Inky sinews of Sylvan detail betrothed ancient papyrus, hopeful to preserve the geography wrought by Wick's illusion. Whilst scribing and etching compass and panorama into the last pages of her master’s repossessed journal, she concordantly nodded with the monk’s suggestion, but did not affirm with the feline's following smegmatic embrace, the norm of Katia's deviations. 

[color=ec008c]"Agreed, beloved."[/color] The cleric frowned and quickly shrugged the hug off.[color=ec008c] "It’s too calm. The virgin sky is either a mistress of charms or an adulterer of tribulation. Our feet must tred, with haste, ‘ere we look upon the seductive corner of the moon, and spectate the affairs with which this world beguiles us. It seems our pirate is already weathered. Once you've finished flirting with the sun, collect the others. We must embark. Soon.”[/color]

Disgusted with the resultant sticky situation, but nonetheless gratified that the Tabaxi and the tome owned enough intel on their serene environment, she clumsily loaded her waterskin from a fresh outlet of a nearby fjord, simultaneously promoting a separating distance between her and the unclothed Cesar. However, the warlock herself did not chance bathing, as her fellow prankster menaced around. She silently lusted after cleanliness from the sap that now slowly slithered and caked into crevices unknown, as her magical arsenal was without prestidigitation, the cantrip needed to unsoil the now congealed layers upon her garb and breastplate. 

[i]Maybe Haemer could provide assistance?[/i]

Sighing exhaustively and averting avian eyes from the exposed bard, the cleric then hiked gingerly towards the inlet of the naked Vale, filthily awaiting their troupe’s recuperation, while bating the provoked temptations which oddly kindled within her celibate Aasimar frame.

[@The Harbinger of Ferocity][@JBRam2002][@Cu Chulainn][@Big Dread]