Greatwater Lake She’s betting on science

A name to the face, before he began wordlessly to suffuse himself in modicums of past.

Battered skin; gossamer ravaged into thin, ramshackle fragments of gore. A bloody web of flesh - gloriously attenuated. Smouldering stares, to pierce with ice the cloak of her lifeblood. Nefarious jaws, to tear at gauze pelt. Her fear had fed his flame, a fathomless hunger, unquenchable even as blood would pool onto his tongue and rattle his insides like the harsh sting of a nettle. Chaste soul would pay; would feed him, as he waived with the sin of greed.

And yet…

She was not Tundra – did not bequeath upon him such electric power to combat his tyranny, soak it in her own, a pool of bloody ardour set alight in divine deportment. The ward’s body had been left mattered and decrepit among fingers of frost.

“I hurt his ward,” came the heavy timbre of his tongue, storm-glazed eyes shifting to narrow upon the grandmaster, "long ago, though I did not anticipate to have made such an indent in his memory.” A pause, as a curling of wind dove at his cheek, and ill-defined smirk began to wane. “Do you travel together?”