these violent delights have violent ends
The woods whisper their arrival. Leaves and grasses pass the message back to the warchief, whose expression hardens when she hears. The Greatwood parts before Delah like a sea, a current of moss and a canopy of boughs moving her far more swiftly through than the Grounders likely think is possible. It is the magic of the wood; size is relative.
The trail Amalia and Ronin are on will jut sharply, revealing Delah in a moss-lit clearly with her arms across her chest. Wings folded neatly against her back, she only appears to be alone.
Where once Delah's eyes fell upon Amalia with tentative acceptance, now they are hardened and dismissive. The warrior has little time for those who make a mockery of her ancient traditions, less so for those who prove themselves weak in combat.
As for Ronin? Hardened moss eyes fall across the blight king, Safrin's Fallen Star.
"Why have you come."
The trail Amalia and Ronin are on will jut sharply, revealing Delah in a moss-lit clearly with her arms across her chest. Wings folded neatly against her back, she only appears to be alone.
Where once Delah's eyes fell upon Amalia with tentative acceptance, now they are hardened and dismissive. The warrior has little time for those who make a mockery of her ancient traditions, less so for those who prove themselves weak in combat.
As for Ronin? Hardened moss eyes fall across the blight king, Safrin's Fallen Star.
"Why have you come."
