[ Lancer, on his end, has his hands on his hips, nose towards the wind as if he can sniff out anything unsavory if he needed to. The air smells thicker here, heavier, as if someone's taken it upon themselves to draw all the energy around the surroundings and amass them here.
Brows furrowed, he scuffs the ground with his new shoes. ]
We're definitely headed in the right direction. The air smells rancid.
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Brows furrowed, he scuffs the ground with his new shoes. ]
We're definitely headed in the right direction. The air smells rancid.