[hr][center][sub][color=cecece]DAY 1[/color] [color=ea3333]《》[/color] [color=cecece]STEELWATER [Forest - Creek][/color] [color=ea3333]《》[/color] [color=cecece]Late Morning[/color] [color=ea3333]《》[/color] [@Rockette][@DeadDrop][/sub][/center][hr][table][row][/row][row][cell][url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5383358][img]https://i.imgur.com/51UC8Yg.jpg[/img][/url][color=2e2c2c]▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇[/color][/cell][cell][quote]

[color=8d8e8f]	Scylla is busily assessing her injuries when he approaches, thankful, genuine, his compliment awash in the lamplight of that lingering hellfire. She's never seen such conflagration bidden inside a man before and in her piercing glare she tacks the flutter of her lashes down and back up in slow increments of feminine appraisal. Lips purse over teeth, tongue flush against the bone as she sucks against their bite and says:

	[color=cf9792]"Yeah..."[/color] She drawls, blouse thrust up high above her navel, fingers delicately circling the bruise embossed to ivory skin. [color=cf9792]"I guess I should be thanking you, though."[/color] Scylla's eyes dart to their flank, somewhere she assumes Aaron is lingering. [color=cf9792]"I was seconds away from becoming a [i]snack[/i]."[/color] Her other wounds have long begun to heal, her spirits coolly gliding over her arms decorated in shallow crescents and perpendicular lines. They were not healing apparitions, but rather they could soothe and seduce as the waves often bid against the shores. Carefully Scylla bent knee to the creek wherein the waters began to return, she dipped her fingers and curled against the calm surface before raking her gestures through her silver hair to assemble her braid into normalcy. She made a face at the lingering detritus of their felled beast, for even as a woman of WarDiv, she was a creature of vanity. 

There was a lingering affect of calm that poured through her bones, willed her movements to be almost slumberous and lax compared to their earlier urgency. She recognized it as the adrenaline sweeping away from her limbs but what remnants of their engagement fell short in light of the fires that still consumed the heavens. Arachnid gestures fell to her throat, nails pricked against the scars there and pressed to the comms:

	[color=cf9792]"I don't believe that's the last of our little tree and insect friends,"[/color] as where one dominant creature loomed and fell, so were there many more to claim the mantle. [color=cf9792]"But,"[/color] Scylla rises to her feet, scuffing her boots against the pebbles of the creek, the waters playful against her heels as she disengaged her communication with the rest. [color=cf9792]"Let's go, [i]Flyboy.[/i] Try not to nearly take me out next time, yeah. 'Least buy me dinner first."[/color]  
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