Barrow Fields “What a paragon of virtue you are, gunslinger!"

no worries! ♥

praimfaya keeps pace with illidan as they move west along the shoreline, following the lulling roar of the calm sea. the sea air is different from the air of the mountains and even the crisp, pine air of broken antler fen. the seabrine is tangy; a mixture of salt and fish and algae. yet, to her surprise, she doesn't exactly find it unpleasant. it brings with it a sense of nostalgia that she cannot place and believes does not belong to her but one of the commanders of the past; a pining for a home and time that is not her own. she lifts her face to the salty spray of the sea as it crashes along the beach, letting it wash against her paws and ankles and recede just as quick leaving a trail of sand and broken seashells along the tops of her paws in it's wake.

illidan speaks then, in a tone that sounds tired and draws her frostbound gaze to his face; attentive as he poses his question to her. do you live beside the sea? no, praimfaya replies with a soft shake of her head. i live on the sunspire mountains. sawtooth spire. it's claimed by a pack called sagtannet. she gestures in it's direction absently and lets out a wistful sigh then. i like it, though. the sea, i mean. she offers him a soft smile. it feels ...like home. she struggles with how to phrase it, sure that she likely wasn't making any sense.

but how does she explain about the commanders of the past and their influences upon her without sounding ...well, crazy? that probably sounds strange. she adds with an amused snort at herself a beat later.