Skill: Ice Ice Baby and Green Flame

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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.

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.

notes: ranger 1/5 (still influenced by the flame)

She hadn't stayed at the strange fire, she had drifted some. She hadn't found her siblings, even a single one of them, and it only made her more confused, so she drifted further away. The smell was lost as the false night swallowed them all up and the snow tried to bury them. Either way, they were in danger. No matter which way it seemed like they were facing the end of everything. So why was it that she still was searching?

She had been terrified by the voice that invaded her dreams. To those that had been here longer it wasn't as bad. Or maybe it was just as alarming?

All of that drove the Dutiful to search. The runes, she had no idea what they looked like, but she had a feeling that it would stand out somehow. She was distracted when she found the great green flame - but there was nothing there that she could pick up. That sound - it wasn't the howl of the wind. It was a voice. Pragma heard the sound of something grumpy not too far from her. 'Fuck this, fuck that' maybe it was the leftover fumes from the fire that had her feeling a little giggly, but she couldn't help laughing the second time she heard the sound of her bitching. Fuck the dreams! She called out in response.

Rune Discovery : 「 Failure - Fissure Present 」 

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The yelling. All the yelling.

The land was so fragile, so fraught. Underneath the curses, beneath the desecration of our good work, all fell silent. More silent than normal. The birds hushed. The wind dropped. There was nothing.

Then, beneath your feet, the earth suddenly lurched, seemingly dropping several feet all at once. A great groaning sound replaced the silence. In the lasting snows of the cold, dead winter, the raucous shouting triggered a small avalanche.

Snow and rock plummeted, showering anyone within a small radius. It was short, but profound. If one were still heads above the snow, they would find a large crack in the earth, unearthed. It had been awakened, yawning, and ready to eat.

Would it be fed?