Redsand Canyon a half that’s living to destroy

praimfaya draws in a breath of the early morning air; cooler today in the stead of the persistent soupy heat that has befallen the wilds since the constant deluge of rain has begun. the sands of the canyon have a constant damp smell, as does the redrock that cage the saints in. at times, it becomes too suffocating to the commander, the grit of the sand wedged deep inbetween her toes, clinging to her pelage as if she were living on the coast absent the sea. she remembers, vaguely, mentioning to illidan that she likes the coast and finds that she misses it with a pang of nostalgia that belongs to one of the spirits of the commanders.

which one, she couldn't say for sure; for this commander is hazy and there is never a voice, face or name associated with them.

praimfaya shifts out from the rock ledge she's taken shelter under as the rains lessen and blinks frostbound gaze skyward; frowning. she feels claustrophobic without the sugary moonbeams, without the neverending smattering of stars winking from the velveteen colors of night and early dawn. instead, all she sees now is the oppressive and swallowing swathes of grey clouds. wistful; she yearns for the rains to cease and for the sky to open back up once more.

Ken had never considered that rain upon a red canyon woukd create a horrible red mud that clung grossly to his paws. As he walked over crimson earth searching for shelter from the drizzle, the rain lightened a bit, though he was already something of a drippy mess at this point. Looking now instead only partially for shelter, and partially for somewhere to lay down, he caught sight of that silvery gaze peeking from the little niche, which he moved towards eagerly. By no means did Ken really like the people here. Nyra and the leader, Donovan, had greeted him in a way almost suspicious, even as he had no real bad intentions (beyond his laziness,) and that was an easy way to make him feel not at home here. But perhaps this character would give him less of a curious side-eye, and so unknowing of her already-claustrophobic feelings, he leaned in to make eye contact, Any mo' room in dere fo' an extra body?

there are few in the world praimfaya trusts; certainly not strangers and definitely not her fellow saints, but because she has good reason to keep to cards close to her chest. she isn’t here to make friends. she’s here to observe, to glean whatever she can that would be useful for the movement against the saints. she walks a dangerous line but finds it’s easier that she thought it would be…or perhaps she’s found a hidden calling at being a starlet of the stage, in espionage.

the male approaches and so used to and repulsed by donovan’s constant use of flirtations, praimfaya, unfairly, expects this to be a similar case. she stonewalls the grandmaster as she will stonewall all others.

for a moment, praimfaya blinks at the newcomer; debating. she really doesn’t want to share but there is plenty of room and she doesn’t always want to be a coldhearted bitch. she shuffles to the side, ribcage pushing against the jagged wall in effort to make room. i haven’t seen you around before. praimfaya states the obvious. i’m praimfaya.