gladly feast on all those who would dare to try and subdue us
Normally, Riya is Anju's eyes in the sky. Considering that even the happy-go-lucky dragon dials intensely in alongside her sister during training, they are both delayed in their reaction times to the arrival of another. No mines go off, so clearly whoever it is has light feet or impeccable senses, but the voice that calls through the fog and the dark, humanoid shape imply that someone has made it to their area. All without setting anything off. Curiosity firmly hooked despite the unknown name - one Anju, at least, would have brushed off without answering to - the sisters pause and turn their heads in eerie synchrony towards the figure.
"We are not Amaris," she replies succinctly, the plural as natural to her as breathing. Riya swans away into the air, draconic trills of greeting slipping through her teeth. Anju gives a long-suffering sigh and follows, utilizing what she has been learning to safely traverse the distance. The woman is...familiar, in a way that frankly most people are to Anju. So long as she has laid eyes on them, that's all that counts for her level of recognition. Wiping her brow of residual sweat, she watches as Riya flies looping circles around the blonde before diving low to perch between the two women, ivory head reaching high to beg for physical affection. "You did not set off the mines," Anju notes, a hint of interest in her flat tone, dark brows rising. Clearly something is bothering the woman, but Anju is not invested enough to care, nor socially awkward enough to ask.
"We are not Amaris," she replies succinctly, the plural as natural to her as breathing. Riya swans away into the air, draconic trills of greeting slipping through her teeth. Anju gives a long-suffering sigh and follows, utilizing what she has been learning to safely traverse the distance. The woman is...familiar, in a way that frankly most people are to Anju. So long as she has laid eyes on them, that's all that counts for her level of recognition. Wiping her brow of residual sweat, she watches as Riya flies looping circles around the blonde before diving low to perch between the two women, ivory head reaching high to beg for physical affection. "You did not set off the mines," Anju notes, a hint of interest in her flat tone, dark brows rising. Clearly something is bothering the woman, but Anju is not invested enough to care, nor socially awkward enough to ask.
