She smiled faintly in the face of death, baring no ill will against the woman that only moments before tried to kill her unknowingly. The Nomad blamed it on reflex, further defending the act that she would have done the same had she been that enthralled in her practice. Or at least that was what was uttered in thought in an attempt to calm her startled mind. Yet her companion was not easy swayed to be calm when death smiled to them both. His talons sank deeper into his perched, again tearing through the delicate flesh beneath fur to run red. The astringent aroma wrinkled the Nomad’s nose, forcing a scowl upon her face as she looked to her guide. “Please stop,” she muttered to him, again rounding her shoulder to bid him off her. This time he was more willing to comply having spanned his great wings and took flight to hover above his master. X’yrin returned her gaze to the other with an apologetic smile.
The gesture toward the woman’s camp should have taken her more by surprise, but rather than show her reluctance in a guise of fear, her smile broadened and she nodded receptively. “It is the least I can do,” she agreed cordially, taking a bold step toward the center ring. Her involvement sealed by her cooperation.
The Nomad knew the face of hostility when it reared itself. All it took was a sliver of that truth to come to light and no disguise could ever conceal it from her eyes again. The Exultare were advised to avoid such bringers of death and doom, but with all their skill and practice, it was inevitable they would face the like in their lifetime. It was part of their role as warriors to anticipate this and be prepared… to thwart those that bore the mask of the demon. And this time was no exception. The woman continued to smile, a soft glow to her gaze as she again looked upon the canine and palm offered for the other to take lead. “What shall I do to help you spar?”