[It might be a big place, but they could also... "teleport" all over it. And if she'd learned anything so far about being a so-called aion... It was that they seemed to be called to the same places. Or rather, something would call them, or the Regent would announce his intentions. If such things continued... she had no doubt they'd be in proximity again.
The glow around him fades. Did that mean he no longer moved at the speeds he had befoe? As tempted as she is to test it...
Hayame finally releases the string of her bow... after she releases the tension. Her arrow goes back into her quiver. In this backalley part of the city, the canal that separated them was no more than ten feet wide, and rather than leave him the leeway to flee by walking to the nearest bridge... she backs up as far as she can until her rump hits the back of the business buttressing up against the waterside path, exhales...
And makes a surprisingly graceful running leap, her fetlock-length mane and tail streaming out behind her like ebony banners. She lands heavily but safely in a clatter of hooves on her enemy's side of the canal, and from there whips back around to face him. He is... objectively, she thinks he is probably supposed to be attractive. He is well-built, physically, he looked strong enough for a human, but he's so... pale...]
Put your damn clothes back on.
[She snaps her request (demand) as she also snatches the undershirt from his hand, somehow effortlessly managing to avoid even a single brush of their fingers in the process.
But she doesn't avoid looking him straight in the eyes as she lifts the undershirt to her face and inhales almost... aggressively, not bothering to hide the way her lips twist into a look of disgust over the overtly masculine smell in her nose as she memorizes his scent. Sweat, some citrus tang, the smell of Venera, cedar, a mossy something she can't quite identify, a strangely fresh hint of water, and man.]
no subject
The glow around him fades. Did that mean he no longer moved at the speeds he had befoe? As tempted as she is to test it...
Hayame finally releases the string of her bow... after she releases the tension. Her arrow goes back into her quiver. In this backalley part of the city, the canal that separated them was no more than ten feet wide, and rather than leave him the leeway to flee by walking to the nearest bridge... she backs up as far as she can until her rump hits the back of the business buttressing up against the waterside path, exhales...
And makes a surprisingly graceful running leap, her fetlock-length mane and tail streaming out behind her like ebony banners. She lands heavily but safely in a clatter of hooves on her enemy's side of the canal, and from there whips back around to face him. He is... objectively, she thinks he is probably supposed to be attractive. He is well-built, physically, he looked strong enough for a human, but he's so... pale...]
Put your damn clothes back on.
[She snaps her request (demand) as she also snatches the undershirt from his hand, somehow effortlessly managing to avoid even a single brush of their fingers in the process.
But she doesn't avoid looking him straight in the eyes as she lifts the undershirt to her face and inhales almost... aggressively, not bothering to hide the way her lips twist into a look of disgust over the overtly masculine smell in her nose as she memorizes his scent. Sweat, some citrus tang, the smell of Venera, cedar, a mossy something she can't quite identify, a strangely fresh hint of water, and man.]