charlie
"Oh, err..." Flashing the Maverick an apologetic smile, Charlie wraps her arms around one of his as they stroll. "What we did, was offer up precious gemstones from the Climb. Back in my day only ancients were allowed in, which made all of Dygra's gems much more rare." Charlie explains with a skip in her step to keep up with Danta's strides. "The Guild leader would announce that there was going to be a prize for the hunter who bagged the monster, which meant that people from all over Caido would show up." The implication was that, of course, there were bound to be strangers. Strangers who, if they were to disappear, wouldn't be missed. "And if a few didn't make it back? Well, that only reaffirmed the need for a monster hunter's guild."
Tutting playfully under her breath, the priestess grinned. "They really should have been looking where they were going." She scoffed daintily, before drawing to a halt in the snow. Wiggling her fingers animatedly, the little blonde reached into her pocket for a hand-sized dagger bejewelled with rubies and garnets.
"Ugh, so many clothes." Charlie complains as she glances down at herself. Entirely muffled by clothing, the priestess can only huff under her breath. "I always hate using my palm." She says. In a flash the dagger sings across her skin revealing a bright red line of blood. Turning to Danta, she blows across the wounds on his forearm before turning her breath to her palm. The skin neatly stitches itself back together—it was fresh and a clean cut— but to make sure, she presses a kiss against the Maverick's wound.
Tutting playfully under her breath, the priestess grinned. "They really should have been looking where they were going." She scoffed daintily, before drawing to a halt in the snow. Wiggling her fingers animatedly, the little blonde reached into her pocket for a hand-sized dagger bejewelled with rubies and garnets.
"Ugh, so many clothes." Charlie complains as she glances down at herself. Entirely muffled by clothing, the priestess can only huff under her breath. "I always hate using my palm." She says. In a flash the dagger sings across her skin revealing a bright red line of blood. Turning to Danta, she blows across the wounds on his forearm before turning her breath to her palm. The skin neatly stitches itself back together—it was fresh and a clean cut— but to make sure, she presses a kiss against the Maverick's wound.
she's the giggle at a funeral
Hella golden retriever energy. Small unrefined horns made of ruby. Regular spade-shaped tail.
