.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
HER GUNS ARE ALWAYS LOADED! She continued to admire the gem from all angles, highly pleased with how shiny and reflective it was. She debated finding a way to smash it, so she could put the pieces into her mane or tail as a fashion statement - the pearly white segments would look magnificent against the stark ebony of her hair. She was happily debating this when, with a sharp pivot of her ears, she caught the sound of approaching hoofbeats. For some strange reason, she placed her body above the crystal, to protect it with her weight - she wasn't sure why, as, after all, it was just an inanimate object, one of hundreds dotted into this cave's wall. But her instinct told her to protect it, so protect it she did. She needn't have worried, though, as it was a stallion who approached, and a very familiar one, too. Mauja. Their last encounter was still fresh in her mind, although marginally less so after what she had gone through as a wraith; even in the dim light of the caverns, she could see a hint of blood on his pale fur. She idly wondered who it belonged to - whose body had felt the sting of his horn or the wrath of his hooves. A quick flick of her pale gaze over him told her that the dried blood wasn't his only complaint; he had a number of other bites that looked half-healed. What in the name of Cinnoru had he been up to? Before she could ask - resume her bombardment of questions - he spoke first, telling her to keep the gem warm. An expression of confusion flashed across her refined features, head tilting as she gazed at him through narrowed eyes. Had his wounds addled with his mind? "Why in the name of all that's holy would I want to keep a crystal warm? It's just as shiny whether it's hot or cold." She was careful to keep the disdain out of her voice, not wanting to sound too patronizing, in case he did have a reasonable explanation behind his request. She continued to dart glances at his wounds, her egg-crystal momentarily forgotten as she peered up at him - still careful to avoid prolonged periods of eye contact, in case he got a touch of d'Artagnan syndrome and turned mental on her. "You look a mess," she tactlessly observed, voice polite even if her words weren't so much. |
Other characters have permission to use magic/violence against Nyx at any time.
