03-14-2018, 04:23 PM
That scent of smoke and blood is here. So soon after their battle, his unique odor is imprinted on her brain. Foregoing walking, the pastel queen explodes from the canopy, wings carrying her to the western edge of her kingdom. He is not difficult to spot, his contrasting coat standing out among the skeletal trunks that mark the edge of Sylva. With a sweeping flourish, she lands before him.
He has not stepped quite inside, a smart move on his part. Their last meeting was not friendly. However, it was a divinely sanctioned battle, with no personal element. Truly, she can't hold it against him. Gods know she did her best to damage him in turn. But something is bothering him, his face tells her this immediately. Not even giving her time to address him, he launches into his apology. It all comes spilling out, and she can't help but feel a twinge of pity for him. She had frequently felt at war with herself, but his battle seemed much more literal.
"Well, Castile, I am Sabra of Sylva. I'm glad to meet you in better circumstances. I accept your apology, although it wasn't necessary. Everyone participating in the alliance knows what they're getting into. And you know full well I did my best to make you work for victory. Truly, Sylva would be fortunate to have a warrior of your caliber among our own ranks."
She smile at him calmly, deeply grateful that her injuries had been healed after the match. The torn shoulder muscles were as good as new, and the burns that had run the lengths of her front legs were gone, fuzzy new hairs already beginning to regrow through the creamy skin. No harm done, so no grudge held.
@[Castile]
He has not stepped quite inside, a smart move on his part. Their last meeting was not friendly. However, it was a divinely sanctioned battle, with no personal element. Truly, she can't hold it against him. Gods know she did her best to damage him in turn. But something is bothering him, his face tells her this immediately. Not even giving her time to address him, he launches into his apology. It all comes spilling out, and she can't help but feel a twinge of pity for him. She had frequently felt at war with herself, but his battle seemed much more literal.
"Well, Castile, I am Sabra of Sylva. I'm glad to meet you in better circumstances. I accept your apology, although it wasn't necessary. Everyone participating in the alliance knows what they're getting into. And you know full well I did my best to make you work for victory. Truly, Sylva would be fortunate to have a warrior of your caliber among our own ranks."
She smile at him calmly, deeply grateful that her injuries had been healed after the match. The torn shoulder muscles were as good as new, and the burns that had run the lengths of her front legs were gone, fuzzy new hairs already beginning to regrow through the creamy skin. No harm done, so no grudge held.
@[Castile]