She picks at a tangle in her tail with her teeth, letting the silence of the chill fall all around her like a sort of comfort. Even the constant crashing of water seems softer now, as if it is mourning as well, freefall slow and muted by what Leera knows is the cold but hopes is empathy.
Combing through the silky locks of creamy fur, she lets her eyes roll back into her head as she closes her lids in thought. Winter is here, and it's common knowledge that empires built during the whitefall season are seldom long standing. She'll have to wait for the spring blooms to return to do any real recruiting. WIth this thought, she lashes her tail grudgingly, but she knows this will be the best route. "Nephthys," she says, pausing when she catches the familiar scent on the air. Pink eyes slide open and she tilts her head, peering through the frosted ferns.
It's true that Leera tolerates the company of the so-called goddess. Although, it's admittedly. But now, in these too-familiar, too-quiet falls, she's probably more accepting of her company than she'll ever be. Perhaps some silvertongued banter will take her mind off a certain pair of murdered boys. "Miss me already, flower? Come sit." The early evening starlight glints off the tip of her fang as she offers a smirk.
speech action
Leera is a mature character.
Force/violence is permitted within reason.
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