hippolyta flynn has a pistol for a mouth (vexatiously) wrote in emillion, |
Of course it was fucking cold, of course. Outside of the city, it seemed so much cooler, more bitter, possibly because of all the open space. Flynn grumbled under her breath, adjusting her satchel full of potions as she went, scarf looped several times around her tiny neck. While the fighters were better stocked than anticipated, still she handed out potions, hi-potions for those she knew were in command. Her shoulder was aching from the weight of it all.
She sighed, breath condensing, as she approached the next fighter.