A cactus by any other name

Anju

The proud woman is mollified by his easy acceptance, even with the graceful way he postpones Riya’s help. Though she eyes the tusk with a plain curiosity - wondering at the size of it, and envisioning the animal it could have come from - Anju’s attention is still focused mostly on Tal. She’d heard of the Sword, of course, but had yet to meet him. “You are built for speed, rolls and sidesteps will aid you greatly in sparring to avoid hits from powerful foes, but a shield is a smart idea,” she remarks, keen eyes militaristic as they take in his figure anew, analytical yes but all in the hopes of being helpful. “Perhaps I should seek out this man myself.” It’s a hilarious thing to say while lying wounded on the sands, but never let it be said that Anju slacked in her training regiments.

The pain of shifting onto the cleverly crafted frame enforces silence, Anju biting down on most all sounds aside from deep, wounded grunts and the softest whine she wouldn’t admit to making. Distractions in the form of questions are appreciated, but it takes time for her to catch her breath before she can respond, laying limp on the fabric in a boneless heap in the meantime. “Yes, it crafted me a ring that nullifies Ascended powers - but only the weaker ones, for now. It’s this ring, actually.” She lifts one bronze skinned hand to show him the beetle ring, and the little button that is the gilded wings.

I didn’t mean to be this kind of creature
The brain, the heart, the color or the features