girl talk

The forest is wet and quiet, the fingers of the ferns crusted in ice. Her breath is visible, shining a gentle white beneath the shine of the moon. It's nearing midnight and Leera's bored of her bedrest and she's itching to speak with her closest link in Erövrare. The last time she'd seen the bronzed goddess was when Hannibal had brought her to these southern lands, but of course there had been no room for gossip. There's more than a lot to discuss, and she stops between the trees to tilt back her head, calling gently to Nephthys, wherever she might be.

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