[ It sounds like the undead rearing for an attack, enough that even the Fuck isn't enough to stop Fjord stumbling backwards in a hurry and summoning the Star Razor in a burst of cold blue light and dramatic waft of fresh frost. He holds it at guard toward the gleam of angry red eyes until he picks out the familiar figure attached to them that decidedly isn't lunging any closer, squinting around the birds and herbs that hang over the table.
His shoulders sag and the sword lowers, heartbeat thundering in his ears. ]
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His shoulders sag and the sword lowers, heartbeat thundering in his ears. ]
... Molly? Is that you? Gods, what the hell!