<span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span> <table class=ooc><tr><td>It's just a storm, not holographic, but it sounded rather nice. x3 -This thread is private. No exceptiooonns. kthx. -This thread is based around a storm which hits Swaraj on the 3rd of Tria; see the In-Character News forum (hopefully). Stats Who: Dumu as his self-titled character; CobaltThorn as Esper. What: The two escape from the advancing lightning. When: Early afternoon Tria the 3rd 81378 -Esper is in her bipedal form; I think it would make sense to do the thread that way. Also, feel free to backtrack a little to when the storm's brewing when you post, Dumu, because I pretty much went through Esper's experience and I think you should have Dumu relive the storm as well. That's all here. If you want to add anything in, Dumu, be my guest ;] </td></tr></table> The rain plastered the hot-pink female's fur to her slim body, turning it dark magenta rather than bleached-out fuschia. Her feet squelched along the wide earthen road. The unrelenting rain beat down feverishly, stirring the air with wind that whipped her face savagely. The sky, an unfriendly shade of purple, suddenly flashed a pale gray. A rumbling groan started behind her. The air was warm, the clouds haloed in dim, indirect sunlight that would soon fade completely away. Her breathing was faster than normal, her fists clenched. She was loathe to admit it, but it was true... ...Esper Avalon was terrified of lightning. She loved storms and didn't mind rain, yes, but hated the lightning that inevitably came with the aforementioned pleasures. Still, she was nearly sure she could make it home before the storm came right overhead. Clutching her wrapped paper sack to her chest (it contained flat copper strips she'd obtained on the outskirts of the village), she hurried down the hill. It was quite steep, and muddy; her claws dug hard into the road, leaving long scuffs behind her in the muck. On one side of the street (the left), there stretched a grassy field, the short plant stalks pale green with new growth. On the other side there were some assorted abandoned caves and stones, lined in needled evergreen-type trees. Everything was slick with the fresh warm rain. There was still a quarter-mile's jaunt to any open shop or home. Which is friggen' unfortunate, Esper thought to herself, hugging the bag parentally to her body. It wasn't really helping. The female wore an already-wet, raven-black-gray denim jacket and ripped jeans, patched beyond repair. Any attempt she made to protect her wares was futile, because of the jacket, which dripped with the fat drops, but not because it was water-resistant-- it was already soaked to full capacity. The female plucked at the jacket as she walked along, worrying her onyx lipring with a pink tongue. The other day she'd heard by word of mouth that a tropical storm was to hit Swaraj at some point in the next few suns. She'd taken the information into account, and had even locked her lovely little Varsinid, Telbaj, in the bathroom, as she didn't bother caging the creature (indeed she'd never bought a cage). But she never really realized the storm had been coming when she'd headed out to get copper for a commission. She was reflecting on the handful of evacuations that had occurred around the coast, hoping that perhaps she could play host to one of the evacuees and get to know someone. Just then, the sky exploded into brightness again behind Esper; the light was followed frighteningly quickly by a vicious crack. "Ohshitohshit!" Her voice, normally playfully sarcastic, was now truely unnerved. Her walk sprang into a run, but she instinctively opened her jacket and stuffed the copper inside an inner pocket as she trotted. Now that her arms were both free, she pumped them in time with her running. She had just reached the bottom of the hill. "Craaap..." she said, remembering that she had to run up the second hump, Barker's Hill, and then down it before she reached the center of town. The rain was forming rather large puddles in the ground now. She splashed through them as she headed along the rock-lined, dirt street to Barker's Hill. But it seemed her running was in vain; the storm was moving quickly. The sky was now a dark greenish gray. The lanky fuschia female looked up at it with amber eyes, squinting against the rain. She noticed a bird wheeling, out of control, far up above. That sucks. Really, I'd hate to-- shit! With her eyes cast above, Esper had failed to see the deep puddle of muck in front of her. Pumping limbre legs, she moved to dodge it, but the wind suddenly buffetted her right; she skidded through it, her body hurling into the mud. "Agh! What the f--, she shouted, but her curse was either cut off or drowned out by another slam of thunder. Shouting as her ears popped, Esper realized that the flash had come simultaneously with the thunder. That meant-- "Right overhead," she panted, as she pushed herself up and doggedly ran to the top of Barker's. The wind was blowing so hard that every drop of rain (which had now turned cold) was like a fiery needle; each drop drove through her wet pelt and into her flesh, heedless of her fur. "Almost there, doll," she said to herself aloud; she had to yell it for the roar of the wind and thunder. She began to descend Barker's, ignoring the lightning flashes. At least, 'till they became utterly impossible to ignore. Her fur stood up slightly, despite the wetness, and a metallic taste filled her mouth. Her tooth, the one with the metal star fused on, hurt terribly. The hot-pink femme suddenly put two and two together. Her tawny eyes shifted slowly behind her, to the peak of Barker's Hill. The sky roiled above her; she knew what she had to do. Amber orbs widening wildly, she dove down the hill, body smearing rapidly through the mud and cutting her chin with stones. Not six yards behind her, the lightning forked down on the top of the bald hill, sending a slight shock through the earth. "Ohgod, she said, leaping up rapidly. And just in time-- the ground groaned beneath her; when she lifted up her feet the soles of her army boots were hot and slightly melted. Esper had had enough; she was, for once in her existance, scared witless. As she dashed along lights came through, obvious in the storm's gray shades. "Goldenapplepub,fugginglightning,damn... s'open, s'twointhedaytime," muttered Esper to herself, in slight hysterics. But she kept running towards the lighted windows, noticing vaguely that hats were now flying about in the wind and that a small rodent had just tumbled by, but not registering any of it truely. The only thing that mattered to the saucy pink femme was that she got into the Golden Apple without being electricuted. Nearly there... her breath caught in her lungs as she began to say the words she'd just thought, aloud. There was a huge crrrrack, and a tree halfway down Barker's exploded in a shower of electrical sparks. Several branches fell off, and the trunk was split down the centre and charred completely. Barker's was a ways back, now, but she could still see the fork well enough. Esper looked back behind her shoulder, so distracted by the tree's untimely demise that she didn't notice the large wooden laquered door in front of her. Smash. Uggh... Esper peeled herself off the ground, her lip bleeding; and hurled the door open and herself through it. With another heave the door closed, and she pressed her back to it, as if thinking the raging weather was a hand that would open it, and that she was the only barrier. After a few seconds of eyes-closed panting, she looked up and around. Somehow she was surprised to see that there were at least a dozen pendragons there, as soaking wet as she was and just as shaken. They looked, noting that her fur was plastered to her body, and little rivulets of cold water made assorted puddles on the floor arond her feet. Then several began to speak. She spoke back, shivering. Someone offered their coat, and she gladly stripped off her own, hanging it on a peg by the door (though that wasn't going to do much). Beneath her denim jacket was a black tank top with a pendraconic skull and crossbones upon it. Soon she was sipping hot black kyvvaa, her nose wrinkling at the taste. The bar was warm, though the wooden boards creeked with the force of the wind. It was not an unclean establishment: the air smelt of oil soap, used to clean the all-wood floors and counters; scotch and wine; dishwashing lye; and strong meat stew. The decor was dark and simple, though the bar chairs were of real red leather. Inhaling, Esper kicked off her army boots, water and muck showering the floor. Still, the femme didn't particularly care that she was dirtying the place; she couldn't keep those hot shoes on forever. She took another steadying breath, and another bracing sip of the kyvvaa, actually baring her teeth at the bitter flavour. It was brewed strongly. Rolling her shoulders, she looked to the window, and saw the rain rolling down like molten glass. Shaking her head mutely, she began to pity anybody outside...
<span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span> <table class=ooc><tr><td> Sorry it took me a while to respond ;).</td></tr></table> BIC:- <span style='color:blue'>Dumu was aware a storm was coming. A storm was nothing to him; he carried on about his business; but that was a normal storm. As storms go, he expected thunder, downpours and definitely gale force winds. Nevertheless, this storm was utterly unorthodox. The skies were growing darker and the winds blew more coldly. Caught half way into buying some more food for he and Thema, a crack of thunder severed the expanse above by the seams, unleashing the rain that would come crashing down upon his head violently, dazing him slightly. He took his hand to his head, flattening his once elegant, shimmering dark blue fur and running his fingers past his ears and down to his neck. Deciding he would come back for the food later; primarily he needed to find some shelter. Thunder cracked again even louder and even brighter. It blinded him briefly, only for things to come back to him as a blur. The rain lashed into him, slicing through his fur, burrowing itself within his bones. Dumu had a difficult time seeing where he was going as the water felt like a ton on his eyelids. By shaking his head to clear the water from his eyes, it only filled up again. It seemed like trying to empty a canister of water near the ocean floor. This was a most irritating turn of events for him. He was only 16, he wasn't expected to fend for himself. Well, so you would think. Although he was perfectly able to do so, it didn't change the fact that he was young, and, now, in desperate need of shelter. Warm, almost salty water found their way into his lungs. He coughed hard, finding stability against the door frame of a block of flats. He had never hurt so much; his eyes strained with the pain of the warm liquid seeping into his blood. Lightning swelled in the sky, eventually plummeting to the ground, rocking the ground with its power. This was the queue for all that reserved pressure to overflow and plunge down on top of him. Inundated with the oil-thick water that fell from above, he felt as though he was wading through a river of tar. Each stride was an effort. The rain toyed with him, confiscating his breath and only relinquishing it in an even more callous blast. Dumu was blown off balance, crashing into the wall of a house. Was it him, or was the wind targeting him? It virtually grafted him to the wall, and through the grace of Renn-nukhs, he pried himself free from the clawing grip, edging across the wall. His long hair blew into his face, thrashing his face. A dim, warm glow peered from around the next corner. Was this his shelter he sought after? Or was it merely a trick played upon him in times of desperation? It had never happened before, nor had many things, so there was room for the unexpected. He clambered through the wind and rain. A blast rocked him off balance once more. The sky roared with a silvery anger, subsiding back to its original raging self. Determined more than ever to reach safety, Dumu lugged up the wall to gather his balance again. Whipping, in one motion, the water from his brow, he lunged at the edge of the wall. He grasped for any conceivable crevice on the other side. His luck was in, a small recess allowed him to sink his fingers in and haul himself forward, against the relentless conditions. Unable to see clearly through his saturated eyes, nothing would stop him from reaching his goal which was the warming glow. Finally, he threw himself with all his might into the open road, landing by good fortune at the base of a door. Clambering up the walls either side of it, he heaved his weighty body up and in through the door, then closing it with his right elbow in slight frustration. Conversations in the room ceased. He felt that he may be unwelcome there. Seeing as how his vision was still blurred, it was hard to surmise what the room actually was. Dumu swayed slightly at the lack of opposite acting forces. His hand slipped off the genteel, wooden wall. He was aware now that he was drenched through and through. His clothes were virtually black with retained water. Gradually, the conversations resumed. He ran his right hand from the crown of his head down to his neck again, flattening his weather beaten fur. Coming to his senses, at last, he realized that this was a pub or hotel. He had never been in one before, but had heard a lot about them. This, without a shadow of a doubt, fit the bill of a pub. Dumu sauntered in the general direction of the red leather couches in the corner, whereupon, feeling their fresh, unique texture, he sat, drowning the material in one go. Dumu could see the rest of the room when he looked into the proverbial estuary he had left behind him on the beautifully lacquered floor. Mercilessly, the storm raged onwards, shattering on the window, only to continue its iron fisted hold on the area. Sighing for the first time he could hear, Dumu relaxed in his cold, sodden clothes, brushing them now and again. </span>
'Sper first became aware of Dumu when she peered out of the window some moments before he came into the door. There was a wall near the pub, to the left of the road; also to the left if you were staring out of the pub window as she was. Peering around, she saw out of the corner of her tilted, amber eyes a large shape shuffling with effort along the wall, pressing himself to it (she was pretty sure it was male). Or maybe the wind was pressing him to it. She raised her eyebrows, wondering if he'd get to the pub, even. It seemed somewhat of a feat, what with the lightning still striking the ground 'round the pub, making Esper gasp sharply with every crack and answering explosion of light and sizzling sound. Esper watched the male enter the establishment, wincing at the barrage of rain and cold air that whirled through the door, instantly spattering against the bar counter. Instinctively her lips peeled back in a quick and silent snarl; seeing that the door was quickly shut again, the rictus turned into a soft mrrr, and she settled back down with her steaming, bitter, espresso-style kyvvaa. The stuff was creating bad harmony in her mouth, and her stomach was empty, so it soured a bit upon reaching said belly before calming down. Looking up from the black pool which was her coffee, she saw the newcomer standing there, dripping like he would never be dry again. Which is probably true, considering how much rain is throwing itself around out there, she thought scathingly (towards the weather at least). His fur looked black, though when the oil-lamps shone she could see the slightest navy tint to it. The creature looked miserable as he shuffled his way across the pub, and the electric-pink female (whose fur looked almost purple at the moment) jumped as a massive squelch resounded through the pub when he sat down upon a seat near her. "Oh dear," she said in her normal sarcastic tone, but still leapt up from her seat and headed toward the bar counter. At the end, where the long marble countertop met the wall, there was a hook. It was made of brass and it was nailed on the inside of the bar wall. The thing was well- and fondly-polished, but crudely made. Upon it rested a cream-coloured, obviously hand-woven towel, which looked absorbant enough. Many pubs had them behind the bar for spilt drinks and the like. She reached a long and limbre arm out and, with one black-enamelled claw, flicked the cloth off of its metal perch. Sauntering back toward the sopping newcomer, she tossed him the towel and then flopped down in her own moderately damp seat, revealing from beneath her arm the bag of copper strips. She'd salvaged them from her jacket, luckily, before hanging it up. Now she pulled the strips from their paper bag, hastily fumbling through them. There were eight impossibly thin pieces, and they pinged together as she surveyed them for rust. Finding none, she commenced to rubbing them furiously on the borrowed jacket (one that was much too large) that she wore, taking off every trace of water and more until one section of the jacket was wet with the rain she'd wiped away. Sighing, she placed the metallic orange-copper stripes into two pockets, separating them. She turned towards the newcomer, then, to see how he was faring with the towel. She noted that he was a few years younger than herself, but even with his fur sticking in all the wrong places and his body seeming scrawnier for that, he was much larger than her; he seemed quite strong. "On any other day Passinaz would have your hide, doll," she commented to the navy-coloured male to her right. She was, of course, referring to the owner of the pub, who wasn't a big fan of clutter, but positively hated to have his leather chairs ruined or spilt on. I'd consider them spilt on, she mused, wondering when she could go home. "Passinaz owns this place," she told him. "I'm Esper Avalon. I live further down into town. Sucks, the storm, doesn't it?" She asked, waving her arms rather unexpressively about her, her black-polished nails looking glossy in the bar's lights. Her coyote-esque visage now pointed towards him, inquisitve and obviously expecting a returning exchange of information.
<span style='color:blue'>Dumu opened his eyes to a reasonably large towel strewn across his right leg. He looked up at the maroon coloured femme sitting down on the couch opposite him. She, too, was weighed down by the rain. He wondered just how long she was out there. It wasn't often that someone would speak to him when he was in a place he shouldn't. When she had finished warning him of the trouble that may lie ahead, he said calmly and softly,</span><span style='color:black'> Strict man I take it then?</span><span style='color:blue'> Dumu made sure that he kept his voice down, but loud enough to be heard. He noticed the drink she had picked up. When she drank it, it was clear that it wasn't to her liking.</span><span style='color:black'>My name is Dumu Amsesi. I live in the denser parts of the Jungle with my sister.</span> <span style='color:blue'>Looking out the window next to him, he slowly turned his head back to her, flashing his metallic blue eyes, <span style='color:black'>I would have preferred better.</span> He smiled slightly; gently taking the towel from his lap he raised it a little, </span><span style='color:black'>Thank you. That was kind of you.</span><span style='color:blue'> Dumu dried his arms and head. In part, for his own sake, he heeded what the femme had said moments ago and draped the semi damp cloth over the seat, and sat upon that.</span><span style='color:black'> I knew it was coming not that long ago. I thought I could get some essentials before it came.</span><span style='color:blue'> He gestured with one hand towards her, </span><span style='color:black'> Can I get you anything?</span> <span style='color:blue'>Dumu tilted his head fractionally to one side, though it was enough for his long hair to flow down from his back and swing in front of his arm. He would have liked to have returned the favour. In the past, Dumu was said to be older than he looked, but as of yet, that had to be proven. </span><span style='color:black'>I don't have much on me; I don't know what to get her.</span><span style='color:blue'> He kept the offer open nonetheless.</span> <span style='color:blue'>He leant across the table, wrapping his hands over the crown of his head. Dumu was tense from all that excitement. He stretched his arms back, hearing his shoulder pop. Sighing, and lifting the glass in front of him to inspect it for no reason whatsoever, he was reminded just how fierce it was out there. An earth-shattering explosion from above the building shook the glass from his grasp, cracking it on the table. Dumu frowned at it, thinking that it was inevitable anyway that he would be thrown out. He placed a few coins next to the mess on the glossy table. </span><span style='color:black'>If I am thrown out, they can't say that I didn't help a little.</span> <span style='color:blue'>He smirked at the thought and looked up once more at the femme. Finally, registering so that he knew, he noticed that she was not that much older than he. Dumu sat back in his persistently wet clothes, resting his hands on either thigh. He needed to get rid of that shirt; it wasn't doing him any favours at all. He had already come down ill once, he didn't want it again. Until he could get another one, he sat there dripping wet. At least his arms were dry. Again he smiled, a little more freely this time.</span>
<span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span> <table class=ooc><tr><td>So sorry for delay... my muse literally fled out the window for the past several days... So my apologies if this post is utter crap. Also, she's pink, not maroon. Even when she's wet. ;]</td></tr></table> At at the he-'dragon's first, the pink femme laughed. "Strict... nah. But rather strangely protective over his leather. She twisted the corner of her mouth a bit; not in a cruel way, but rather in matter-of-fact thought that Passinaz might just kill the newcomer. After he introduced himself, she flashed a fleeting, sharp-toothed smile and commented, "Yay," as "nice to meet you" just sounded so... old. Lastly, Esper nodded to the dripping, velvet-blue male, acknowledging his thanks to her with the words, "No worries." She picked up her coffee and took a deep sip. She shivered; the air in the bar was not warm enough. It couldn't be warm enough. Her fur prickled as she watched another bolt of lightning arced through the sky to smash into the ground forcefully. The storm did not seem to be moving; the rain only fell harder, battering the windows like hail. The bar's occupants were surprisingly high in wealthy Ramathians, as was normal for Watani. The finest house parties, after all, were held there, in the finest homes. She was to attend one in a few days; there was no doubt that the Janardan high society bitches would be there, as well as the druggies. She sensed that both were in the pub. A dark, gray-black furred femme, who was streaked with mossy green, puffed at a handrolled cigarette. She looked powerful, yet out of place in an old brown leather bomber jacket and destroyed jeans. She had, like our own pink-furred protagonist, the look of fierce, aggressive youth. But unlike herself, Esper didn't think this one would play around. Meanwhile, one snow-white female's bleached teeth chattered as she plucked at a grapefruit-pink sundress and corresponding yellow shawl with frigid fingers. Esper's eyes softened a bit in pity at that, but she remained where she was, burrowing deeper into the oversized jacket provided by a kindly patron, who had been inside (dry of course) when she arrived, already drowning his sorrows at two in the afternoon. 'Sper ignored the rustling sounds of Dumu drying off, then brought her feet up onto the chair and turned her body sideways so as to speak to him better. I knew it was coming not that long ago. I thought I could get some essentials before it came. Can I get you anything? She frowned slightly. "No, no thanks. I have meals in the fridge at home and stuff. Good thing, as well." She noticed that he'd placed the towel under him. "Heh. Good," she thought aloud. After a brief silence she made a chikkachikKA-sort-of-noise with her teeth, clicking them and exhaling. The storm raged on outside, but she felt somewhat safer in the huge jacket she was cuddled into. "So... looks like we'll be here for a while. Er... you said that you live in the jungle? That's a bit far. D'you like living in all the wilderness? Esper, for one, didn't think she'd be able to live without people around. But that was just her, she often reminded herself. "How old's your sister? She going to be okay in this type of weather, alone? You seem the protective type," she said playfully, flicking his chair. <span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span> <table class=ooc><tr><td>The mossy-green and black female was a cameo of my yet-to-be-born character Fester Shatz ;] Just thought I'd note it.</td></tr></table>
<span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span> <table class=ooc><tr><td>I said maroon because Dumu still couldn't see clearly :); I'm not too familiar with RP, but I really do like to write books ;). Sometimes I might write something that's way off, but I'll fix it soon afterwards.</td></tr></table> <span style='color:blue'>Dumu leant across the table once more. He had never been asked that before; in fact, no one really spoke to him much. They just passed him off as a trouble maker. How, he didn't know though. He crossed his arms and rested on his elbows, then, looking straight at her, he said, </span><span style='color:black'>It's doesn't affect me terribly. I was raised in the Jungle, and have lived there all my life, so far.</span><span style='color:blue'> He sighed. He didn't normally speak so much about himself. </span><span style='color:black'> Indeed, I am protective. I learnt not to trust openly. It nearly cost me a life. </span><span style='color:blue'>It was apparent he was talking about Thema, his sister; for about whom else would he be talking?</span><span style='color:black'> My sister's 13; she and I were able to survive some rather, difficult set of circumstances in the past. I trust her. If she needs me, she'll tell me. </span><span style='color:blue'>Unlinking his left hand, he raised his fingers to his head, indicating he was telepathic. </span> <span style='color:blue'>Even after drying his face, he still couldn't see clearly. Maybe the rain had gotten further into him than he had first thought. Keeping his focus on the femme, he said,</span><span style='color:black'> By chance, would you know when Mr. Passinaz will be back? </span><span style='color:blue'> All the time Dumu retained his manners. He didn't belong there, so the only way he was going to get anywhere was to do what came naturally to him. On this occasion, he felt he sounded very much the innocent little kid, lost amongst street hardened 'dragons. But who cared what he sounded like; he could change in an instant. Anyone who had seen him do so would vouch for that. </span> <span style='color:blue'>The downpour had become so much of a part of the day, it was practically forgotten. Yes, the hammering of the window sills brought those who had wandered off back to reality, but it was almost like still air; you accepted that it was there and ignored it... Until it affected you, that is.</span> <span style='color:blue'>For now, Dumu would stay in this pub for the duration of the storm, or until Passinaz came back and chucked him out. Then he had nothing else to do but brave it out and get back home.</span> <span style='color:black'>Hmm..</span> <span style='color:blue'>Although unintentional, it was audible. This femme sitting guardedly across from him wasn't stupid; she'd probably pick up on it. He had tons to hide, but sharing the reason for the sound he made was perfectly fine.</span>
Esper simultaneously pulled her head back, raised her eyebrows, and smiled, which sounds very stupid, but is a legitimate facial expression. It was a "wow, I guess he is telepathic!" type of look; she let it take over her face for a moment, then assumed a normal expression as he continued to speak. By chance, would you know when Mr. Passinaz will be back? She smiled at that. "It's just Passinaz. His last name's... Ex-- Exowhatsit, I don't remember. Everybody just calls him by his first name." She paused, reflecting. "I think he's actually here, in the back. It is his pub." Shrugging, she took another king-sized sip of the mug of black coffee. She grimaced; it was getting cold. She plunked down the mug distastefully and looked with tawny amber oculars at him, her gaze clear and friendly. Despite the rain she was in a decent mood. "But if you've a question, I might know. I may not be loaded, but I do live around here, mate," she said, following this statement with an evil-sounding, short-lived cackle. Her eyes shifted from the dark blue male to the counter, and she saw a bartend there, nervously cleaning glasses. She held up one paw and mouthed, "Kyvvaa, black" to the tend. He nodded his understanding and put down the sparkling shotglass he held, and went up to the hot-water pitcher, pouring the pitcher's contents as well as some ground coffee into a french press and starting the depressor. Esper looked away, back to Dumu, who looked very muzzy-eyed. He made a quiet noise, and the hot-pink femme looked at him quizzically, cocking her head in concern. "You doing okay?"
<span style='color:blue'>He knew she had heard it, but she didn't ask what he had expected. Why was it that whenever he thought he had people down to a tee, they nearly always turned around and said the exact opposite? This never happened when he read their thoughts. </span><span style='color:black'>How should I answer this one?</span> <span style='color:blue'>He questioned himself. </span><span style='color:black'>Should I tell her...? Or do I circumvent it?</span> <span style='color:blue'>Narrowing his brow briefly and slightly, he sat up more. This time, he refused to speak out loud. 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COLOR="#3535FF">.</FONT><FONT COLOR="#3535FF"></FONT><FONT COLOR="#3535FF"></FONT><FONT COLOR="#3535FF"></FONT><FONT COLOR="#3535FF"></FONT></FONT> <span style='color:blue'>The situation had finally gotten the better of him. That was something he would never have done. Dumu frowned, severing his mental connection with her. Instead, he took up focus on nothingness. He didn't want to accept he had problems with which he couldn't deal; it was beneath him. He was raised and trained to be able to overcome the greatest of adversaries, but this..?</span> <span style='color:blue'>Dumu was now in two minds about staying or leaving. He looked up at the femme sitting, awaiting her kyvvaa, across from him. For all the warmth in the room, he still couldn't see clearly. Dumu returned from his temporary trance. He deliberately lowered his voice, to a more soothing, calm note, </span><span style='color:black'>Are you okay?</span> <span style='color:blue'>He wanted to change topic off him. Getting into the finer points of his past wasn't exactly what you would call, easy-listening. Yeah, for the majority, it was good, but when you want specifics, that's an entirely different ball game. Up until then he hadn't touched a drink, nor was he about to. This young woman made it clear that Passinaz was in the back, or somewhere close. How would he respond to a 16 year old 'dragon, sodden through and through, not to mention a 'dragon who had just enveloped his couch with water, ordering a drink from his bar. Dumu kept a straight face, but he thought, </span><span style='color:black'>Would I dwarf the man? I nearly always did. I bet he would think twice about throwing a nine foot tall 'dragon out the door.</span> <span style='color:blue'>Yet, the harsh realism dominated his thoughts, acknowledging that he would leave if asked. Dumu, scanningly, glanced about the room. He turned back to the femme, </span><span style='color:black'> Does this pub close some time soon?</span><span style='color:blue'> There was an air of discomfort about his tone, but he did his best to mask it with a clean cough. Ironically, the smell of strong kyvvaa invaded his lungs. He sat up sharply on the couch taking in as deep a breath as he could manage, without coughing for real. Dumu exhaled through his nose slowly, just to make it look normal.</span> <span style='color:blue'>Hauntingly, Dumu was reminded again of the traumatising conditions outside. An ear piercingly loud clap of thunder was unleashed not that far above the pub again. The shards of glass on the table from the first explosion bounced, and were flung to the ground. It appeared that the storm was only going to get inconceivably worse before it considered getting better.</span>
I am a stranger here and therefore don't know who to trust. However, you have been especially kind in comparison with others. I have a lot of problems with which I just can not deal. I am getting away from them for a short time. The voice seared through her conciousness, burning its words into her skull, 'till she closed her eyes and saw them there. But it did not hurt her, pe se; no, it was more of an urgency and "must-see" type of feeling that entered her mind along with the words. The femme suddenly felt one with Dumu in a deeply psychological way. His thoughts, ones of discomfort, filled her mind. Even after she felt the connection snap, the uncomfortable vibes lay along her head like a film or a mineralistic patina over a bit of metal. She blinked at the statement he had made, which still rung across her mind, as clear as if he were speaking aloud, right now. I wonder what he's all nervous over. "Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked, her voice quiet but commanding. But he'd already changed the subject. Are you okay? She looked at him, while snugging deeper into the huge jacket. "Oh, I'm fine. Drying out nicely now," she said wryly, flicking her tail, which protruded from beneath the coat. Droplets of water flew off the bone tip to spot the ground. With a chuckle, she snaked the tail back into her little shelter. Though the was nonchalant, she did wonder why Dumu had asked. It was obviously a coverup, and a bad one, she reckoned. At that moment, the bartend called to her. "Hang on," she said to Dumu, and stood up, shaking the coat off to reveal a drying pelt. Walking up to the tend, she fished in her pocket for a coin. The coins were old, very old. They were of a coppery hue and were pitted and etched in a fashion almost reminiscent of the Earth's Mayan or Incan artwork. Kyofu had given a large back of them to her several days ago for a long while back as payment for a smithing job. She shook her head at that; though the payment was good, her customer hadn't been. The coin landed on the counter with a metallic clink, and Esper took up the mug of kyvvaa, sipping thirstily on it, feeling the buzzing burn flare down her throat and into her belly. She considered getting stew; she was hungry and wanted something hearty. Deciding to wait 'till later, she turned around and sat down in front of Dumu. The first words from his lips were: Does this pub close some time soon? She frowned. "Why? This is probably the only open, warm place for a while. Is there--" she lowered her voice once more to a husky murmur "--a problem?" But before Dumu could respond, there was an ear-shattering slam of thunder from outside. The tinkle of glass hitting the floor was immediate, and Esper winced, pushing her body back against the chair and wrapping the coat around herself even more. The bar's patrons broke out in nervous mutters. "Holy crap," she managed after the crack-and-gleam of the storm's spasm had ended. "That was-- well..." but there were no words for her on how it was. Lamely, she shrugged her shoulders and closed bronze-gold-amber eyes, huddling into the jacket.
<span style='color:blue'>Dumu's eyes widened as she approached and sat nearer him. He drew in a rather hefty breath and turned away again, not so slow that you'd notice though. He curled up his bottom lip and held it in place with his pearly, white teeth. Again, he was deciding weather or not he should reveal his troubles. Well, to ignore her would be inappropriate, not to mention down right insulting. Regaining a lot of lost confidence in himself, he peered out the corner of his eye, he spoke to her, keeping his voice down,</span><span style='color:black'> I don't know if you can. All due respect, I wouldn't want you getti...</span> <span style='color:blue'>His speech was cut off by another clap of thunder. Dumu was, for the first time in his life, beginning to feel a little uncomfortable. This whole thing just wasn't right.</span> <span style='color:blue'>He sat back in the couch, not once looking at Avalon. The oil lamps suspended from the ornately designed ceiling caught his attention. They were perfect; their light; their purity; they almost reminded him of... No. That was why he was there. A searing anger grew within him. Enough was enough. Dumu tilted his head toward Avalon; some of his hair swinging in front of him, draping over his forearm, </span><span style='color:black'>If I may ask, have you by chance come across a golden, crystal encrusted necklace?</span> <span style='color:blue'>He dropped his hand out of sight into his pocket, where he pulled out his necklace, also crystal encrusted and golden. It had his name etched magnificently in pure opal on the inner side. Protected on both sides of his name, were two dragons intertwining from the sides and meeting to hold a sword. The sword was the same colour as Dumu, and upon it were similar markings. They seemed as if they'd continue in an endless pattern, however, they stopped at the first. Engraved in small, onyx text, was the word 'SHANU'. </span> <span style='color:blue'>He held it out for about a minute so that Avalon could examine it, taking in its undoubted awe. Dumu, riskily he thought, placed it carefully on the table in front of her. The necklace was unbelievably heavy; for all its gold and crystal and etchings, it was a wonder how he was able to pick it up anyway, that is, for someone watching him lift it.</span><span style='color:black'> If you have found one similar to this, you would have helped more than anyone could.</span> <span style='color:black'> The other one is of similar design, but it has the word 'DOUJPAP' written on the inner edges. It means a lot to me.</span> <span style='color:blue'>Dumu withdrew his hands back to his section of the table, locking them together once more.</span>
Esper was more than vaguely curious, now, about this concerned-seeming male's history. But she forced the questions that bubbled to her eager throat back down, instead nodding quietly to him when he spoke his first. But when the thunder sounded, she gave a silent yelp and leapt into the air, the fur on her hackles standing out. With a shiver, she dropped weakly back to her seat, this time enrobing herself almost fully in the oversized garment she wore. Her nose dissapeared beneath the heavy cloth; her eyes and the top of her muzzle now peered out. Her eyes flickered back and forth, surveying the barroom. The occupants now seemed thoroughly shaken, especially the snow-pelted female. But nobody seemed to be panicking, so she lowered the coat slightly. Indeed, the green-and-black furred femme seemed least perturbed of all. She examined unnaturally short nails as the storm crashed on outside. God, Esper. Okay. Compared to that chick, you look like un idiot. Breathe... And she did just that, taking in a deep lungful of air. "Aiiiiii'm okay," she whispered aloud, as much to convince herself as to assure Dumu. She shook her head. But Dumu had already begun to speak again. For that, Esper was actually glad. She didn't trust her own voice to function in a socially acceptable way once more. But soon Dumu was spilling something else. If I may ask, have you by chance come across a golden, crystal encrusted necklace? Esper looked quizzically at him, and then bent her head over the piece of jewelry once he'd layed it upon the table. Her breath caught in her throat, and not because of the weather: the craftsmanship of the sword, the way it was inlayed with colourful minerals, was amazing. The minute dragons, too, were well-made by some unknown method. She used the gentle, probing tip of one claw to touch the beasts, respectfully, as if she expected the little things to leap to life and nip her finger with tiny, needle-esque, gilt teeth. The thick golden chain was set in with crystal, link by link. And the opal lettering shimmered a thousand colours; despite the imperfect light and small size of the writing, Esper could tell that the gems were of the finest quality. She gasped at the sight of the miniature onyx symbols spelling out "SHANU" upon the sword, which was crafted as if it were its life-sized counterpart: with the utmost care. The femme was left speechless for a moment, just staring at this beautiful piece of handiwork, nay, artwork. The whole thing flowed together, too, not just pieces of a whole, but but one entire being, seeming to live on its own, in its own sparkling shafts of light. Her first reaction, after staring at the piece, was to ask Dumu where on earth he came to posess it. But he'd already begun to speak again. If you have found one similar to this, you would have helped more than anyone could. The other one is of similar design, but it has the word 'DOUJPAP' written on the inner edges. It means a lot to me. "Are you saying that there's more than one of these necklaces?" she said, awed that somebody would have the workmanship to produce not one, but two of these beauties. But then she realized that Dumu was quite insistant about finding the second piece of jewelry, and that she should tell him right off. "I'm so sorry, but I've not seen one of these necklaces before now. I'd've remembered if I had, believe me I would have... It's gorgeous. Just... amazing. It would be important to anybody for value alone, but if it had even more meaning to you I'm wicked sorry. I hope you find its counterpart soon." She lowered her voice conspiritorially. "But listen, Dumu. I'm a smith of all sorts, but mainly a silversmith-- that could hardly even be made by 'dragon's hands. It is amazing. In the eyes of a crafter, that necklace is what we all strive for. I have got to ask you. Where did you ever have the pleasure to wrap your paws around that for the first time?"
<span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span> <table class=ooc><tr><td>OK, all fixed. I'm much happier with this one. So that it doesn't look odd to you, I'm changing ordinary, narrative text to blue, speech to black, reflection on words to grey (a bit lengthy I know), indirected thought to normal black and finally directed thought in that colourized text above (:P)</td></tr></table> <span style='color:blue'>Dumu's heart sank upon hearing those words. </span> <span style='color:gray'>"I'm so sorry, but I've not seen one of these necklaces before now. I'd've remembered if I had, believe me I would have..."</span> <span style='color:blue'> Possibly his one hope just vanished in front of him. Or did it? She said she was a smith, silver smith mainly, but a smith nonetheless. Esper could easily be the one who finds the other necklace. </span><span style='color:black'>Yes. But there are only two in the whole world. They belong to Thema and I. For as long as I can remember we have had them by us, never leaving us. I was told when I was much younger that they were crafted by guardians and sent down to us. I believe that. I have no reason not to. You said yourself, my necklace could hardly have been made by 'dragon's hands. </span><span style='color:blue'>The bartender was busying himself behind the oak-like counter, cleaning up the glasses and the counter itself. Chatter from the other 'dragons was reasonably quiet and constant; his vioce shouldn't have been particularly interesting enough to warrant eavesdropping. Gently; persistantly; the oil lamps suspended securely over head teased Dumu's attention; like a little child continuously asking their parents for things they don't need. </span> <span style='color:blue'>When he looked, 'Sper's fur seemed to be drying quickly. Admittedly, she was hard to see when she huddled into the coat that made her look four times smaller. But after she pulled the coat down a fraction, it became clear to him that perhaps he was the only one who was, in essence, ravaged so violently by the wind and rain that he may not be dry again. The thought crossed his mind for a second, however, it was hastily hurried along by more prioritised thoughts. Suddenly, he realized what he had just said, moreover, how he said it, </span><span style='color:black'>Forgive me, I didn't mean to be so curt.</span><span style='color:blue'> Resounding among his words existed an unmistakeable tone of disgrace. Somehow, Dumu was beginning to lose his control. </span><span style='color:black'>Get a grip. Things can be worse, can't they? You have found someone who looks as if they may very well help you. Stop wanting to be alone and do things for yourself all the time. That could be another reason why you are here..</span><span style='color:blue'> A mossy-green femme, too, was trying to busy herself. To Dumu, she didn't want to be there; she had more pressing issues to tend to. A partially inebriated male at the end of the bar was having a hard time holding himself still, even whilst leaning on the 'dragon next to him. Dumu smirked at the the antics far from him. He hadn't seen it before. </span> <span style='color:blue'>Returning back to Esper, Dumu continued to answer her, </span><span style='color:black'>To both of us, the neckalces mean a lot more than any 'dragon could barter. These jewels are the remaining bond in our family, therefore, the sentimental value is greater than anything on this planet. </span><span style='color:blue'> His self-confidence was being restored little by little. A complete turn around from earlier he noticed. Maybe if he were to talk more of his possession then he would accidentily spill the reason for his presence there. Then again, maybe it wouldn't have to be accidental. Perchance Esper would be as helpful as he hoped, then it would only be civility that bring out the truth. But how much further would he be willing to go in order to build some form of solid, unquestionably reliable trust?</span> <span style='color:blue'>The towel she had kindly given to him not that long ago was soaked all the way through. Now it didn't matter if he sat on the couch itself. Even his arms and face were getting wet again. Stretching out one hand he cleaned up the mess sitting on his head to a respectable spikey look. He did it fairly quickly, but the results appeared as though he had taken hours. His fine hair flowed remarkebly, considering the beating it took. With a renewed sense of pride, Dumu sat back up and crossed his strong navy arms over the table-top, and watched tenderly how 'Sper would react.</span> <span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span> <table class=ooc><tr><td> Btw, like the pic? I did it myself. Finished editing on 5th July.</td></tr></table>
<span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span> <table class=ooc><tr><td>The post looks great, and it's much easier to read ;] Also, the picture looks fabulous!!</td></tr></table> Esper listened to the necklace's brief history, wondering now if Dumu was placed securely on his rocker. Whatev. Funner if he's not. In fact after this storm I'm not sure my rocker will be intact either, she found herself thinking. Esper was not exactly skeptical of Dumu's sincere story, but had more than a few thoughts regarding its exact accuracy. But she nodded, as she was, nonetheless, ensconced in the tale. "Oh, you've not been curt at all," she replied, surprised, to his innocent apology. "Actually you're really charming compared to a lot of the arses you get around here," she said, a wry smile twisting at her lips. But that smile soon melted away as she looked up to see Dumu's reaction; indeed, he hadn't responded as of yet but looked very conflicted. She frowned, looking into his still-soaked visage, but his eyes were not on hers and were travelling about the room with a troubled intensity. She followed the invisible strands of his attention toward the bar counter, where a patron was struggling with his own drunkness. A girlish laugh began in her throat, and she saw with some relief that Dumu's face was one of amusement as well. When his gaze came back to linger on her own eyes, he spoke. To both of us, the neckalces mean a lot more than any 'dragon could barter. These jewels are the remaining bond in our famaily, threrfore, the sentimental value is greater than anything on this planet. Earnestly she looked up at him and gave him a look of pity. "I honestly wish I could find them for you. I could craft you a new one... but it would be nearly impossible," she returned. "Even for an Argenta femme." The last was spoken so quietly that she doubted he'd have heard, but even so the words were laced with lead and far heavier weights of debt and duty to her family line. After a brief brush with a few introspective thoughts darker than the clouds outside, she returned to her normal state of being and ignored any musings on her forerunners. When she came back from her quick hiatus into her own mind, she found Dumu fixing his hair in a decidedly experienced way, which made her smile in mild surprise. But she soon saw that he towel had been soaked through hopelessly, and she was quite worried to see that he actually seemed to be getting wetter each time she looked. The waterlogged Dumu, indeed, seemed to be inflating rapidly in personality and self-respect, but the prospect of his getting dry seemed dubious. "Okay, wow," she said, and instantly stood up. Silently her body protested as she stripped the thick jacket from her now fluffy bleached pink shoulders. Though she didn't need its absorbancy anymore, she still cursed herself for giving up its warmth. And no doubt it'd be sodden in no time, but that was still no excuse to withhold it from the male before her. "Here, take this," she said, thrusting it towards him into his lap, so that he could not refuse. "Go on," she told him, and then sat back against the leather. Luckily it was warm from her body heat and she settled back upon it, her arms now crossed a few inches below her breasts through her skull-printed tank. She sighed, but knew (and who wouldn't?) that the very wet pendragon needed it more than she did. "So what exactly brought you here anyway? she asked, as much to distract her from the sudden coolness around her as to make conversation.
<span style='color:blue'>The thick, yet partially damp jacket felt warm on his lap; Esper was quite insistant about him wearing it. Dumu was't one to wear other people's clothes, but on this occasion, he would make an acception. After all, Esper was being abnormally friendly. Taking up the jacket, he passed it 'round his back, slipped both his strong arms in and flicked up the collar with his shoulders to fit around his neck. It sat comfortably on him, and didn't make him look too much bigger, </span><span style='color:black'>Unlike how it was on her, </span><span style='color:navyblue'>he mused. The colour of the jacket clashed with his fur and hair, making him stand out considerably from underneath it. </span> <span style='color:gray'>"So what exactly brought you here anyway?</span> <span style='color:blue'>Eloquently, the reason for him being there submerged into his mind. He never forgot, it's just that he didn't want to be there. He began to mull over what he should say, weighing up the pros and cons. She had introduced herself without hesitation; went out of her way to make him feel comfortable; show interest in his necklace but maybe more importantly, where the other might be; and complimented him on how he conducted himself. Overall, he decided that it couldn't do any harm to tell her. Well, to tell her some of the key points wouldn't do any harm. </span><span style='color:black'>You are aware now of the history behind my necklace. You are aware of where I live and that I live with my sister...</span> <span style='color:blue'>A shiver ran down his back, and it wasn't from the wind nor the rain trickling from his shirt... </span><span style='color:black'>A couple of years ago, when I left Thema home by herself, just to look after things, she was attacked. When I returned...</span><span style='color:blue'> His heart lodged itself in his throat. He was having a hard time recounting the incident well. Dumu forced it down, for Esper's sake, </span><span style='color:black'>She needed medical attention. There was no hospital of which I knew that was close. </span><span style='color:blue'>The memories that were being brought back made him hang his head with ignominy. Though, for all of that, he strained to finish what he had definitely started, </span><span style='color:black'>I stopped short of suddating her. Nothing I did worked. </span><span style='color:blue'>He kept his head hung over the table. </span><span style='color:black'>Do you really want to hear this? I shouldn't unload on you, it would be wrong.</span><span style='color:blue'> His voice gradually grew more distant, as if he was in his own world, locking everyone out.</span>
Esper snapped to full attention then, becoming instantly aware that she'd hit a nerve and feeling rather regretful she had. But there wasn't any taking it back now, so she simply shifted her body so that she sat sideways, cross-legged in the large chair, facing one of the arms and therefore also facing Dumu. She listened to his tale with some trepidation that some very-important history was unearthing itself before her eyes, but she kept quiet, and the only sound besides Dumu's voice was the rattle of the windowpanes and the ever-slamming crash of the storm outside. Her eyes were held steadily to his, and she did not break the gaze, even when she took a heavy sip of her kyvvaa. His words were halting and brief, skirting around the problem rather than proclaiming it right out. Once he had to stop, to swallow his words and start again. She could tell that the subject injected a lot of pain into his thoughts, and winced at 'She needed medical attention,' though the words were vague. Esper listened to the last attentively, hoping that this story had a good ending. He did say that he lives with his sister. Lives. Not lived. Maybe this works out in the end... But before she could worry about it more, Dumu had spoken again, as if from a deep hole. "Do you really want to hear this? I shouldn't unload on you, it would be wrong." At those words, she raised her brows pointedly in spite of herself. Did he really think she couldn't handle this? She was a female, not a mental invalid. "Psh," she said softly. She felt the familiar bubbling, eager burn of her temper, possibly because he had her coat and that her kyvvaa had long ago gone cold again. But she knew that he had it worse off than she did, so she quelled the fire she longed to spit and leaned in towards him. "Yes. I think it would help you to tell me... and besides, we're stuck here together for Gods-know-how-long, 'kay?" And she felt the bone tip of her tail begin to thump, rattler-style, against the leather upholstery. Sighing, she quieted it, shivering. She wasn't really sure why she was so pissed. PMS, maybe... she mused. "Dumu... is this why you need to find the necklace? Your sister? Is it her you need it to help? Because there are a couple hospitals around here, you know. It's Watani. There's everything." And she looked quizically at him, rubbing her arms in an effort to restore her warm blood flow. <span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span> <table class=ooc><tr><td>If you'd like this to end in a hospital, we can plan out another thread, maybe with a character who's a doctor. Just a note, because I don't know where you're going with this. I love it though; you're actually making this plot-y!</td></tr></table>
<span style='color:blue'>Images flooded back to him with crystal clarity. Dumu winced when he saw his sister lying, bleeding. Then he heard her words. Now there was no doubt in his mind pertaining to the fact that she was not stupid, nor was she blind. Also, she sounded as if she was less happy now than earlier. It must've been when he asked if she wanted to hear the rest. He said nothing else that would have triggered a response of that nature. </span> <span style='color:blue'>She requested the whole story; </span>What she wants, she gets. <span style='color:blue'>He told himself. </span><span style='color:black'>Okay, from the start. I never knew my parents. They left Thema and I in the Jungle, where we were raised by someone we refer to as the Master. He taught us everything. He sheltered us, fed us, trained us, everything. I was three; Thema had hardly been born. We underwent serious tests on our abilities, so that we could handle the outside world. Once we had proven we could, we were 'awarded' a stripe. Thema and I grew ours. </span><span style='color:blue'> With his head still turned away, he pointed toward one of the angel white stripes on his head, running down behind his ear, sneaking below the collar of the jacket. He continued, </span><span style='color:black'>For Thema's, she had to build a sturdy dam. But when this all started was when she went for her second stripe. I don't know what she had to do for sure, but, when she came back, she could hardly walk. I had to take Thema with me when I left the Master. However, I promised that I would train her to my level of ability, and in return, she would teach me how to perform telekinesis. I said just now, I left her for a little while, and when I returned she was beaten and bleeding. She was pouring blood from her neck...</span> <span style='color:blue'>Dumu pointed to the location of her bleeding as he spoke; about half way from her collar bone. </span><span style='color:black'>She wasn't breathing, just bleeding. I did what I could, I tried to seal the wound but it wouldn't seal. I did everything. Dressings wouldn't hold, she just bled through them. I had to stop short of putting her into coma. Even that wouldn't have worked. I flew over the area looking for anyone who could help, but there was no one. </span> <span style='color:black'>I got back and she was still there, surrounded by her own blood. The night was drawing in and there was nothing more I could have done. I stayed by her side. Her wound just kept bleeding. I myself was standing in her blood that had made it's way to me. Then, when I thought she was going to leave me, she called my name. For all that blood, she was still conscious. I didn't know how to feel. I felt overjoyed that she was still alive, but distraught that she was bleeding to death, slowly, aware of every drop that left her. She called my name again. I sat down next to her. She looked me straight in the eyes, and asked what was wrong. Those words. Do you know how that must feel? I didn't respond. What should I have said? She asked me again, and again, and again...</span> <span style='color:blue'>Dumu felt angry with himself. In his eyes, he didn't do the right things. </span><span style='color:black'>Hours passed, and she was still alive. She didn't speak anymore, she just called my name with her thoughts. I had to answer her. I asked her, "What do I do?" She was 8. Dying at 8, and the one to whom she always went for help, comfort, loving or simply guidance was asking her what he should do. More time passed and I asked our guardians to replace what she had lost. They said it can be done, but for a price. I agreed to anything, so long as Thema could live her life. Even if it meant I died. </span> <span style='color:blue'>When you recount something, something else happens, doesn't it? It's Murphy's Law, in part. Dumu unrolled the scrolls of his past to Esper, and, maybe to his benefit, the rain pounded harder against the windows. The air around him reflected on what he was saying. All he needed to do, really, was let the air do the talking for him. But seeing as how air can't talk, he continued, </span><span style='color:black'>I did not sleep that night. I stayed at her side. The next morning the ground was covered with her blood. She had lost nearly all of it. I do not lie to you, nor do I exaggerate. She was still alive. I was close to praying for her death, to rid her of her unjust pain. I realized that maybe this was the price. She would remain alive, but unable to move very much. I departed briefly to get her a drink from the waterfall. She drank it without a word. She kept looking at me. Not once did her focus stray. Finally, when the heartache became too much, I had to end her life for her. I'm not a beast. I don't kill unless I have to. Once all other options are defeated then I will kill. I put my hand to her head. With one thought, I could have shut her brain off. I would have, if she hadn't grabbed my arm...</span> <span style='color:blue'>Dumu considered how this must've sounded to Esper. He must have sounded crazy. Nonetheless, she asked to hear it, </span><span style='color:black'> Her first words were, "Why didn't you do anything?" I tried to explain but I knew she wouldn't understand. </span> <span style='color:black'>A few weeks ago, we were in Bhim. She went missing there, even though I watched her wherever she went. I had not trained her to be able to slip out of my sight. Thankfully, soon after I found her with a guy, maybe around twenty years old. He said he was looking after her. I couldn't read his thoughts, but it didn't change the fact I didn't like him. Proceeding this, Thema acted a little odd, wanting to go back to Bhim and walk around. She lied to me, and I could tell. I wouldn't let her go. </span> <span style='color:blue'>Dumu was on auto-pilot now, rattling off the points that were directly related to his purpose there without jazzing them up. Dumu wasn't sure if he was still looking at the table, or if the scenes flashing like a slide show were actually happening. He could see something that resembled a table. Conversely he could depict shapes that matched that of a table. His vision was overrun by thoughts; what and what not to say and how to say it; did he sound crazy? Nevertheless, he persisted in telling Esper what she wanted, </span><span style='color:black'>For a time, she accepted what I said as the best for her. In fact, I couldn't sense otherwise. We planned about a month ago that we would go back to Bhim in a few days, but not initially to see the 'dragon. We had more important business to attend to. She didn't argue with me. Later, she requested that I give her a little more freedom. I considered it, and, because she is my sister, not to mention my only family, I gave her what she wanted. She said she'd be honest with me; she said she was coming here to Watani. That was three weeks ago. I expected her back. When she didn't return, I came here. I was getting essentials for us with the hope she'd be back home. Then this storm hit, and I am here now telling you this.</span> <span style='color:blue'>Dumu's head began to swim with the pressure he had only moments earlier put on himself. Blaming other's for their actions simply wasn't his way. Though, he had to admit, it was a great Burdon lifted from his shoulders. And for that, he was grateful. On the other hand, he cursed himself for converting all that he strived for in how he conducted himself, i.e. personally, quietly, sombrely - into waste. He viewed it as if he had let the world know just how emotionally distressed he was. Between his sister and his way of life, Dumu appeared genuinely stuck. </span> <span style='color:blue'>Dumu sighed. He raised his sparkling, midnight blue eyes to meet her's - he sensed a little fire in them, yet more interest. </span><span style='color:black'>That might be after seeing the necklace...</span><span style='color:blue'> Unless she wanted to know absolutely everything about him, that was as much as he was willing to share, for the time being. Still he hadn't built the sort of trust he would have preferred to be able to say so much. </span> <span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span> <table class=ooc><tr><td>Sorry for the lengthy post ;).</td></tr></table>
Esper drank in his tale, heedless to anything else. The passionate anger that had, for some unknown reason, welled up deep within her hot-pink form was now completely extinguished by the torrent of Dumu's words. They poured in upon her ears, engulfing her in his history. She wondered about this "master", what he'd done to Thema and Dumu, how exactly he'd attained that pure-as-alabaster stripe along his neck. Then in the next phase of the story she listened quizically, sympathetically, to the pain she knew Dumu must've felt over Thema's injury. Her neck. Why does that ring a bell? What does that-- but her thought was cut off by the dark male's next bit of his story. It seemed he'd helped her; the loyalty he felt towards her was so real she felt she could almost touch it. She was a bit confused, however, over one part of the story: how had Thema finally healed? How had the two pulled through her attack? But she kept silent, knowing there was a huge weight on his head. He's got to just get it all out. She was particularly quiet during the bit about Bhim. She'd never been there herself, but wondered what kind of shit he'd got into to be going there for 'business'. But okay, whatever... Once he had reached the section of his yarn about Thema's involvement with the older male, her teeth clicked into a grimace. Like hell that's going to end in the vicinity of well. Her ears pricked all-the-more and she shivered, knowing that Thema's insolent youth could be her undoing. Was it sex she wanted from Bhim's younger adults? Was it drugs? Was it drinks, or parties, or a place to stay? Was it rebellion from her brother's watchful stare? Or could it be the thrill of independence--? Thirteen fucking years old. He's got it rough. He does seem quite protective, though... She shrugged, and leaned her elbows on the chair arm, cupping her chin in her sharp-clawed hands. Her face was one of pure curiosity now, though the tips of her bleached canines peeked down past her lips. A tiny golden star glimmered from one fang, on which she'd fused it. The rain on the windows cast oozing raindrop reflections upon her fur. When Dumu finally finished his long-winded tale, Esper reached forward and patted his arm, to let him know she'd heard him. The first sound from her lips, despite the circumstances, was a rueful chuckle. "I never thought you'd talk that much, she said afterwards and then laughed, though in a sad way. "Okay, so what I get from this is... you've lived alone with your sister in the Jungle since you two were tiny. But this... this GUY, the 'master' as you call him, taught you everything and ran you guys through tests and training... and you trusted him. Then she goes out to build a dam, and comes back, hurt and bleeding by the throat." She winced at her own words then. "The blood just keeps flowing and you can't stop it, however hard you try. And you DO try-- try in every way, stopping short only of ending her misery with death. And you would've-- but I understand it's only out of humanity, not viciousness or defeat-- but she stopped you. She stopped you, and so you couldn't bear it to attempt it again. And... she heals somehow... And then you make a few trips to Bhim. On the first she associates with some ass who's about seven years your senior. And then on the second she asks for some freedom and ends up never--" she placed stress on the latter word "--comes home." After having finished her summary of what she understood, she picked up her kyvvaa cup and took a swig of the cold liquid, gritting her teeth at the nasty flavour. Then she placed it down, laced her fingers, and stared off into space for a moment. Then her amber gaze became more alert and snapped back to Dumu. "I," she said sympathetically, "Am so sorry. Sorry about this whole mess. And in fact--" her voice became fiery and assertive now-- "I feel so sorry that we--" she prodded herself fiercely in the chest between her breasts and then prodded Dumu in the arm, just to make herself clear "--are going to Bhim." She let those last words settle in for a moment, looking at him with a slightly commanding air. "I know I've just met you, but I somehow can tell... that you're in it for her. For me. Not for yourself or some desire or bent of your own (and believe me, too many guys are like that), but really for your sister's well-being. And that, my dear, is why we're buying three portal tickets, two round-trip, and the other one-way, to Bhim," she said, making it clear by her tone that the one-way ticket was for Thema's homecoming. "And once this storm gets a little better, the second we can, we'll go to my place and get my bird and some stuff for the trip. Because time is of the essence. It really is." Her gaze turned steely, daring him to say 'no' to her master plan.
<span style='color:blue'>Dumu finished with a long forgotten sigh. He ran through his mind to see if he hadn't excluded vital points, but, after not discovering any, he sighed again. The once vivid images were now ebbing away gradually like the headlights of a car during a misty day. He could hear her words, but, unfortunately, his sister's words were taking priority, replaying themselves annoyingly; heartbreakingly. Dumu knew he was still looking at 'Sper, but not entirely certain if he had broken gaze. Mentally shaking it all off, he snapped his eyes shut to reopen them to Esper's face. </span><span style='color:gray'>"I feel so sorry that we--are going to Bhim."</span> <span style='color:blue'>She seemed to come off topic a little, only to complete her sentence authoritatively. </span><span style='color:black'>She knows what she's doing.</span><span style='color:blue'> The trust he needed before doing anything else had come into existence, and now shouted out to him. He glanced down at his arm when she prodded him then back up to her. A fraction more of a smile crept along his face. Indeed, she was going to help him. In its entirety, Dumu was overcome by reprievement. </span><span style='color:gray'>"And once this storm gets a little better, the second we can, we'll go to my place and get my bird and some stuff for the trip."</span> <span style='color:blue'>Her willingness to assist him came as a great surprise; he'd never have expected anyone to believe his past, considering all the contradictions in it. Esper had made up her mind and nothing neither he nor anyone else could do would change that. So, he nodded supportively of the instruction, as it was, </span><span style='color:black'>I tried to warn her earlier. I don't want her hurt because of me.</span><span style='color:blue'> He scorned himself like he always did, just to get himself into the right mindset. The coat she gave him was absorbing the water from his pelt rapidly, like it did for her. A feeling of guilt struck when he looked at her sitting there without it, not to mention with the kyvvaa she apparently detested. Thinking it through, Dumu hadn't done much in return for her hospitality. The bartender never stopped cleaning the glasses around him. Maybe, so that he may have something other than the rain and lightning to think about, Dumu rose to his feet and approached the bar. A couple of the 'dragons there eyed Dumu up and down; he towered over them and more than filled out the coat. Leaning across the counter, </span><span style='color:black'>Do you have a warm meal? A stew or soup?</span> <span style='color:blue'>All the time, Dumu remained wary that Passinaz could come out of the back after hearing his voice. The bartender acknowledged him and signalled for a second. Moments later, with the 'dragons around Dumu a tad disgruntled, he took the quaint, ceramic bowel filled to the brim with a steaming, yet sweet smelling meat soup. The bartender plonked a spoon in it as he walked away. </span> <span style='color:blue'>'Sper was right, they would be there for a while at the least. To pay her back in the short run he bent over in front of her and placed the bowel down in the middle of the table, suggesting in a "Hungry?" way. The spoon was pointing towards her; he had deliberately done so but he wasn't telling her to have any. Dumu changed from his original seating, coincidently closer to 'Sper. The warm leather reminded him of just how comfortable it was there. </span><span style='color:black'>Is this what they have in their homes? Luxury upholstery? I'm no city person, but I prefer this to rock or mud. </span><span style='color:blue'>Dumu's thoughts were becoming more free, criticising what he had grown up with. Was it the overly friendly gesture she had made on a whim? He wasn't sure. Even his normally formal posture lacked a bit, slipping into the wells in the back of the couch. Dumu peered out the corner of his eyes at her to see what she would say or do in response, then averted his vision toward the liquid-sheathed windows, rattling violently; he wondered if they'd buckle underneath the tremendous force pounding against them. However, for his expected day-dreaming, they withstood all that was thrown upon them. Dumu waited for the very second the weather would yield. Just for a moment.</span>
Esper was satisfied now that he'd agreed to travel to Bhim. Only once did the thought go through her head that she was doing something stupid, and only because she'd just met Dumu, not because of the relative base stupidity of what she was getting herself into. True, she was planning to go clubbing, pierce her tongue, and apply for a job at NSOCS... but sure, if she liked Dumu, why not help him with all she had? It was this sort of impulsiveness that made Esper's life both interesting and rather dangerous at times. She always went on whatever opportunity presented itself, paying no heed to the particulars as long as her instinct told her it was all right. And that was what she had done now: there just seemed to be a spark of excitement in the day (or, when the lightning had struck, somewhat more than a spark), and to kindle that fire, she'd told Dumu they were going to Bhim. And that they were. Esper was so lost in her own thoughts now that she barely noticed Dumu rise and walk towards the counter. She was busy tracing a haphazard pattern in the water droplets that Dumu'd shed on the table, and thinking about Telbaj. I hope the little chickie's all right, she thought fondly of her bird. I'mma have to take her with me to Bhim, of course. But Esper had no doubt that the Varsinid would be well-behaved on the trip; the bird seemed to always know when to keep her energy in check. Besides, whenever Esper was around there wasn't worrying to be had, for the bird's loyalty to 'Sper was only second to the pink femme's own loyalty to her avian companion. So what else am I going to have to take? There seemed to be a necessity for clothes; they would most likely be staying in a hotel for a night or two if they couldn't ascertain Thema's location right away. Esper regretfully acknowledged that she'd probably need to carry her boning knife with her, though she was reluctant to carry a weapon on her person. But if anything she'd heard about Bhim was near correct, it was a rough country at best. A country in which anarchy was considered an honorable form of government. Though Esper had her suspicions about the Council being corrupt, she hardly thought Ramath-Lehi would benefit from worldwide chaos and lawlessness. Not that the police did much in the major cities. Bhim, for one, was absolutely filled with crime, vampires, illegal weapons, shady deals, and of course a wide array of drugs and the grungy goths that accompanied them. Watani, for another, while civil and considered a decent place to bring up children, was filled with pendragon bloodlines so wealthy and well-connected she'd no doubt that they could do just about whatever they liked, free to throw down some silver or pull an ancient string here or there to get the police off their tails. But all the same, there was a definite need for some authority among the continents, to hold them together (however haphazardly and badly) beneath one ruling family. The Graders-- But her train of thought was cut off, then, by a glassy thunk upon the table before her. There was a steaming bowl of soup there, garnished with Julgiahzdn and Fusaj Kjatt both. It was a stew, she saw, so the base was thickened, but not with the gluey texture of flour. Rather, it had been strengthened with a base of Uorojm Kyma paste, or so she thought when she smelled it. The Julgiahzdn added an oriental, sweet aroma to the otherwise peppery and meaty scents provided by the Fusaj, the Kyma, and the stew itself. Looking up at Dumu, she smiled, and quickly noticed that he'd pointed the handle of the spoon toward her. Again. I'm not an invalid, she thought, exasperated. No sooner had he sat down then she stood up, walking over to the counter and requesting another empty bowl and spoon. Once the tend had produced them, she nodded and carried them over to Dumu, placing them down before him. Quickly she poured half the food into his bowl, watching the steam curl up into the cool air. "There you go," she said with a quick quirk of her lips. And she grasped her chair, wrenching it around so it faced the table and him. With a happy sigh she settled down to the seat, scooping up one spoonful of the dark reddish-brown stuff and placing it between her lips. Her mouth watered considerably. Watani was famous, of course, for its posh lifestyle, but the food truely did live up to that assumption. The stew was creamy and thick, and tasted sweet and yet savory at the same time. She felt a chunk of Kyma melt between her teeth, followed by the crunch of a Tsuj Faap pod. Another spoonful filled her mouth with amazingly tender, soft pieces of Kyf meat. "This is great," she told Dumu. "Just great. Thanks." In no time she was finished with the bowl; about seven minutes later found her with a chunk of stale bread, sopping up the last of the liquid. The hard crust of the sourdough loaf crunched between her razor-sharp, small teeth. "Did you like yours?" she asked, her sentence punctuated around the time she uttered the word "like" with a slamming crash of thunder which made her hackles rise. She made an uncomfortable "Ch-ch-ch" sound, and then settled back against her chair to nibble at the breadcrust with slightly less appetite than before. "You know, Dumu, I think we should leave while we still can. Get to my house and then into the magicka tunnels before the storm gets worse." She looked at the windows. There hadn't been a flash of lightning since around the time when Dumu had told his story. That, surely, was good enough. And Esper really did need to change her clothes, pack some new ones, and grab Telbaj before leaving. Perhaps she had some old ones for Dumu... "Yeah. Would it be all right if we payed and then leaved... pretty soon?" she asked, putting the floury, stale crust into her bowl and looking at him. Her gaze was broken by quick glances toward the window, as if she expected lightning to flash if she was not staring at the sky.
<span style='color:blue'>The sound of the stew flowing into another bowl drew his attention. Indeed, Esper had poured a considerable amount from her's to his. Dumu dismissed any questions as to why, rather, he picked up the spoon from the side of the bowel, took up the sweetly scented stew and rolled it down his throat. The stew burned him as it passed, releasing all of its hidden textures. This meal had to be the first hot thing he had eaten in years. Mainly he was forced to live off natures bounty; now and again getting meat from neighbouring tribes. </span> <span style='color:blue'>The hearty meal, although now divided into two, still packed a filling punch. Dumu got about half way down the bowel when he finally felt the side effects. His mouth throbbed from the high temperature and with every breath afterwards he billowed scented vapour. Uncertain if he was able to finish at all, he continued, refusing to want to show he ate enough. He took this opportunity to consume a meal he had not seen for a very long time. Eventually, he was scraping the remaining stew from the bottom of the bowel. That one persistent Tsuj Faap pod clung to the edges so reluctantly, he gave up pursuing it, setting the ornately crafted, upper class silver spoon down in his ceramic dish. He looked up at her and saw that she had finished well in front of him, thusly, leading him to assume she had observed him tuck in. He cocked his head to the other side this time, and speaking in a way only he can do, </span><span style='color:black'>No. Thank you. </span><span style='color:blue'>He couldn't help but think he was being too formal and polite considering the area in which he found himself, as well as the company with whom he found himself conversing. All the same, he thought that maybe changing slightly mightn't cause any difficulties more worrying than he already had to deal with. </span> <span style='color:blue'>Other than the initial downpour nothing else seemed to happen. This was the moment for which they both waited patiently. Fleetingly, Dumu looked out of the window through the liquid crust forming hastily. The sky swelled heavily, ready to burst at the seams again if they didn't move swiftly, appearing as though it was calling their bluff. Dumu extended one arm to her dishes and stacked them in one another, shoving them to one side of the table neatly. Steadily, pushing off the table, he stood up gesturing to Esper they had to go now. He kept the focus out the window, judging how long it would be before it returned to its vicious self - they had a short while, long enough if they walked quickly. He stretched one arm out to the brass handle of the door, clicking it right he opened it. The gale-force winds battered against the wooden panes, shuddering the door against his control. Dumu seized that two ends of the coat together, zipping them up to just above his chest. It wouldn't go any further, but it would have to do. The 'dragons at the bar hunched over, sneering at the culprit for the sudden interruption. Dumu wasn't put off by their spiteful glares. He glanced over his shoulder to Esper as he took a large step outside. </span> <span style='color:blue'>The all too familiar water felt as though it had its chance at another victim. Seemingly changing course from its pointless attempt at breaking down the windows, it hurled itself at him with diabolical intent. He held the door partially open for her, stopping the storm from invading the pub and seeking out more innocent people. Dumu tilted his head forward to shield his eyes from suffering the brunt of the cataclysmic rage all around him for a second time. Inconceivable, yet true, a couple were running as fast as they could to a nearby building. It was unclear, but Dumu thought he could make out a man and his daughter, or she could have been his very young wife. When they were close, the man was hurtled off his feet into the middle of the road. Through dripping eyelids, Dumu considered helping the man up. Then he remembered he didn't need to move from his current position. He lifted his hand calmly, and, as he did, the man rose to his feet; the rain reflecting off Dumu's telekinetic grasp; and placed next to the building and his (assuming for now) daughter. They were both amazed at what had just happened before their eyes; though Dumu made sure they didn't know who had helped him. He wasn't looking for publicity in any way, shape or form. </span>
