Яikyn

“How do you make Mordecai come down?” she asks, and chilly line runs up the length of my entire body; I’ve met one other who spoke like that. I’d heard it first not far from here, where a unicorn shaped bloodstain probably still colors the ground (or so my dramatic sensibilities like to think), and I’m smart enough to immediately recognize it. While Mordecai also rings bells of familiarity, I’m more worried about the buzzers and sirens that begin to madly whir and whistle when I think of the Gaucho.

Duir immediately distrusts this shadow woman above us more than he did already. When she turns to threatening me, he decides he’s on his way out; glancing about us for anywhere that might serve as cover, the fawn is most horrified to realize, not for the first time, that the only cover out here is me. Looking about again for good measure, he at last forfeits, and simply tucks himself as close to my side as he can, gazing up at this wicked (and fear inspiring) mare above us with tentative worry that this, like most meetings between me and others, will go badly.

I, on the other hoof, am more worried about hers being the only shadow. I crane my gaze out behind her, towards the sea where the Throat used to be, and maybe still is. Maybe I should ask Aelin, if we (doubtfully) meet again, where it had vanished to. I would personally avoid an idiot who kept almost dying around me. The worry and unease clenching at my chest only makes Duir’s fear of the pegasus above escalate, to such a degree that it does not ease at all when I breathe a sigh of relief.

The sky around us is empty, but for the sound of her voice.

Her insults and threats are cast as she submits to mine, however, perhaps knowing within herself that some people have no qualms hurting another, because, as far as I can see, it’s a part of who she is, too. I will admit its an odd quality about a female, most of them I’d met having been delicate, graceful, and constrained. Mordecai is not these things.

"Mm, that does sound less than pleasant," I remark as her hooves kiss the rocky earth, taking advantage of her closeness to wonder why do I know you, "for someone who didn’t have my repertoire of skills, of course."

Duir’s face is one that reads, “are you completely mad?;” I don’t even have to look. I can feel it radiating off of him as he stares, wide eyed, at her approach. I’m not worried at all, confident in my magic, my speed, and my ability to hide to believe that, if I have to, I can leave her twitching here while I get the fuck out. So, I, unlike my earthen fawn, greet her with a level gaze, meeting her stark eyes with a hope to remember her in the motion.

Nothing. All I can think of is a stupid floral stench, and the red wood of the Bear. When had I known these things together? Flowers, forest, Mordecai…

“Rikyn,” she tells me, staring expectantly. So, I stare back, waiting for the usual sentence or inquiry which falls after saying ones name flatly like that. The result is that an awkwardly long silence extends after her statement, my brows slowly furrowing downwards with disgruntled impatience the longer I wait. Does she want to me to pretend like she hasn’t just told me her name three times? Is she summoning some demon to eat me?

"What." I at last state, emphasizing the flatness of what should be a question, just like she did. Maybe it’s a bit like I’m mocking her, but I’m perturbed. Who raised this girl? Badgers?

[ OOC: LAUGHING ]

there's no place to hide down here