#frenzie

Grunts of pain and struggle seem to echo in the wilderness, because some birds started to fly away as soon as they heard the feline yelp in pain. A beartrap, of all things to get stuck into - with a potential bear nearby. Zeza muffled a sob as she tried to open the jaws, but failed miserably and ended up cutting her clawed hand along the way. Footsteps that sounded heavy and clanky approached, causing the feline to struggle some more out of fear it might very well be that hunter, and potentially mistaken her for the beast. ❝Nonono! Stay back! I'm no beast!❞ She cries out, shrinking slightly in fear of the armored man that made his appearance. Her tail curled slightly, fur standing up. Gods, what an embarrassing way to be found. At least she is being found now than when she's bled out, in truth.

↪ 𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐘 𝐌𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘 ( accepting! )

Roleplay  wise?  Lack  of  communication  has  caused  issues  for  me  in  the  past,  but  more  recently  hypocrisy  has  reared  its  head.

For  example,  if  you  state  in  your  rules  you  don't  interact  with  people  who  write  " xyz ",  then  why  are  you  interacting  with  someone  who  does?  It's  very  much  a  " rules  for  thee  not  for  me "  situation,  like  a  slap  in  the  face  to  everyone  else  you  interact  with.

" There are moments when you feel like you become one with the sea. " (@frenzie) Rúna said, the curious spirit. Maleficent giggled without humor at the remark, still watchful of the vast blue.

Knowledge that Daphne is sure may be more useful to else at the Hold than her, but knowledge she'd have him share with her regardless some other time. It isn't so much that she dismisses Thiollier's politeness as she does mean to reassure and placate. It, of course, is presented with a bit more bite than intended, but such was the doll's nature.

       ❝ Kindness should not be done with expectation.   - Quit fretting. ❞   Another slow, gentle glide of the comb and the Revenant does all she can not to pull through the nots, to use nimble and delicate fingers to pluck out what debris prevents smooth passing. She would not be satisfied with only the bare minimum. Silken locks would be restored, even to their fluffy and perfect braids, no matter how long it would take her. It was the least that could be done on her part for his kindness, weightless as he might think it to be. It would always remain important to her. It would remain something for her to repay despite the sentiment she'd just implored upon Thiollier. Still...  it reminds her in her hypocrisy to, at least, offer some forgiveness.

       ❝ You may brush mine in turn if you feel so inclined. ❞   Another pull, soft but insistent, and she believes she's achieved the cleanliness desired. One, two more passes and the comb slips through silken locks like a breeze. Daphne would smile if her painted lips would allow. For now, the warmth to her voice would have to suffice.   ❝ Just a little more... Then I could braid them together again... ❞   As though making the declaration to them both. Daphne does not rush the rest of her movements. If anything, she is finding peace in the slow method. Rhythm in the long, relished sweeps of the comb. A reminder of some distant memory. A remembrance that brings a fondness to her hollow chest.

In no time at all, she's finished. At least with the brushing. She reaches then to offer the comb to Thiollier, motioning for one of the hair ties instead.

       ❝ If you still feel unclean, we can bathe. ❞   Deft hands work apart their hair in sections, taking her time to smooth them out as she begins weaving them into braids.   ❝ I do not mind doing your hair again, either. It'll be easier to clean anyhow, now that I've combed it. ❞

the past few days of travel had seemed longer than usual by undeniable measure, and lazare has had little to show for it beyond a gnawing hunger in the pit of his stomach and a weariness too obvious for his liking. occupied dwellings had been far and few between, with nothing of use to be found in those abandoned or populated by the dead. the only game to be found was small, while no fish bit at waterways that turned out only to be good for baths and the refilling of waterskins. none of the camps he had encountered had been willing to let a witcher sit at their fire; lazare had hardly seen the use in employing axii to change their minds. his food stores have slowly dwindled.

though, as he has often found, small snatches of respite can come in the most unexpected of times.

lazare draws zephyr to a slow stop as he stares hard at the stranger that had beckoned to him. he had been guiding his mare by a lead rope for at least a league now, intended to give her a break in their monotonous travel. the stranger sits at a tidy camp struck in the shade of a copse of trees, and from her the witcher sense no malice or ill-intent. he had meant to walk past, wary of another denial, but the welcome had presented itself.

slowly, not cautious but measured, lazare makes for the stranger and her camp, zephyr snorting softly behind them as they move into the soft grass and off the old road they had been on.