Signs of Life

It had been a long night for the little minx that was Scylla. She'd been off gallivanting and her body was sore, but in the best way. When Avacyn's voice cut through the blessed silence, Scylla had been curled up in a thick nest of furs, her small frame almost disappearing down into the depths of the plush skins. A grumble sounded before a dark grey eye opened. Perfect fucking timing, Ava... Was she plagued to forever be inconvenienced by the Mendacium woman?

Scylla, slightly hungover, shambled to the meeting place. There were still flecks of blood sticking to her cream and blue coat, but she didn't care. If the pack wasn't used to this by now, they never would be. Scylla leaned heavily against Albions side then dropped down in front of his big paws, using one as a pillow. The world swam a bit, but she was able to keep one eye open to watch Avacyn talk.

"Scylla"