we're all stories unfinished and we die to find some fitting words to write
Loki is never one to say no to playing, especially not to her own kind (and other dragons are rare enough in her Ascended-heavy world), so it doesn’t take much enticing before the older dragon forgets about fishing entirely. The log shakes a bit as she launches herself into the sky, leathery wings pumping to carry her higher, to show the hatchling how those spirals are done properly. Or something like that.
The Grounder chuckles softly at both her companion's antics and the observation. “It is odd sometimes, how we have all this wilderness and yet people always seem to find each other.” Maybe it was the way of Caido, that people are never truly alone unless they want to be. “I’m Wessex,” she says, offering a hand and stepping towards the other woman, a pleasant enough, practiced and diplomatic expression on her face.
The Grounder chuckles softly at both her companion's antics and the observation. “It is odd sometimes, how we have all this wilderness and yet people always seem to find each other.” Maybe it was the way of Caido, that people are never truly alone unless they want to be. “I’m Wessex,” she says, offering a hand and stepping towards the other woman, a pleasant enough, practiced and diplomatic expression on her face.
WESSEX
