"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
Mazikeen is, vaguely, aware that Sabal is joking about bringing the monsters to Hyaline but the comment bites at her pride enough that there’s no humour in her cold voice when she snaps back, canines gleaming in the low-light. “As if I would ever do that Sabal.” It really was a shame that Mazikeen couldn’t full-name her friend right back. And yet she draws it out anyway, furious at even the moderate implication that she would put their home at risk.
The hair along her spine stands up in her irritation as her tail flicks in the water. “I would’ve killed them long before we crossed the border like I did the other two I’ve met.”
Her orange eyes burn for a second longer but it fades with a few calming breaths. She continues talking then with noticeably less edge. She’d fight Sabal if she had to - and it is a tempting way to release some tension - but she doesn’t necessarily want to. At the moment, anyway. It could all hinge on how the salamander replies.
“As much as I would absolutely love to watch you give one a swimming lesson.”