Mystara is getting angry and tired of feeling the consistent pull of her bindings. They are uncomfortable enough without someone pulling at them. It had been more than a few hours since she tried to kill him with her ice spears. Still he has not so much as looked back at her, as if she does not exist at all.
It is not the same for the witch. The very scent of the elf in front of her is driving her mad enough to want to close the distance between the two. She wraps her fingers around the smooth silver braid that leads to elf’s hands and decides to give it a pull.
In return, she gets a hard tug. Mystara trips over her own feet and goes crashing into the back of the sturdy sky elf.
Rasmus grabs a handful of the witch’s long brown hair and tilts her head backwards, causing her to let out
