[attr="class","isratalk"]

"Most definitely." Isra states rather decisively. It should come as no surprise that the decision was made well before he asked the question of her. The choice is solidified in the red gathering together in the fabric on her shoulder. A slender finger taps at it, pulling away to hold her palm open in front of her, facing the sky.

As if on cue the crimson sky breaks through the clouds in a flicker of faelight, flashing bright and blinding across their vision. In its wake the red water comes down with a newfound ferocity, something not quite like blood but errily close beginning to pool around their feet in seconds. The suddenness of it should be upsetting, but to Isra it is undeniably intriguing. The color feels like home in a false world that she finds it too easy to be a part of.

Something chirps, distorted, warped, broken or breaking beneath the weight of something unseen. Chirp becomes a wobbling trill as the source moves through the underbrush of the forest. It seems to scurry in a circle around them, presence masked in the illusion is has cast and making it impossible to pin point exactly where it is or where it goes. Golden eyes wonder, seeking it anyway, looking to narrow in on a direction and take it.

Leaves rustle, she looks to Remiel and grins. "Aren't you at least a little curious?" she doesn't wait for his answer, seemingly bounding in the same direction as the warped beast as it fleas deeper into the forest. Isra pays no mind to the falling rain, the pools of red on the forest floor as she splashes through them. Flickers of shadows jumping through the trees barely seem to register.

In a world without consequences that stick, Isra is reckless and eager to act on impulse. Be it for better or worse only time will tell.

Remiel Calcifet