“...”
Pallid digits tightly clench into fists against her chest as the sniper warily glances towards the small pegasus knight, remaining silent as the other parades around, causing a ruckus about the camp in the dead of night. Lips pursing into a taut line, she can’t help but watch the other for a while, with her straightened posture as she marched the perimeter of the camp, and the determined glint embedded within pools of grey with her flying companion in tow. She looked ready for anything- perhaps a bit too ready. Like she definitely wanted something to appear, so that she could “slay” the beast and be a “true hero.”
“... Cynthia?” she timidly calls out, shrinking back slightly with an “eep!” when the knight’s head snaps in her direction with a fiery passion to her eyes. Alright, perhaps a “little” wasn’t exactly correct. Perhaps “absolutely and incredibly ready” was the more correct way to put it. Though she shouldn’t have been so surprised. This was indeed Cynthia that she was dealing with. Cynthia was always known to be the action-ready, rambunctious, and clumsy girl of the new arrivals to the Shepherds. Grown up being told stories of her family, she had always strived to become the strong woman her mother was depicted as. Gods, the girl practically worshiped the ground her mother walked on...
“E-erm...! What are you doing...? You’re, um... disturbing everyone’s sleep. I can hear the soldiers complaining...”
