irish coffee

Torrent lay watching the sheep - or rather, watching the landscape beyond them. She was there as a flock guardian, not a herder, and had no interest in whatever the sheep themselves were doing, just watching for any potential predators - wolves included - who might be looking to take a bite out of the herd. Talon was due at any minute to relieve her of the duty, thank fuck, and since he actually enjoyed the duty he'd probably - yes, there he was, early. She certainly wasn't going to argue, and swiftly rose to make her exit to find someplace to soak up the sun that didn't smell like sheep. As always, Asriel fell into step beside her somewhere halfway across the range. The snow leopard was even less fond of sheep than she was, and unlike her he didn't have to take sheep duty and so, didn't. The roof of a still-sturdy shed provided a good sunning spot, and Pidge joined them there a short time later, the fat raccoon muttering as she waddled up to the shed and scaled it. Torrent ignored her. Even basking, her gaze moved restlessly across the range, particularly towards the border where trouble would be most likely to come from. She felt... twitchy, restless, wanting to leave the pack lands and find trouble. Go raid someone's chicken house, go start a riot, start a war, she didn't care but she was sure Tyrion would and so she was holding herself back, burying the itchy neediness beneath layers of cool elegance not even marred a bit by the scars on her face.