great clouds rolling over the hills
and if you close your eyes, does it almost feel
He is glad to draw a laugh from her with his comment about the flowers – and it’s true, her rebuttal. There aren’t a ton of growing things in the Tundra. Moss, lichen, that sort of thing; some pine trees…but it’s not a wild green place like the Jungle, or even a quietly green place like the Falls. It’s a stark place, a white place, and he doesn’t mind. Usually. Sometimes it gets to you, the emptiness, and every once in a while he understands why some of the Brothers aren’t quite right in the head. And sometimes, when that happens, he seeks company elsewhere. To remind him that life isn’t always the starkness of the Tundra Brotherhood.
Clouds gather overhead, suddenly, and lightening flickers in them. A small part of him catalogues this (he’d never met a weather-worker before but then suddenly there was Kratos and Nihlus and now Lyris) but the greater part of him is exhilarated. The warrior glances at the sky, and then back down at her, grinning at him, the very epitome of the wildness he appreciates in the Jungle women. And not barbed with sarcasm and wariness born of an unfriendly history, either, which is a huge bonus. Her summoning of the weather is playful, but impressive, and he feels the need to return in kind.
“No, I’m not sure,” he replies, a wry laugh in his voice (he doesn’t, after all, know what else she could be capable of), “But I think I can handle it.” There isn’t much ice to be played with here in the Jungle, and the wind would only potentially wreak havoc with her own display, but there are bones here. Ever conscious of the fury he’d invoked the last time he’d pulled horse bones from the ground in the Jungle (he hadn’t cared at the time, as angry as he was with them, but he cares now), he reaches instead for animal bones, conveniently finding some sort of great feline almost whole beneath their feet. The ground shivers for a moment and then the bones burst from the ground, the shape of the feline obvious as it prowls around them, just a little less coordinated that a live feline (he usually draws on equine bones – they’re bigger, and more familiar – and animating the great cat is harder). “I think you’ll find we’re equally fascinating.” Brennen’s smile is just a bit feral, just a little off it’s normal dryness, just a little bigger. “But you’re prettier, of course.”