Daylin (OC)
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Summary
A tumble of white-hair and flying limbs suddenly burst through the door as Quil shouldered it open. She overestimated the force she needed to do so and wound up in a heap on the wooden floor of the little cottage, staring up at a concerned Daylin whose gold eyes seemed brighter than last she saw the eladrin elf.
“I thought I was going to have to push a lot harder,” Quil murmured as she pushed stray locks of hair away from her face and sat up, “You don’t look deathly ill.”
Daylin couldn’t help the explosive laugh that burst past her lips, she’d missed Quil’s blunt humor, “The others may have been exaggerating, but it’s not safe for you to be here.”
Quil cocked her head to the side inquisitively, “Why? Because of lycanthropy?”