Illuminated by the light of the fire, dark eyes watched with suspicion as each new person approached, peering at their faces in an attempt to discern the threat posed by each arrival. For the most part, she could easily differentiate between a Dresmondi and an Eldouir from afar - the way they walked, the hair color, and the presence or absence of an animal at their side determined that - but even the company of the former did not guarantee safety. Not a day went by where she did not witness some sort of violence between Dresmondi.

Shifting slightly, Citra eyed the young woman who walked up to the flames and sat down nearby. As far as the teenager could tell, the newcomer had no obvious dyr, but that hardly meant anything given that dyrs came in all shapes and sizes. In addition to the stranger looking old enough to have one, Citra found it far safer to assume everyone posed a magical threat. After all, almost everyone did. The new girl began tossing rocks in the fire. Citra watched her for another long moment before turning away and casting another glance around at her surroundings.

A sudden movement drew Citra’s attention, an unknown object flying toward her. One hand falling automatically to the dagger on her thigh, she tensed and shifted to a more balanced crouch only to see a tiny dyr fleeing desperately toward the other girl. The odd critter hopped up its human’s outstretched arm and hid. Citra relaxed minutely, dark gaze drifting from the place she had last seen the rodent to the young woman’s face. Curiosity met guarded suspicion as they studied each other for a moment. Then the former spoke.

Silently, the teenager eyed the girl with the dyr before finally answering, “Who says I’m alone?” Solitude was a weakness, and weaknesses were not to be admitted lightly, even if they were true. By this Dresmondi’s standards, Citra might have been too young to be by herself, but that didn’t change the fact that she was - and had been forced to survive accordingly. ‘Should have’ meant nothing to her when hypotheticals had no bearing on reality. “Why are you alone?”

If the pointed look and raised eyebrow she gave Citra was any indication, the girl with the jerboa clearly doubted her implied insistence that she wasn’t alone. The teenager’s eyes narrowed slightly. Assumptions made, both by her and about her, at the wrong place and time could result in her death, and this young woman was making many of those, which only bothered Citra more because they were all correct.

A mocking question as the little rodent on her shoulder moved back into sight. Citra’s gaze flicked from the dyr to the girl. “You’re the one who assumed I was alone just because you can’t see my dyr,” Citra pointed out, rebutting the question. “If you don’t think you’re alone with just your dyr, then I’m not alone with just mine either.”

Leaning back as if she had any right to judge Citra on her life or behavior, the Dresmondi delivered her opinion bluntly and had the audacity to demand silence from the teenager like she held any authority over her dyrless companion. As if she wasn’t crushed just as thoroughly beneath the Eldouir’s boots. At least Citra wasn’t delusional about her lot in life.

Still, her hackles rose at the suggestion that she needed looking after and the accompanying implication that she was some pathetic soul who needed saving. She did not need this stranger’s pity. She did not want this stranger’s pity, nor the strings that inevitably came with it. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” The words were stated with conviction. If the other girl didn’t know by now that most Dresmondi were just as dangerous as any Eldouir, then she had been living under a rock. Threats came in all shapes and sizes. “And I don’t need someone looking out for me.”

The little rodent, Ember, controlled earth - that much was obvious enough now that Citra had seen it in action, answering a silent question she hadn’t gotten around to asking. Dark eyes watched as the stranger picked up the larger of the pebbles and tossed it at a man sitting at the same fire, though far enough away that Citra had only kept a peripheral awareness of him. Her hand fell to the dagger on her thigh when the stone connected with its target, who turned to face her while the lynx at his side unleashed a low growl. “Mind your own business,” She told the pair, bristling herself, before standing up and peering down at the instigator of the trouble. “You may not be an Eldouir, but it seems to me like you’re doing your best to act like one.“ The girl with the jerboa dyr could pretend that she was some sort of savior all she wanted, yet here she was confirming everything Citra knew about those in Elderkeep: people were only nice when they thought they would get their way.

“What makes you think I haven’t.” Citra could feel a sneer curling her lip as she looked down at the condescending Dresmondi with the rodent dyr named Ember. Five years in Elderkeep would have been a long time to go without encountering any of the roaming redheads at least once. But she felt no desire to explain that to the woman at her feet, who mocked her as if mere words could wound her. “Yes.” The single word was cold, dismissive. “I have nothing to prove to you.” Then, hand on her dagger and prepared for an attack, Citra walked away. She would find a different fire to sit by.