<span style="font-weight: bold">Library Battle</span><br/><br/>The last warrior ineffectually slices at Valeani, but soon she has him in a powerful grip, pinned helplessly to the floor beneath the mass of her slowly-squirming belly. Her rough tongue licks across his face, salty with blood and sweat, he has a rich, meaty flavour, seasoned by his fear. Delicious.<br/><br/>He kicks powerfully beneath her, bringing his knee up into her distended belly and shoving her off him, as he scrabbles back on his hands and knees, fearful prey, attempting to scramble away...<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">Cliff-foot</span><br/><br/>The night's stormy, and the tiny pebble and rock beach at the cliff-foot is being pounded by the waves. There's nowhere to flee from the spray, and its cold, dark and wet. Even if the Swiftwind knew to attempt to rescue you, the breakers could easily smash her longboat against the rocks, where it'd be pounded to matchwood. Bringing the Swiftwind herself into the shallow cove is clearly out of the question. Yet attempting to swim out to the vessel is an unenticing proposition... and waiting out the storm on the rocks a barely less attractive one. The cliff itself is almost sheer and spray slicked, offering few handholds... and any fall onto the rocks below could easily prove fatal.<br/><br/>Odette hugs her knees tightly against herself, shivering and bedraggled. She looks... lost. The salty spray offered her the chance to wash the acids from her flesh... but now that half-bath is sapping her strength and her heat... and a warm, tight stomach might be coming to seem as a refuge, though she says nothing. At least she's nicely seasoned from the salt-rub.<br/><br/>"T-tthanks," she stammers, drawing Ryla's cloak tightly about her... though the damp fabric does little enough to warm her, at least it offers some meagre protection from the biting ocean wind.