[ Ah, saints—there's someone here. Despite the murky darkness clouding his perception, he has enough sense to be concerned, hurrying forward to make sure the harpy didn't land straight on this poor girl. But in the torchlight, he can clearly see she's all right, though the same can't be said for the harpy near her side.
He raises his hands in front of him, in what he hopes is an amenable gesture, no longer armed. ]
Hold—I mean you no harm.
[ Though he doesn't approach, his gaze travels to the harpy, which beats its good wing with fruitless anger, sending up puffs of dirt and deadened leaves. ]
But you should move, miss.
[ An injured beast is all the more likely to lash out, and the harpies have talons that are meant for rending flesh off bone. ]
no subject
He raises his hands in front of him, in what he hopes is an amenable gesture, no longer armed. ]
Hold—I mean you no harm.
[ Though he doesn't approach, his gaze travels to the harpy, which beats its good wing with fruitless anger, sending up puffs of dirt and deadened leaves. ]
But you should move, miss.
[ An injured beast is all the more likely to lash out, and the harpies have talons that are meant for rending flesh off bone. ]