<span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span> <table class=ooc><tr><td> Dyo 19th, 81379 </td></tr></table> The heavily furred femme slowly trudged through the ever shifting sands, her paws sinking only slightly in the loosely packed terra-firma. Head hung low between jutting shoulder blades, their twin peaks visible even through the thick, long fur of her body. The religious ornamentations on her rear leg clunked and whispered softly against the heavy linen wrappings, a small bunch of pointed teeth near the enter of one string clattering like a wooden wind-chime caught in an uneven breeze. Her jaw hung slack, salmon pink tongue lolling out to help prevent her overheating as the female wandered under the unforgiving sun. How could she have been so naive to think that she'd be able to cross the desert? Even at it's narrowest parts, it was still a fair sized area of land; even to one who was used to travelling for days at a stretch. Her fur and build was meant for the bitter cold, not the scorching heat. 'Fool... that is what I am. This is not my place... Should've taken another route..." her thoughts were broken and distorted from dehydration and the growing feeling that she was tresspassing one someone, or somethings, territory. Unfamiliar with anything outside of Dhruv, she did not know of the Anubi or their claims to the deserts of Ramath-Lehi. But that tingle in her mind simply would not go away...
<span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span> <table class=ooc><tr><td><span style='color:yellow'>Speech</span> <span style='color:orange'>Thought</span> <span style='color:red'>Telepathy</span></td></tr></table> A dragon ran across sand. He was panting heavily and focusing on his steps. He had a backpack swung easily over his shoulder, and a loose pair of jeans hung low on his waist. The figure carried bottles of water by his side, loosely tied to his belt. He had been running for about 4 hours, nonstop, keeping the same speed, same tempo. <span style='color:orange'>One, two, one, two, one, two...</span> His long mane swung lazily behind him, and his long tail swayed back and fourth as he went along. The Pwa Desert was his escape from society. His girlfriend treated him as <span style='color:yellow'>"gum on the bottom of your shoe"</span> She would always nag him, over and over. The desert was his time to train, running, stamina, endurance. He could finally escape from the ghettos of where he lived, the yelling neighbors, and filthy bathrooms. Nobody, complete silence, peace, the deserts seemed like his to keep. Except something seemed strange. The sound, a soft but growing clattering. The male stopped his running, and squinted through the dust of the sun. Deserts were never trusting, they were hell holes, of burning afternoons, and evergrowing heat. The male swung a rifle from his back, and drew back the iron bolt. He never used it, but kept it close to him, just in case... The male stood a statue, sniffing the air. He spoke in a soft voice. <span style='color:yellow'>Pji uej...tuva, ias mys ulyma...</span> He peeled his eyes, and let the sand blow by him...
Laluka stopped, ears swivelling forward to catch a sound that was barely a whisper over the backnoise of the wind. She cautiously took a step forward, eyes narrowed in curiousity and suspicion. Shaking out the thick fur about her neck, she created a tiny cloud of shed sand that fell about her feet. "Fhy't shaja?" she barked into what had seemed to be empty desert. "Tgauc ump thyf iyojtalv." As she spoke she crept forward, tail flicking in pent up agitation. The white and lavender kiom's body was tensed, every muscle ready to pounch should the noise she heard be some strange desert predator.
The male squinted and held out the rifle. He approached slowly and cautiously. <span style='color:yellow'>E un Syjbuu ump E naum my hujn. Fhy uja iyo?</span> He took a few steps closer, and stopped, letting the dust blow by him. <span style='color:orange'>If this is dragon tries to kill me...</span> Torvaa could start to see an outline of the dragon. The sound of chimes became louder. Torvaa came up to the dragon. He dropped his rifle and bowed. <span style='color:yellow'>M-My lady... I am sorry for this inconvenience...</span> She was an elder, but that didn't keep Torvaa from greeting her.
