BREEZEBLOCK
06-12-2013, 03:08 PM
It was cold, but Medusa didn?t entirely mind. The siren was used to all sorts of conditions, from deserts to tundras and everywhere in between. She was adaptable, capable of making what she could out of any situation. Long limbs carried her into woodlands, where the biting winds were broken by the interference of the vegetation. Shaking out her pelt, the midnight-colored woman looked up at the sky. It was growing late, and she would need to find shelter soon. Ludicael was not likely within distance; she?d have to travel too far before nightfall. Reluctantly and numbly she searched, bi-colored eyes focused upon her surroundings. She paid little mind to anything else in the forest, aside from what was in front of her. Even after her assault the harlot was not the sort to walk as if she were on eggshells; she feared little in this world, There was a hollowed out tree nearby, and she moved towards it, peering inside as she searched for signs of habitation. "Hello?" she called out, joking to herself. How cheesy would it be if somebody were to answer her. The den wasn?t the most glamorous or comfortable looking, but the wicked woman supposed that it would do. |