<span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span> <table class='ooc'><tr><td>Timestamp: Mia, 81380 Who: Mella Wearing: multiple layers of sweatshirts, jeans and no shoes Notes: This role-play is private for me and Deathfire</td></tr></table> Mella looked around her in the closed off courtyard. Everything was so big! Not that she wasn't small, but still even if she had been tall everything would have been big... and white too. She walked some more, actually it was a bit more like hopping from patch of cold grass to patch of colder grass, but Mella didn't mind. She was going to this 'school' everyone had been telling her about. She had also heard something about taking language classes. She stuck her tongue out at the thought. She didn't like talking and if they gave her enough time she could say what she wanted to. She found a bench to sit on and she did so. She looked around at all the other 'dragons. She had never seen any with fur on them, it was a strange sight to her, although it was nothing considered to the ones with wings or the ones with more arms or tails or feathers. She saw a 'dragon walk by and she had wings that looked kind of odd. Some lyrics came to mind. ...Rip out the wings of a butterfly... <span style='color:orange'>But-er-f-ly</span> She said to herself, sounding out the word as it played over and over again in her head. Pleased with herself she began to half-sing, half-chant the word under her breath until she looked across the courtyard and saw something glint in the sun. She picked herself up off the bench and scuttled over to the shine. She made a wide circle behind the scaly 'dragon that she mentally identified as one of her kind and came up behind her. She put one hand on her shoulder and looked over it at what she was tinkering with. <span style='color:orange'>Goooooold</span> She said in that slightly insane voice of hers.
When she felt the hand and heard the voice, she tumbled forward, clutching her small metal scrap thing aganst her chest. She turned her head around and hissed. Ara, then looking around noticed she wasn't suposed to be here, she hated the big school that loomed over the place. She then looked at Mella and said "<span style='color:purple'>What is a takula doing here? Don't they hate us being here be cause of how tall we get?</span>" That thought had hit her when she saw all the pendragons and no scaly takula. And another thing she realised was. "<span style='color:purple'>Wow, I'm cold</span>" <span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span> <table class='ooc'><tr><td>Sorry for the wait, and shortness.</td></tr></table>
Mella listened as the other girl spoke. She nodded once and then shrugged. She had understood the girl just fine, but she didn't know what to say. She noticed that she was shivering and she took off the top sweatshirt, that was much too big for her, coming down to a few inches past her knees and then handed it over to the other takula. <span style='color:orange'>Gold?</span> Mella inquired as she held out the sweatshirt, as though one was an exchange for the other. She moved her head back and forth and stood on tiptoe trying to get any possible angle that would make it so that she could see what the girl had been working on.
The thing she was working on was mottled with gold pieces. She watched the girl hold out the coat, and she figured to give her the, 'invetion', although it did nothing. She held out her metal item, and waited for her to take it so she could grab the coat. She figured by the way the girl acted that she wasn't very civalized, then again she grew up with some farmers. "<span style='color:purple'>Did you have a tribe?</span>" she said slowly, as if talking to a small child.
Mella gave the other Takula the sweatshirt so quickly that she seemed to throw it at her before grabbing the piece of metal and turning it over in her claws and scrutinizing it. Without looking up she processed the girls question and then answered. <span style='color:orange'>Mella gotssssss a triiiiiiiiiiibe</span> She said, refering to herself in the third person and trying to keep her words as intelligable as possible. Mella contined to turn over the metal in her claws, admiring the shine in it, but also trying to figure out what it did. <span style='color:orange'>This blasted mechanism won't work!</span> she sang in her higher voice, repeating lyrics that she had heard on the radio when she was coming to Janarden.
