and even rarer to ask another for help — survival, self-sustainability. an important learned lesson of all drow from birth.
⠀⠀⠀ thus, her steel tongue and sharp gaze is warranted in caution.
⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀ no sooner is her hand reaching for the hilt of blade, on two feet, than ever. a drow asking for help is a guise — be it for an assassination, or a trap; or in the more pitiful case, a weakness deserving of an end. at least, back home it was so. ↪︎
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A lone female drow stumbles forward from the bushes, wounded and barely clinging to life.
〝 help … me — help me please, they’re after me — 〞
She falls to her knees, reaching out to the lowly lit fire.
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⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀ snowy brows furrow, crows feet in the narrow of scarlet eyes.
⠀⠀⠀ ❛ a daughter of the underdark reduced to begging — speak, sister; i have little patience to spare this night. ❜
⠀⠀⠀ it is rarest to see another of her kin on the surface world, ↪︎
and a coolness — confidence — that she is in fact the predator in any turn situation, not the prey. still, idly relaxed and unmoving save for the minute turn of her head over shoulder.
⠀⠀⠀ a silhouette framed by firelight.
⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀ ❛ you breathe loudly for someone who might savor keeping their throat intact. step forth and you might share this fire. remain in the edges of shadows, lingering like you are, and your blood may flavor my next vintage. ❜
⠀⠀⠀ she speaks with certainty, ↪︎