[Okay, point. She probably wouldn't be concious if Potemkin had been the one... sorry Potemkin. A quiet grunt as she stands, and sorts herself out, though it isn't until she's reaching for her weapon does it hit her. A particular smell that incites nostalgia in her. It isn't as odorous as it is back home - she doubts anything here will ever reach that level, but perhaps for the better - but the smell of blood gets her heart racing.
It's just as Wukong says it that a small group of lizardmen round the corner and enter their corridor, likely drawn by their... perfectly graceful entrance, what're you talking about--]
How bizarre.
[Though no time for pleasantries, because with a hiss, they're scuttling this way.]
no subject
It's just as Wukong says it that a small group of lizardmen round the corner and enter their corridor, likely drawn by their... perfectly graceful entrance, what're you talking about--]
How bizarre.
[Though no time for pleasantries, because with a hiss, they're scuttling this way.]