Once upon a time Rosita would have balked at traveling this way, but she's become accustomed to Vrenille's portals; the magic is even the same color, or near enough anyway, although there's no pleasant bell tone with this one. It doesn't matter. Chris says step through, and through she steps.
She had some warning about the possibility of ending up where she ends up, but she hadn't been sure and anyway - hearing it and seeing it, feeling it, are two different things. Her eyes widen and her arms automatically go out for balance, but she's steady. She doesn't jump when startled, she doesn't leap without looking, and she never loses her feet.
No, instead she stares down, transfixed. She's shivering almost immediately, her newly cut hair whipping around her shoulders with the wind, cheeks flushing - but it is, indeed, beautiful.
"Death isn't known for being pretty," she answers, belated, still holding her bottle of rum in a now very tight grip indeed. "Especially not being pasted by this kind of a fall. Did you fly up here?"
no subject
She had some warning about the possibility of ending up where she ends up, but she hadn't been sure and anyway - hearing it and seeing it, feeling it, are two different things. Her eyes widen and her arms automatically go out for balance, but she's steady. She doesn't jump when startled, she doesn't leap without looking, and she never loses her feet.
No, instead she stares down, transfixed. She's shivering almost immediately, her newly cut hair whipping around her shoulders with the wind, cheeks flushing - but it is, indeed, beautiful.
"Death isn't known for being pretty," she answers, belated, still holding her bottle of rum in a now very tight grip indeed. "Especially not being pasted by this kind of a fall. Did you fly up here?"