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“A beast? I’m a beast now?”

Kicks a rock. It’s better to not think too much about it, but this is probably Hadyn’s fault.

entwined.

“Pretty poor quality,” Milae murmured under her breath. Having plucked a flower from a nearby bush, the woman turned her wrist and squinted. Woe was the wilted flora as its petals were wimpily downward, along with its leaves. “The grazing here is hurting you, isn’t it?” A small frown fell on her face as she lifted her wrist closer to her chest.

Around her arm, the wilted flower’s roots slowly spread over and wrapped around her limb, affirming its hold. “I wonder what can be done--” Through her introspection, and genuine unawareness, it seemed that was an observer in her presence who had spotted the unusual display of either an over-affectionate flower or an expert parasite that had taken the form of flora.

It was just then when Milae looked up that she found someone staring. In a forced gulp, she glances to and fro between her arm and the stranger. Maybe she should ask if they’re lost and need to find the next town? Maybe she can lie that she’s an Asparagus Phoenix or a Natural dragon -- wait, those weren’t the names! How could she even lie about being a descendant of sorts if she didn’t know their names?! Oh, well, maybe she could have explained this to be a simple magician’s illusion and all they’re seeing was a facade...? Maybe one of those “you don’t see me right now, I am only a figment,” mind tricks would’ve worked! ...Or, those mind tricks only worked in those movies her mother did so enjoy...

Amidst the impending anxiety streak from her internal working, the flora remained to latch still with its roots having grown thicker and greener. Alas, it had already absorbed the plentiful energy from the human and shortly, several more flowers began budding and blossoming from the original flower’s stem and roots trail.

Drinking in the new image around her arm, the human relieved herself with a sigh and went with a question of the top of her head,

“Would you like a flower--?”

#glopen #( thread ) entwined

“ ...God, I hate dragons. ”

Entering any of the thirteen territories of the “pure” dragon clans, is apparently unacceptable. Either you pledge your allegiance or fight your way in. Hadyn isn’t fancying either option; especially since all the dragon leaders seem like uppity-yupees.

Hadyn spits outside the border of the Fulmenae territory and starts stomping off in a huff-- ...until he realizes that someone just saw him defiling the border... Hadyn scrunches up his nose and puts his hands on his hips.

“ ...What’re you lookin’ at? ”

#glopen #{ disrespecting dragon clan territories is a big nono }

a most merry of fights.

Perhaps being camped with a inn full of dastardly men and women, regardless of species, was far too overwhelming for the brimming thoughts of isolation Milae had adapted to. After storming a ruckus from the inn, leaving through a window without second thought, the human could’ve been found wandering in the depths of the forest.

To much of the finder’s surprise, a mistletoe could be found caught in her hands-- her long, long claws, to be precise. With her back turned towards the stranger, Milae was picking at a small bed of weeds with the tips of her claws, slowly digging into the ground. Much to her displeasure, she couldn’t find where she last stashed some preserved flesh. As she turned around, a heavy red-eyed scold was gifted to her finder.

While her eyes were targeting the stranger, her other hand kept in aimless picking at the mistletoe around her claws.

#( thread ) a most merry of fights #glopen #gl mistlefloe #[ didnt see a tag specified so improvised !#[ and this low pissed off ragnarok mil -- ]#[ a (small) fight can occur ~~ ]

blossomer.

To the extent of how she may aid another was always following the code of staying with a hand reach’s distance. Nonchalantly were the tasks of kindness were handled, but, it was critical of her to introspectively assert distance. Much to her surprise in the late morrow, as she minded her own thoughts, her grey eyes roamed to find a tattered and folded note on the dirt road. Glancing to and fro, stopping in place, the only figure she could’ve tagged as the owner was the body who was a bit further off from her--

In quick succession, the woman plucked the note between her index and middle finger and made a jog towards the stranger The girl attempted in raising her voice and, still, kept away for a matter of respecting “bubbles,” even if that may not be a concept in the continent at all. Truthfully, Milae should be considering the consequence of being a human freely approaching others. Goodness, the mess that could’ve been made if she didn’t realize who it was..