Smoke exhaled from Cypress's mouth as the wind was knocked out of her, the miqo'te having barrelled into her, shoulder first into her ribcage. Her back leg took her weight and kept her from falling over, but her head was bowed as she tried to catch her breath. A burning heat rose from her skin, the fissures along her skin nearly volcanic in their nature. Her long arm sought out the undead's body, to keep him in place.
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Meetings in the Wastes [Closed] |
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