Let us ride the winds, to new heights
This was the last time.
There were many quirks that Surreal had to clench her teeth through, mostly due to the payment that came with forced tolerance to what would otherwise deserve a knife to the gut. For some, habits could be cute. Especially for the younger men. Puppy Love was meant to be known as a phase of infatuation, to pass as the victim of such a condition passed away from their target, and were wiser for it.
Tucking the corner of the towel so that it stayed wrapped around her body, the otherwise soaked woman grasped a handful of fur above the wolf's shoulder blades. Dragging him along the tile floor, the sounds out the nails scraping against the surface, a final motion was made to guide the wolf out. With the male on the other side of the doorway, soaked and spreading it to the carpet of Surreal's bedroom, eyes stared up at the woman pitifully. One of those expressions of children trying to figure out what they have been doing wrong. As a soft whine came from the wolf's mouth, Surreal snapped back with her own words. "Don't give me that. You want to find out how I'm doing, you ask. You do not stick your nose up someone's crotch while they're showering. Do it again, and you won't have anything to stick near a crotch again. Got it?"
Well, that worked, as indicated by the ears flicking back and tail tucking between the hind legs. Watching as Graysfang defeatingly left, passing through the closed door, the woman hooked some of the wet black hair behind a pointed ear. "Mother Night, you'd think he would learn by this point," she muttered to herself before heading back to the shower stall. It wouldn't be long before Lucivar's morning exercises started, and the last thing one needed was to be dunked in the fountain because a wolf sticking his nose where it didn't belong, literally, had been the cause of delay.
It would, however, solve the issue of having to finish the shower.
A couple of hours later, after breakfast, Surreal was sheating a stiletto in the specially crafted boots, which were received on the last Winsol. It took some convincing with the boyos to actually let go, having wanted her in the safety of the Keep while Rainier was out of the territory during that most vulnerable time for a witch. Now, however, those days had passed, and there was only so much that a former assassin could handle from those that were taken on as family. It was fine to use Craft again, and no reason to be held hostage any longer.
Vanishing away the personal kit, and the clothes that served as a change of clothes for any unexpected trips away from her wardrobe, Surreal quickly made her way out of the room and towards the exit of the large structure. Until, on the way through one of the halls, the sight of a young woman with blonde hair trimmed short and an angular face, with a jewel hanging above her breast that didn't seem to stay one color, paused the half Dea al Mon in her tracks. The haunted look in those sapphire eyes meant there was a serious message. Carefully, she went up to meet with Jaenelle. "Had enough coffee, I take it. I'm heading back before the boyos try to keep me here for another day."
The haunted look didn't go away completely, but they changed to one of warning as Daemon's wife had locked eyes and spoke softly. "The winds will be unstable. You'll want to shield yourself before grabbing on to them, just in case."
"I'll be sure to do that, then."
Saying their farewells, Surreal made her way out to the nearest landing point. Before grabbing on to the Grey winds, a shield that was crafted against her body, and skin, was brought up with enough thought to leave holes for eating and personal needs. Jaenelle wouldn't give a warning without reason, which meant she had seen something in the webs. To not listen, even if she was fine in the end, would deserve a beating from both Daemon and Lucivar for the next few days.
The winds were stable, at first, and nothing out of the ordinary. However, it wasn't until there weren't any immediate landing points that a sudden storm slammed against Surreal's Grey shields. Holding on, the tremors only grew stronger, and started to feel like the webs were about to shatter completely. Which left little choice, if there was going to be some semblance of safety.
Jumping down from where she was, and hoped everything went alright.
Taking to a tuck and rolling action in that point when one left the Winds completely and met with ground, a heavy drain was felt to the Grey jewel hanging around Surreals neck. Enough that the Green had to be brought out with a replacement shield as the dark haired woman stayed crouched down on the ground to catch her breath. The air, it smelled dirty, and heavier than what it should be. Almost like those cities, but exponentially worse from, even, Terreille cities. Then, after a wind passed by, a particular scent of cookies and brownies seemed to be coming from the ground itself.
Finally forcing herself to take in the air without too much fighting, Surreal forced herself up to her feet while hooking some hair behind a delicately pointed ear. A park, much like the ones in Chaillot's cities. Not as dead as the ones in Hayll, but you could still see the influence of the city. Which was structured in a way that held no resemblance with any of the realms she was familiar with. "Mother Darkness, where the hell am I?"
Alarmed, but luckily it seemed that Surreal was keeping her head where it belonged.
((OOC: The prologue is just flavour text. Nothing important that needs to actually be read. Just felt like writing that bit, honestly...))
There were many quirks that Surreal had to clench her teeth through, mostly due to the payment that came with forced tolerance to what would otherwise deserve a knife to the gut. For some, habits could be cute. Especially for the younger men. Puppy Love was meant to be known as a phase of infatuation, to pass as the victim of such a condition passed away from their target, and were wiser for it.
Tucking the corner of the towel so that it stayed wrapped around her body, the otherwise soaked woman grasped a handful of fur above the wolf's shoulder blades. Dragging him along the tile floor, the sounds out the nails scraping against the surface, a final motion was made to guide the wolf out. With the male on the other side of the doorway, soaked and spreading it to the carpet of Surreal's bedroom, eyes stared up at the woman pitifully. One of those expressions of children trying to figure out what they have been doing wrong. As a soft whine came from the wolf's mouth, Surreal snapped back with her own words. "Don't give me that. You want to find out how I'm doing, you ask. You do not stick your nose up someone's crotch while they're showering. Do it again, and you won't have anything to stick near a crotch again. Got it?"
Well, that worked, as indicated by the ears flicking back and tail tucking between the hind legs. Watching as Graysfang defeatingly left, passing through the closed door, the woman hooked some of the wet black hair behind a pointed ear. "Mother Night, you'd think he would learn by this point," she muttered to herself before heading back to the shower stall. It wouldn't be long before Lucivar's morning exercises started, and the last thing one needed was to be dunked in the fountain because a wolf sticking his nose where it didn't belong, literally, had been the cause of delay.
It would, however, solve the issue of having to finish the shower.
A couple of hours later, after breakfast, Surreal was sheating a stiletto in the specially crafted boots, which were received on the last Winsol. It took some convincing with the boyos to actually let go, having wanted her in the safety of the Keep while Rainier was out of the territory during that most vulnerable time for a witch. Now, however, those days had passed, and there was only so much that a former assassin could handle from those that were taken on as family. It was fine to use Craft again, and no reason to be held hostage any longer.
Vanishing away the personal kit, and the clothes that served as a change of clothes for any unexpected trips away from her wardrobe, Surreal quickly made her way out of the room and towards the exit of the large structure. Until, on the way through one of the halls, the sight of a young woman with blonde hair trimmed short and an angular face, with a jewel hanging above her breast that didn't seem to stay one color, paused the half Dea al Mon in her tracks. The haunted look in those sapphire eyes meant there was a serious message. Carefully, she went up to meet with Jaenelle. "Had enough coffee, I take it. I'm heading back before the boyos try to keep me here for another day."
The haunted look didn't go away completely, but they changed to one of warning as Daemon's wife had locked eyes and spoke softly. "The winds will be unstable. You'll want to shield yourself before grabbing on to them, just in case."
"I'll be sure to do that, then."
Saying their farewells, Surreal made her way out to the nearest landing point. Before grabbing on to the Grey winds, a shield that was crafted against her body, and skin, was brought up with enough thought to leave holes for eating and personal needs. Jaenelle wouldn't give a warning without reason, which meant she had seen something in the webs. To not listen, even if she was fine in the end, would deserve a beating from both Daemon and Lucivar for the next few days.
The winds were stable, at first, and nothing out of the ordinary. However, it wasn't until there weren't any immediate landing points that a sudden storm slammed against Surreal's Grey shields. Holding on, the tremors only grew stronger, and started to feel like the webs were about to shatter completely. Which left little choice, if there was going to be some semblance of safety.
Jumping down from where she was, and hoped everything went alright.
Taking to a tuck and rolling action in that point when one left the Winds completely and met with ground, a heavy drain was felt to the Grey jewel hanging around Surreals neck. Enough that the Green had to be brought out with a replacement shield as the dark haired woman stayed crouched down on the ground to catch her breath. The air, it smelled dirty, and heavier than what it should be. Almost like those cities, but exponentially worse from, even, Terreille cities. Then, after a wind passed by, a particular scent of cookies and brownies seemed to be coming from the ground itself.
Finally forcing herself to take in the air without too much fighting, Surreal forced herself up to her feet while hooking some hair behind a delicately pointed ear. A park, much like the ones in Chaillot's cities. Not as dead as the ones in Hayll, but you could still see the influence of the city. Which was structured in a way that held no resemblance with any of the realms she was familiar with. "Mother Darkness, where the hell am I?"
Alarmed, but luckily it seemed that Surreal was keeping her head where it belonged.
((OOC: The prologue is just flavour text. Nothing important that needs to actually be read. Just felt like writing that bit, honestly...))