Vadar is certainly a sickly thing when Jude runs into him again. Sores cover his body, fever coats his eyes - he is almost unrecognizable. The pegasus quickly clears the gentility from her gaze and rakes him with an analytical stare. Is it truly Vadar? The way he speaks to her tells her otherwise.
A wary wave washes over her, even if the plague covers all of Beqanna now. Almost no symptoms show up on Jude, a funny quality that quite matches her personality. She wonders if being around one so ill can further her own sickness. The mare takes a few hesitant steps forward, peering with that same analytical stare. Her lips purse, not seeing him fit for a response just yet.
If it is her friend, she wants to help him. If it is one that looks a lot like him in their plague, she wants to turn tail and run. This is not exactly the best meeting for her first time out of Tephra in so long.
“. . . I was here first.” Jude cocks a brow, rears her head, and snorts in indignation. The cold glaze over her is eyes is just a film to protect her vulnerability. The white line on his face rises, a line she finally notices, and she realizes it is in fact the man she still thinks about on occasion. First offense passes over her face, then hurt, then irritation. He is acting as if they have never met, an insult the pegasus is not used to in the slightest.
Water splashes and glimmers upon her legs when she stomps through the water to face Vadar. She is just a notch below seething.
“I thought we hit it off pretty well, Vadar,” she snaps, southern lilt cutting in that way only that accent can be. “Guess not.” The last syllable is final. A little hmpf follows, high pitched and agitated. “You look like shit,” is an afterthought, one she instantly regrets. Her anxiety about being out of Tephra is clouding her judgement. She has a slick tongue but it is kinder on those she likes.
She huffs. “I’m sorry. Do you really not remember me? Do I need to be shimmyin’ in some snow melt like the last time we met?”
@[Vadar]