Arsynia,
Lioness of Prideless
Played by dusk

arsynia tollaire.

He seemed to strain against the haze of the rain, and as he neared, Arsynia tensed; but she made no move, realizing perhaps he was indeed just trying to see her better through the downpour. I ain't lookin' t' steal yer haven, if that's what ya' think. His accent was strange, boyish, and melded into the rain as if it belonged there. Arsynia relaxed, but could not help but wonder what had compelled the man so close. Certainly, he must have just been passing by—the smell of the rain was so thick in her nose even she could not smell herself. The familiar waft of fire and iron was quelled by the storm, and would certainly be more unpleasant later should Arsynia not remain dry. This man, on the other hand, seemed far less eager to duck under the nearest cover.

I think i'd have a better time waitin' out the rain out in the open at this rate, he responded, as if content to revel in the cold of the tempest if only because he was already soaked thoroughly through. Arsynia's nose twitched, but she did not contest the man's strange desires. There was never a worse feeling to her than being bared down upon by the rain. What a time t' take a walk, am i right? His tone lightened, enough to entice the Wolf from her den; she emerged now halfway into the rain, though the thick winding of canopy and gnarled branches above offered enough cover so that only a few droplets slicked the damp furs of her face back against her cheek. “If you're looking to catch a cold,” she retorted, though her tone was not unkind, “it's not much, but the tree cover here could lessen the brunt of it.” Neither lion would be completely dry, but at least it was enough to let them hear each other above the thunder of the rain, and see past beyond their paws as the incoming wet season willed away the heat of the summer and plunged the forest in a hazy mist.

@Lucien
Art by defineDead