Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-26288702-20180310221203/@comment-28358106-20180408235338

"Bled dry? Bled dry??"

The language that shows such a casual disregard for life quickly gets under Tirush's skin. She's had enough of this gloomy, dying world, its violence, its creatures. The parlance of this world revolves around darkness and despair, and she loathes every aspect of it. She leers at Armata.

"Listen to my words! I am the last of my kind, and I have no equal, pale one.  Let them try!  My veins run with the old blood, and they would find in it nothing but agony.  Ignoance of their ways!  Hi'drëh mid'nindøk! Let them try, and let them know then that I have my own ways.  If you think me their equal from what you have seen of me, then watch well, for something greater than your precious Not-Seen stands before you."

Her mantle is raised, her poise listless. Her tail swishes to the point of thrashing as she shifts her feet.

"Let us go! We have stayed here for too long.  We have what we need.  Let us go!"