Callynite
The air seemed to hum with what ever was in the nearby surroundings, causing the thunder to roll across the heavens even when the sky was clear and the sun peppered her hide with beams of soft light. Still she tries to keep in the moment, listening to the information Isra gives her of a creature in Denocte when the gods had shaken reality loose, "Shook loose reality? What are we - toys for the Gods to mess with?" The words were bitter as the deer's face twisted, but still her ears pitched forward as she spoke, her expression widening in shock at the description of these creatures, "What kind of . . . gods lead creatures like that to us?" Her voice was softer this time, her eyes widening as if imagining the chaos, the destruction those creatures can create. And in that moment, Isra was a bit more brave, a bit more of an awed inspiration to her at the knowledge she knew of these creatures and . . . she hunted them Sure, Cally was willing to join a party - to hunt a creature down, but it was less about bravery and more about determination and a lack of fear in the unknown. Okay, so Cally tended to leap blindly and forget to practice self-preservation.
She eyed skies again as another crack of thunder echoed, before her primary set of ears flicked at a second sound - beneath the thunder, of fury and pain. Both ears swivel, and her eyes widen as she turns into that direction. Beside her Isra's bow flares to life, and Cally's follows with the green glow she formerly remembered from her own magic. She glances at the other when she speaks, of the sound being what she's looking for. Cally's muzzle twists into an uncertain frown, not for the words, but for the sound made and what it could mean. Her shoulders stiffen, her gaze turns hard and determined, and with a solid nod her tiny hooves move her forward, her trot shifting into a bouncy run that spoke of her original deer form. Her ears flicked forward, her head dipped forward to keep the horn from being caught in anything, "What do you think it might be?" She asks quietly.
Her gaze peers through the darkness as another growl starts up, but a whine seems to be mixed into the sound. A flash of a furred body - the mass rugged and matted. Alarm bells start to ring, and it's like a need for caution is presented to her. She ignores it pressing forward, and a flash of red eyes are visible and a snarling mouth rimmed with foam. Her eyes widen and she steps back, an arrow suddenly aimed and her bow steady . . . and then she sees the pain and she hesitates, she panics, she stares with uncertainty, waiting. "It's . . . in trouble." She whispers, still unable to see what it might be, but starting to loosen the draw on the bow, her arrow unnotching. She didn't know what it was - but maybe . . . she could help it.
"Speech"
@Isra
She eyed skies again as another crack of thunder echoed, before her primary set of ears flicked at a second sound - beneath the thunder, of fury and pain. Both ears swivel, and her eyes widen as she turns into that direction. Beside her Isra's bow flares to life, and Cally's follows with the green glow she formerly remembered from her own magic. She glances at the other when she speaks, of the sound being what she's looking for. Cally's muzzle twists into an uncertain frown, not for the words, but for the sound made and what it could mean. Her shoulders stiffen, her gaze turns hard and determined, and with a solid nod her tiny hooves move her forward, her trot shifting into a bouncy run that spoke of her original deer form. Her ears flicked forward, her head dipped forward to keep the horn from being caught in anything, "What do you think it might be?" She asks quietly.
Her gaze peers through the darkness as another growl starts up, but a whine seems to be mixed into the sound. A flash of a furred body - the mass rugged and matted. Alarm bells start to ring, and it's like a need for caution is presented to her. She ignores it pressing forward, and a flash of red eyes are visible and a snarling mouth rimmed with foam. Her eyes widen and she steps back, an arrow suddenly aimed and her bow steady . . . and then she sees the pain and she hesitates, she panics, she stares with uncertainty, waiting. "It's . . . in trouble." She whispers, still unable to see what it might be, but starting to loosen the draw on the bow, her arrow unnotching. She didn't know what it was - but maybe . . . she could help it.
"Speech"
@Isra
