of her heart is strictly because of running from impending doom and nothing to do with his suddenly close and overwhelming proximity.
roangeda · green-lit

trigedasleng
— your hands are wet with the blood
of an empire. you lick it off.