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Mi's eyes glimmer from behind a curtain of willow branches. In the twisting river dances Assen. Her leather covered form glitters in the moonlight, and twines around a young elf man. His cheeks flush at her proximity. He stutters a reply to something, and trips over his own feet. She crouches over him, fresh vallaslin throbbing a bloody red.
"Andruil does not hunt for love, Sister. She hunts for beasts." Mi sighs from behind her organic shield, "But with the Keeper sending us to a human conclave, I don't blame you for being mischievous for one last time tonight, Assen."