+ Lucid +

<span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span>
<table class=ooc><tr><td> For Morven, but anyone can join, just ask meh fist, okkies?

Mia 42. 81379 </td></tr></table>


Ever had one of those nightsÂ… where you wake up and canÂ’t get back to sleep, even though you really want to? ThereÂ’s that lonely, creepy feeling you get knowing youÂ’re the only one awake in a building filled with thousands. You can hear your roommate nearby, snoring loudly, and the sound rips through the quiet like gunshots.

Yeah, Tesreail was having one of those nights. Turmoil seemed to be able to sleep through everything, even Tes stumbling in the dark as he kicked off his pajama pants and pulled on his daytime attire. Black jeans, missing knees, and a tight black long-sleeved shirt. It took a few extra moments to tighten each arm belt attached to the sleeves, cinching them all until they forced the material close against his skin. He paused, hand lingering over his hoodie, fingers hovering over the thick black material. It was dark out. He could get away without wearing it this once. Normally, Tesreail wore it all the time; it acted as a barrier between him and the outside world. Abandoning the garment, Tes moved on. Instead he chose a large red and black jacket, on that reached down ankles, tucking it under his arm.

He carefully unlocked a heavy box hidden just under his bed. Flipping it open, he reverently lifted a leather-bound journal from the bowels of the container, sliding it into his nearby messenger bag. Soon as his precious journal was safely tucked away, he rummaged around for a few extra items. Two wristbands, one studded and one plain leather, a silver ankh on a thin chain, and a small chain-mesh choker were put on, then the box closed and pushed back under the bed. Hooking his bags strapped over his shoulder and grabbing his keys, Tes silently crept from the room, locking the door behind him.

The halls were quiet, save for the hum of the fluorescent lights overhead. The janitor had been by, it was evident from the small piles of dirt and junk in neat piles along the halls. He r she couldnÂ’t be that far off, if they had left the piles unattended here. Quickly, and as quietly as he could, Tesreail jogged down the hall and through the stairwell, exiting the building as fast as he could. Outside it was chilly, but protected by the wind by the school buildings. Tesreail tugged on his jacket, pulling a black and white striped wool beanie from his pocket and putting it on.

The courtyard was quiet as the grave, lonely and desolate in the moon and starlight. Not that that fact bothered him; Tesreail had done this many times before. Selecting the nearest tree, a sturdy old thing, with large branches perfect for sitting, he scaled the trunk. Creeping out along a thick branch, Tes leaned back against the trunk and sighed. It was beautiful; the snow luminous, clean, and white. Like a blank canvas. Soon as morning came, the trampling feet of the student populace would soil its pristine blankness. Sighing softly, Tes smiled to himself, warm and cozy in the folds of his thick coat.

 

Not much could be obsevered from where he was situated, not much at all. One would think that if you're going to head out, either during the day or later at night; you might as well choose a spot that held at least a small point of interest other then choosing one that lead you no-where. Tonight, was a particularly bad night for Morven. The pendragon let out a low rumble as he settled down into a comfortable position next to a courtyard wall, stretching his rear-legs out so his rear paws would rest against the corner of the walls, whilst his plantigrade'd anthro fore-paws were crossed over each other; supporting his chin. His dark green eyes stared fixatedly at one of the centre-pieces of the yard, any light that was there had illuminated the irisis; resulting in the usual silvery/white glow that occurs in most animals when a light source was shone in to their eyes. For instance, say a cat's.

The remainder of today's night-time escapades would've ended as a rather boring trip, and a waste of his time that seemed to never run out, if it was not for the sudden arrival of a new indivudal. Morven watched the anthropomorphic 'dragon as he had crept silently from a previously undiscovered doorway off to the side somewhere, out of his range of vision; and move across the yard, up into a tree.His large, triangular ears pricked forward with interest, slowly sitting up into crouched, his attention now totally focused on Tesreail. "Well, what do you know.. There is life here.." was his exact thoughts as he sat there, now trying to figure out a decision on what he should now, seeing as the situation has changed drastically.

Slowly, he started to get up on all fours; trying his best not to attract Tes' attention with his movements or any noise that he made make in the process. Any light that the fronima flame at the end of his tail may make, was mostly obscured by his slightly unfurled wings; so even then, no-one would really notice that there was a pendragon lounging around in a corner. Morven kept close against the wall to his right, trying to circle up and behind the tree where the other pendragon was resting, closing his wings further against his flanks and back; so as not to disrupt the peaceful lack of noise with any ruffling that would be caused from the membranes scraping against the wall's surface.

 

<span style='color:#66718E'>
Sketch stared desprately at the clock. It read 3:04. If she wasn't mistaking, time had just gone backwards. She was sure that not a moment ago the incandescent red numbers, providing the only dim light in her room said 3:05. Or had it been a 2? You can never tell with digital numbers. They were not to be trusted.

Frusterated, Sketch tried to bury her face in her pillow but only inhaled a big whif of dust and dust-mites. For an unknown reason, the image of hundred of little insects flying up her nasal cavity seemed vividly disgusting, sending a wave of nausea upon her. In an instant she ran to her tiny bathroom, fumbled for the light, and flipped up the toilet lid. She prepared to regurgitate her dinner, but soon the sensation passed and she collapsed on the floor, realizing that she had missed the light, and instead hit the fan, which sounded like a dying wildebeest. With shaky delicacy she turned the fan off and light on, and peered at herself in the mirror. Her own reflection shocked her. Her face seemed to have gotten remarkably thin and bony, and her fur was less radiant as it had been only a few years before. She was only in her twenties, and age shouldnt be on her mind yet. Sighing loudly, she peered at her thin hands which matched the rest of her appearance. Holding one paw up to her face, she could see she was now shaking violently. She couldnt take it anymore. Throwing open the medicine cabninet, she snatched a small lableless brown bottle, and struggled with the cap. When sucess was finally hers, she peered down at about a dozen multicolored pills. LMT. Her own creation, after years of studying text books, formulas and tables. In her gut, she knew that she was killing herself. Digging her own grave. But anything was better than withdrawl. /Maybe just one/ she thought to herself. /To help me sleep/. And so from the bottle she tapped out two, a pink one and green one, each stamped with her own mark of an "s". Without looking directly at her reflection, she carefully placed the bottle onto the narrow shelf and flicked the light off. Falling facefirst into her mattress, Sketch still felt mildly sick, but knew that everything would soon be alright. She closed her eyes now, and looked into the neverending blackness.
After a moment, her eyes flickered back open. The red digits on the clock read 4:12, and she suddenly felt her blood racing. Sitting up perfectly straight, Sketch felt a grin come across her face, and she walked to her closet. Forget sleeping. Tossing her pyjamas into a heap in the corner, she pulled from her shelf a pair of faded pink cordoroy pants. Perfect for her mood. She pulled them up rigidly, a stupid smile still blazing on her thin maw. She looked through the endless rack of t-shirts, and finally selected a simple black low-neck t.
Anxiously tying a black choker necklace around her neck, she examined her reflection once more. Her pupils had grown to the size of quarters, leaving only a tiny rim of gold. On a normal day she would have sat afront the mirror applying makeup for half an hour, but not today. She thought she looked gorgeous just naturally. Grabbing a black wool overcoat and her keys, she walked from her tiny apartment, locking the door with great difficulty. Everything seemed too bright, but she liked it. And so she was free. The night was in its prime and it was all hers. She could go anywhere, do anything. She was once more invincible.

Deep in her pocket of her coat she felt the stiff square shape that connoted the prescence of her notebook. Good. Today seemed like a day to write some literature. Topics? Who knows? Society, love, famine, turtles? The possibilities were endless. The courtyard stood just around the block, and was a generally peaceful place. Pehaps she could go have a nice time. For a moment the thought that one should not have so much fun alone crossed her mind, but was quickly diminished as she watched the trees around her streach upwards to the azure sky, swaying slyly in the shadows. The grass seemed to craw as if it were not blades, but rather thousands of tiny caterpillars all interweaving each other. The sidewalk, on closer inspection, had broken up into thousands of tiny puzzle pieces, each a slightly different shape and tone. Once she managed to pull herself away from the intriguing facts of nature, she saw ahead of her, two figures. They were not together. There was a male, dressed entirely in black in the open, and another winged figure seemingly hiding in the shadow of a tree. Sketch almost laughed, as the mental picture of an old cartoon of a dragon running behind a tree and dissapearing entirely came to her mind. Her hindsight told her that she was in no condition to talk to anyone, but her active mind wanted to befriend them both. After several seconds of consideration, she decided to approach the dragon in the open, only because he stood closer to her. And a step not taken was a calorie not burned that she could in turn use for something more fun, like thinking about pineapples. They really were wonderful fruit. As she walked to the figure, she passed by the other hidden dragon. /Dont worry, friend/ she thought. /I'll get to you soon enough/

When Sketch was within about 10 feet, she called out to the person.
"Hey!" Without waiting for a reaction, she continued to descend. Her mind was running on pure love, and did not think of the long learned law that all hatchlings are taught. Never talk to strangers.</span>
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If there was going to be one thing that could exceptionally change this event, would be if another pendragon introduced him or herself into this dilema. So of course, it happened.

The second that Morven sensed the presence of yet another creature who had just stumbled into the area, he froze. He wasn't sure what it was, but after the creature had made it's way further into the center of the court-yard; only then, did he realise that it was another pendragon. Losing all collected interest that was previously focused on the figure in the tree, he was now suspiciously watching the new-comer. Although as it turned out, that 'dragonette did something that he really did not expect her to do. She had actually moved closer to his side of the wall halfway through her meanderings to the tree and the first 'dragon student. Almost instantaneously, he received her telepathic message, which was something to do about his hiding location; and that she had something else planned at the moment.

Being the only quadruped dragon in the immediate area, Morven felt quite... well, it was just really a bundle of mixed feelings and emotions. He didn't feel inferior without the added bonsues of clothing, bipedal movement, humanoid figure, etc.. But it was much better in certain situations such as this, to be a quadru then to be plantigrade; otherwise you can't really hide yourself that obviously in some corner.

He had several options available to him. He could either just stay where he is right now, and wait to see how Tes would react to the both of them. Or, he could try and sneak off, at least trying not to be seen by anyone else. As there were no obstacles or boundaries that he had to go by, Morven relucantly chose the first option: stay and see what'll happen.

{...Fine, but I don't have much of a choice to begin with..}

Morven shifted around to face the duo's backs, unfurling his wings so the fingers were extended slightly so they blocked any access to his sides and front, but in no way did they cover his view of anything that was directly infront of him. He curled his long tail up and around his fore-paws, the flame's colour merging from the natural base colour of firebrick-reds, into different shades of slate greys. This was his personal fronima theme to show whenever he was feeling cautious, and discomfort.

 

<span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span>
<table class=ooc><tr><td> Okkies, new posting order goes: me. bat, then morven. That's a beautiful post bat. ^^ </td></tr></table>


Tesreail sighed softly, eyes glancing up to the velvet sky above him. His hand crept to the bag at his side; fingers slowly grasping the zipper pull of his pin adorned bag. Slowly, almost absent-mindedly, the metal teeth slid apart, and a reverently gentle hand slipped into its concealing folds. A slightly beaten up journal, bound in smooth black leather, was plucked from the bag’s recesses. With a great air of gentle love, he ran his finger over the glossy cover, worn smooth as silk by constant use. The leather creaked softly as he opened the book, the pages falling to the last place he had opened it (just one of the many enchantments on his journal). Written on the crisp white pages was a small paragraph; notes he had taken during his last Dark Sorcery class. They were one the use of fronima to move objects out of the sorcerer’s sight, something that seemed more like telekinesis to Tes, but used a different power source. Quickly reviewing what he had written, he mentally prepared himself for what he was about to do. Leaning back against the trunk, he became so engrossed in his quazi-meditation, that he did not notice the presence of the other two ‘dragon’s in the courtyard.

Searching through his mind, he pulled up a familiar image; a small wood and wire mesh cage, off in the corner away from its larger duplicates. Inside, a small avian huddled on a log perch suspended between the walls, sharp eyes fluttering open as another presence made contact with its mind. The sleek hawk, for Araciel was a being known as a trisk, ruffled his feathers and glared at the door. Tes’ magic, using Araciel as a ‘mirror’ to focus and concentrate power on the lock, began to focus on the tiny mechanisms of it’s inner workings. The tiny padlock shuddered, and then popped open with a dull click. The alert hawk, in touch with his masters will, launched from his perch and flung himself at the door, talons grasping the mesh tightly. The force of the small birds impact was just sufficient to rattle the cage; the padlock clattered free and the door swung ajar. Araciel unhooked his talons from the door and pushed off, wings beating the dusty air of the mews. Pale plumage gleamed in the light as he burst through a window that had been left partially open, and into a winter wonderland. The avian let out a shrill scream at the sight of two unfamiliar pendragons so close to his master. Instinct decreed that he throw himself at the nearest one, talons and beak seeking to rip and tear; the more powerful urge that was Tes’ instructions overwhelmed nature, and the irate bird fluttered into the tree’s branches, alighting on a branch just at head level with Tesreail.

Tesreail gasped softly, snapping fully back into his body. The fatigue hit him instantly; it felt as though he had just been forced to run five miles through thick mud, then beat with sacks full of wet sand. Tes grasped in vain at the trunk behind him as he lost his balance, reeling from the shock. His eyes rolled back in his head, and the young arden plummeted to the ground. He landed with a small thump in the snowdrift at the base of the tree, head pounding and vision clouding into black. Above him, he heard the oddly distant shriek of a startled trisk, and then everything went black.

 

<span style='color:#66718E'>
In the midst of perfect ecstasy, Sketch felt her mind falter. Ahead of her time seemed to slow to a stop, glowing with a surreal hellish glow. As if smudged by the fingers of a godly child, everything except her focus point, the morbid looking dragon, blurred and swirled together. Not so much as visually becoming unclear, but more towards being generally unaware of it. Against the rosy background the figure seemed to sharpen and intensify. From behind her, sketch could hear the whispering of a thousand different stories, opinions and love songs, all intermittent with each other in an overwhelming gusty tone. Her epitome of happiness was now diminished, as she became so intent on this person. She had experienced this sort of thing ever time she met a new person, while in the right... mind set? Even on sober days, sometimes she felt that she could see "into" people. But today, something was different. More, urgent maybe.

Suddenly, the image of the dragon exploded into a billion hues tones and shades of colour, scattering randomly around the scene, like dandelion seeds blown free by the wind. After a moment they began to rearrange themselves into the profile of a raptor. Gold and orange wings stretched out ridiculously exaggerated and pumped with a deep sound like a heartbeat. Is vibrant eyes blazed like a tiny inferno, filled to remarkable depth with indescribable emotion. The hawk like soul began to fly straight at sketch, yet never seemed to grow any closer, but as she stared into its tortured eyes, the fire that shone from deep inside its skull flickered and began to grow dim with an almost ultramarine blue amongst the vivid reds. Then like the situation had been unplugged by a ghostly hand, the light darkened and the world faded to black and hazy grey, transforming the bird to the weathered stone of a gargoyle. The whispered thoughts stopped dead, replaced by two simple syllables. Help me. Sketch blinked and the world returned to its normal form, or as normal as it could appear in her current state. The hawk, as well as the dragon had vanished. After a moment, she realised that the dragon had not disappeared, but collapsed. Sketch hurried to his side. The dragons shapely crimson face looked worried, which was very strange as most unconscious people’s muscles relax, but for the first time that she had seen, sketch was positive that his forehead was wrinkled into a look of pain and sadness. Quickly Sketch fell to her knees to check for pulse. To her surprise, the dragon’s neck was scattered with thin scars, criss-crossing every which way. Pushing her questions aside, Sketch pressed her fingers just to the right of the creature’s windpipe and found that he did in fact have a pulse, and it was pounding at an alarming rate.

Obviously she could not leave the dragon here, but something told her that she was less in need of a hospital and more of something more spiritual. On an average day, Sketch would not have persued the help of the blood-red male farther than this, but in the midst of her high, she felt an unbreakable emotional bond between them, and felt there was much to learn from him. At once, she knew she had to get him somewhere inside. Her apartment. It was barely a block from here, but she could not carry him alone. Then she remembered that of course, she was not alone. Spinning around, almost off-balance, she surveyed the courtyard for the other dragon. Behind the tree where he had previously stood there was now and unrecognisable leather-wrapped shadow. Had she not seen him earlier, she would never have known it to be another dragon. It seemed he’d wrapped himself in his wings, and she had to admit it a convincing disguise. However, what the commoner would not notice was the small shimmer of an eye, peering from inside the shadow, blinking occasionally. He was watching her. She had no time to be creeped-out, for she desperately needed his help to carry the unconscious casualty. Without another moment of debate, she bounded towards the dragon, feeling the stupid grin reappear on her lips. It was such an unfortunate situation, yet the thrill of an emergency situation made her feel alive and purposeful. She wished she could feel this optimistic at all times. However, she could think about that later.
Without warning, she leaped upon the winged lurker, pinning him to the ground. To her surprised the tu-toned lupine figure was quadruped, a form not commonly seen in these parts. After a moment of gawking, Sketch switched to friendly mode and introduced herself. She knew that she was still, for lack of a better expression, fucked out of her mind, and knew her pupils were still huge, but did not care. She stared at his face and watched the grey and white scale-fur swirl and rearrange itself, like a parade of well-trained ants. She decided the hallucinogenic part of this drug was a bit too powerful. It was the green pills that were the worst. She would have to keep that in mind for the next batch she made. But suddenly, she snapped back into reality.

Before letting him speak, she explained that her friend over here had collapsed and she needed his help to carry him for a couple blocks. She thought nothing of his shocked expression and lack of reply, but took his paw and led him awkwardly on three paws over to the fallen comrade.
Whether or not he would comply, she would have to wait and see.
</span>

 

What he saw before him, was something that he had never watched before; even though he did not personally know what Tesreail had done exactly, he did know that it was of something that had a magick aspect to it. Morven did not know much about this type of sorcery, especially the Dark Sorcery class. Hesitant, he stayed right where he was, whilst he watched the darker draconic-lupine collapsed amongst the tree branches, his muscles looking like they're just relaxing after a long time of steady balance and such, but only for the 'dragon to fall out of the tree gracelessly. He had ignored the avian from the moment it arrived, but up until now did he turn his attention towards it; not liking it's presence at all. With scruffy ears swivelling back, a slight adjustment of his wings; moving enough so the creature could see him more easily, he raised his hackles only briefly; letting out a sharp hiss in warning, letting him know that he was not pleased with it's quick assumption of him. Wings falling back into their place again, Morven looked back to the other pendragon, to see how she had reacted to the latest addition to their little group.

As Morven watched her tend to the unconcious 'dragon, he settled back into more of an upright posture, his wings still wrapped protectively about him as he tried to peer over from where he was so far away; turning his lupine head this way and that, desperately trying to see what the hell she was doing. As he had not had much experience with other individuals who felt comfortable with him being around, either treating him as just 'another person in the background', or more with an aggressive nature to their actions with him, like he's an outsider that should be treated like an inferior and no belonging anywhere. Failing his attempt at figuring out why Sketch was sitting so close to Tes, and doing what, he remained where he was. If they; or more correctly, she, didn't want him to help, then he wouldn't do anything to help them.

Startingly, as the female 'dragon had intended, he was suddenly twisted around onto his back, being held pinned to the ground for some reason that he was not yet, aware of. He had let out an alarmed yelp from that unexpected 'attack'. Morven wriggled side-to-side underneath the anthropomorphic-ized 'dragon, not aiming to do any damage directed at her; which he could've done quite easily if he chose to unsheath his feline-esque claws and shove them up into her belly; but he only wanted to get away from the mad 'dragon. He focused onto her close face, his own still held a shocked expression, her just staring back stupidly like she didn't know what she was doing. Which she probably didn't, as unknown to him; Sketch was high on something again. Morven's wings flapped in a frenzied motion against the ground, and once in a whilst up against the 'dragon that was still sitting ontop of him.

However, when she started to speak again, describing the details of the current situation about the state of her passed out friend, and that she needed his help; did he stop his squirming that was blatantly getting him no where anyway. Before he could even try to push her out of the way 'gently', so he could upright himself and help; his fore-paw was grabbed and so he was lead over to the grounded pendragon hurriedly. As they neared to Tesreail, he dug the claws on the last three paws that were free, and he pulled all his weight into him, drawing his paw out from her grasp. Morven took several unco-ordinated steps backwards and to the side, regaining use and balance of his four limbs. He didn't care if he had become this close to the avian that had already thought of what he was like, and who he was in the first place; knowing that he had to help Sketch with this student.

 

<span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span>
<table class=ooc><tr><td> Thanks for letting me join ^^</td></tr></table>


<span style='color:orange'><span style='font-size:8pt;line-height:100%'>Dromaegithyr was happily and obliviously curled up on his soft bed. His four paws, --two of which were under his head while the other two were wrapped up under his chest-- twitched as Dro dreamed about a hunt he wouldn't remember upon waking. He warmed his nose in his tail flame, which always was warm when he was happy or comfortable and which changed colors and temperatures as his emotions changed. His soft, purple mane lay over his right eye and his ears twitched occasionally. His peaceful night was not to last though, and soon Dro felt a tiny, sharp claw digging rudely into his hackles. Groggily he bared his canine only to receive a vicious poke in the gums. His eyes snapped open as he jolted awake to see blurrily Knerwulf's slit pupil and bright yellow iris. He jerked his head up, away from the tober's clinging paws. As he groped around for his glasses, Wulf trilled softly, yet demandingly. The world came into focus and Dro found himself staring at the digital clock across the room; the glaring red numbers read 3:24 and the dot of light was glowing by the letters A.M. on the side of the screen. Dro looked down at Wulf, rather annoyed. "Did I ask for a wake up call at three thirty in morning and forget doing so?" whispered Dro in a parental voice. Knerwulf trilled again and, in her own style, grinned; an action which consisted of swishing her long bush of a tail over her back and lifting her head proudly. Dro pulled his hind legs under him and sat on his haunches, glancing over at his sister and yawning lazily. Four sets of tiny claws dug into his leg and up his shoulder as Wulf climbed his side to perch proudly, wavering, on his head. She grabbed his mane in her hand-like paws as Dro stood and stepped out of his warm bed, turning his head to give it a longing glance. "Knerwulf," started Dro and he left his room and turned to face the door to the outside, which was rather close, "You have got to learn to refrain from waking me up at this time." The tober grabbed Dro's long ear and clung to it, purring; her way of buttering him up. Dro smiled and pushed open the door to receive a blast of chilled winter wind. He slipped out soundlessly, barely getting his flame outside before the door closed. Knerwulf spotted the three ‘dragons before Dro, and let off and long, low-pitched, angry trill, pointing at them; a gesture she’d picked up from Dro’s sister. Dro’s muzzle snapped up, he pressed forward his ears, and tried to evaluate what had happened. His eye’s adjusted to the lack of light and he could make out an anthromorphic ‘dragon lying on the ground, another anthro, a female and remarkably thin, and a quadruped ‘dragon, like himself. His mind jumped to the conclusion that the two standing ‘dragons had attacked the unconscious one and if they noticed him, he would be next. Involuntarily, his ears flicked down and pressed against his head, showing anxiety; he bent his legs, lowering himself closer to the ground and his whole body tensed, shaking a little, and ready to sprint. Dro was fast, but in no way shape or from was he strong enough to fight off another ‘dragon if they wanted to physically ‘put him in his place’ as had the jock he angered. He’d been beaten up before, and he certainly didn’t care to repeat the experience. But something made him pause; the ‘dragons weren’t hitting the unconscious one, and he couldn’t smell blood. He smelled a drug through; was that the problem with ‘dragon? But maybe not, after all, it was the female who was swaying. Knerwulf jumped from Dro’s head and skittered in the other ‘dragons’ direction, moving much like a squirrel. His care for his pet won over his fear and he followed after, catching her about five feet from the three. Dro glanced up cautiously, clutching a struggling Wulf; his fear returned: he knew they’d see him now.</span></span>

 

<span style='color:#66718E'> Sketch stepped backwards. More of a staggar really. There were dragons popping up everywhere. Not only dragons, but pets! Hundreds of them! Thousands! Does nobody sleep these days? What time was it anyway? Making a quick glance at her wristwatch it read 99:66. What the hell. She KNEW numbers were shifty. It was not untill hours later she realized that she was not wearing a wrist watch at all.

Sketch looked up and found the face of a new dragon speaking to her. Her green eyes flickered and danced around her face, melding together then breaking apart and relocating themselves in their proper positions. Only then did she understand what had been said.

She was exposed! Her eyes darted from face to face, mind raceing of what to do. What had she been doing in the first place? Why was SHE not asleep? What? Damn is cold out here. Or is it? Are trees usually blue? Those bastards, they stole the skys color!

'Is she still waiting for an answer?' She thought, head buzzing. The inside of her head felt as if it were filled with poprocks. 'I dont have one. Wait... no, I can make one, I promise...' And so adding to the list of the many unwise choices of Miss Sketch Cyerrestrata, she began to speak:
</span>
<span style='color:gray'>
"You know, it's not polite to let you cockatoo run amock dying civillians, especially if they're dying. I suppose you are lucky today is not lasterday, or we'd all be catfood by now. Oh, and you musn't mind me, my pupils are just like that because... I was.. born with cataracts... and they had to cut them out and pawn them to new starving children. You do what you can, you know. No... I'm sorry, I LIE. I wasn't BORN at all! It's those damn mongeese. Theres so few of them, they've taken over. Where's the closest golf course, I'll show you... "
</span>
<span style='color:#66718E'>
At this point, judging by the circle of confused stares, she had officially made a jackass of herself. 'See' she thought 'this is what happens when you try and help people'. With an apologetic smile, she bowed to her onlookers, and spun around disjointedly, and began to walk away.

Unfortuntely, she made the mistake of looking down at the ground when she walked. To her surprise, the earth opened up and swallowed her whole, like an ridiculously obesse man eats a grape.

The rest of the world saw her take four steps and fall onto her face and pass out. She could not make an educated guestimate as to how long she was out. In her mind, she was gone for years. She wandered through a hazy dream where strange beings, like anthro penndragons, but without tails or fur. Their faces were horridly flat, and eyes close together. Their ears were not long and pointed, but small, round, knotted and ugly. These creatures chased her endlessly, finding her wherever she hid. They killed her friends with strange weapons that spouted fire and iron. Blood everywhere. She did not cry, but continued to run deep into the forrest, to the treehouse caste which was always the safehaven of her dreamworld. But even here they found her, pinned her down and finally killed her. But after death, she was still aware. She could see like normal, as well as hear and watched in horror as the monsters carried her body away, towards the creek. 'No, not the creek!' she cried, but nobody could hear her, of course, she was dead. The creek always signified some sort of dark horrors in dreams, filled with hundreds strange black fish, not to mention other ugly deviations. But here, she was dumped, to rot for an eternity... and she did. All she could do was ask 'why?' and stare into the cold sky like an iron slate through the amber water. Then her world went dark and she returned to reality.

As she shakilly pulled herself back to her feet, she noticed that most hallicinatory changes had vanished. She quickly recalled her stituation, and felt her heart rate increase, knowing she was blushing madly. Without delay, she walked quickly to Morven and took his paw once again, ignoring the gait impediment it caused. </span>
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"Come." She said aloofly. "Ignore they others... they'll eat you alive if you do not watch your tail. I've got something to show you."
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