[ She shrieks, but it's a raw, angry sort of sound, but still laced in surprise. Predictably, she ducks in close against the trunk as ice and wood rains down around her, before snapping first a look upwards to see where the damage has scarred up the wood, and she lifts a hand to feel it. Her tattooed fingers splay, pulling back quickly-- ]
Cold! And wet.
[ The look she casts down again has an intensity about it, sharply curious, as if fear has come and done its part and is now not of any use.
8D
Cold! And wet.
[ The look she casts down again has an intensity about it, sharply curious, as if fear has come and done its part and is now not of any use.
Ice is not native to her version of Australia. ]
A sudden sharpness in the air.