3/18/2026, 10:33 PM
Skill: Ice Ice Baby and Green Flame
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
It was cold as a witch's tit out, and during one of her practice flights (yes, as a grown raven she needed practice) she'd somehow gotten blown completely off-course, lost all sense of direction, and ended up in the middle of gods-knew-where without a coat. Then again, she'd rather die than have a coat like that fat silver bitch. Feathers would always be in fashion, Sylvie thought with great dignity.
And shivered.
The raven couldn't remember the last time she'd felt her legs, but she was certain a significant icicle had begun to form at the end of her beak; she could feel it, like a small weight dragging her delicate head forward.
A loud crack sounded nearby, and she looked down from her rocky perch with a scowl as a new fissure began to form.
Runes. She'd gotten the cursed dreams too, and for the better part of a year she filed them away as a product of the late-night meat sweats after a large meal. Unfortunately, this time, it all seemed quite... real.
She'd sort of half-heartedly tried looking for glowing rocks, but the snowstorm was making it difficult for her to see, and anyway, what could she do with it? Peck the fucking thing? No way she could lift a small boulder and fly it all the way to wherever Dingus wanted them to go.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
It was cold as a witch's tit out, and during one of her practice flights (yes, as a grown raven she needed practice) she'd somehow gotten blown completely off-course, lost all sense of direction, and ended up in the middle of gods-knew-where without a coat. Then again, she'd rather die than have a coat like that fat silver bitch. Feathers would always be in fashion, Sylvie thought with great dignity.
And shivered.
The raven couldn't remember the last time she'd felt her legs, but she was certain a significant icicle had begun to form at the end of her beak; she could feel it, like a small weight dragging her delicate head forward.
Fuck this place.
A loud crack sounded nearby, and she looked down from her rocky perch with a scowl as a new fissure began to form.
And fuck you, too.
Runes. She'd gotten the cursed dreams too, and for the better part of a year she filed them away as a product of the late-night meat sweats after a large meal. Unfortunately, this time, it all seemed quite... real.
She'd sort of half-heartedly tried looking for glowing rocks, but the snowstorm was making it difficult for her to see, and anyway, what could she do with it? Peck the fucking thing? No way she could lift a small boulder and fly it all the way to wherever Dingus wanted them to go.
Oh, what's - well, it's not blue, right?Sylvie said to herself, spying a green flicker through the dense woods. She decided to take a risk and flapped off her vantage point, gliding unsteadily toward the vibrant flame that promised something besides glowing blue death.
