[hr][hr][center][h1][/h1] [img]https://images-ext-1.discordapp.net/external/rJcM6MFwDjwmkfpDSNW78NyqoAWsGk19D-c8CJE-_Ys/https/i.postimg.cc/SNfNnRKj/image.png?width=285&height=286[/img][hr] [color=9e005d][b]Location:[/b][/color] Camp Half-Blood Barrier -> Apollo Cabin [color=9e005d][b]Skills: [/b][/color][/center][hr][hr] As Leandra was helped along by the guiding hand of her legionnaire companion, she opened her mouth, preparing to make some lighthearted banter with the ginger Greek girl when instead the young woman began to chew her out. Leandra raised an eyebrow, her lips dipping into a small frown. She'd not meant for Marygold to hear that exchange, hence why she lowered her voice, but it seemed that the girl had somehow overheard. Perhaps her eardrums had not yet shifted back into that of a humans, and her hearing had still been that of an apex predator. Leandra was usually quite good at making people like her, it was her defining talent. But it at times seemed as though there were those cosmically destined to bear their teeth at her. [color=9e005d]"Isley, darling, I did not mean to offend, but a battle is about more than who does the most damage. Yes, you may have dealt out more wounds than anyone on the battlefield, but you also would've received gods know how many more were it not for the intervention of young Stella. Offense is the base of every battle, but without supportive combatants, that's often all it is: a base. Forgive me for wanting to introduce your new warrior to that concept early,"[/color] Leandra replied, her tone soft and pleasant, if a bit matter-of-factly. She ignored the personal jabs at her; she'd dealt with worse. Though it did seem a bit odd for Marygold to be attacking her personal performance when that hadn't at all been touched on in her interaction with Stella. Leandra let Marygold enter the cabin first, before following in after her and taking the first seat she could find. She slipped the neck of her shirt down her shoulder a bit to give Alexandra a better look at the wound she was working with, unobscured by the bright orange of the t-shirt. When Phelps spoke, Leandra let out a small, weak laugh. [color=9e005d]"Oh sweetheart, it's sweet that you think I could handle myself in a fistfight with this one-woman jungle."[/color]