Barrow Fields fire and life incarnate

the sylph placed one thin wrist in front of the next delicately, a gesture odd and somewhat deliberate -- as if she had been asked to divert her attention from something that innately seized her interest, and politely asked to defer to something that innately did not pique her interest. her sharp yellow eyes roved from the dredge of saltwinter to the dark form that approached; a storm-riddled, dark creature.

oddly, the flame-washed wolf was forgotten -- as it had drifted well from their sphere of conversation.


caiaphas did not recognize the female that last approached, though the scent the wind carried told plainly which allegiance the dark wolf branded. quickly, caiaphas had to decide who was worse -- an old enemy, or new?

she made a great show of being wholly unperturbed by the drageda wolf's arrival -- though inwardly her stomach coiled around itself in the manner of a displeased snake. her hawkish gaze remained steadfast on the saltwinter outcast. slyly, she canted her thin barrel to the side so that rosalyn might see her condition, and with a wicked croon ushered a taunt into the world: "vlad sends his regards."

she hoped the lie, carefully crafted and convincingly delivered, might sunder rosalyn's disinterested facade  -- or at the very least, break her guard down so the siren queen had a chance to sink her fangs into the she-wolf's sorry hide.