“ incorrigible, ” she says it in undercommon as a curse, flicking blood from her blade, heedless of the way it splatters against the still warm body at her feet, before wiping the clinging excess against her leathers. though most of the blood belongs to the would-be assailant, ereliara does feel the telltale sear of sliced skin where they tried to slit her throat, a messy line from the side of her neck to her clavicle. sloppy work. rolling her shoulder only makes the pain flare, sparks flying from a restless fire, but she ignores the heat of her own blood trickling down her chest to look up at her insufferably persistent companion.
an elegant brow raises, almost a challenge, and she tilts her chin to bare more of her marred flesh to @scionth; a rare display of a wolf baring throat to another, yet more a test than a true act of submission. “ well? what are you waiting for? ”