(OOC this would be one of my first posts on here so dont bite me if its not up to standards *sweatdrop*, obviously anyone can join ^__^) Current Day: 35 Current Quarter/Month: Mia Current Year: Year 81378 The rain came down in hissing torrents, its droplets falling in their thousands onto the streets below with only the street lights to illuminate them for one fleeting moment before they dropped onto the chill stone of the sidewalk and ran down into the drains below. On this night, one in which the elements seemed to be implacable in their rage as they battled each other for mastery, few pedestrians were around, most preferring to move their business-illicit or otherwise- into warmer, dryer areas. This course of action left the streets free of any distractions for those whose lives revolved around the elemental war of thunder, lighting and water which raged over the urban landscape, not even the moon visible to light the darkened late night streets. Up, upon one of the roofs sat a lone figure, the rain driving across his sleek frame and running in shimmering rivulets past his striking eyes, one an electrical blue and the other a deep violet. This night the violet one appeared more prominent in its colouration but whatever significance this may have held was known only by the silent male pendragon. His attention was fixed firmly on the skies, his heart hammering in his chest at each glorious roll of thunder, his pupils dilating as arch after arch of lightning illuminated the sky. Illuminated against the sky his pure white pelt of scalefur practically glowed, even through the rather dirty rain his pelt stayed clean, another perk of his element. His thoughts raced through his brain, their meaning totally lost on him. Images as fleeting as dreams and just as unexplained flashed past his eyes as the force of his element earthed itself in him. After a time, sparks began to emenate slowly from his stark boned wings, almost giving the illusion of feathers as each separate spark flared out from them..but then thatÂ’s all it was, an illusionÂ…wasnÂ’t it? After a time, he seemed satisfied that the weather has gone into remission, and, giving the sky a reverent bow, the lithe pendragon proceeded to edge down from his vantage point on the roof, his claws grating on the wall as he slid to the ground. Then, with a smirk that flickers across his features and is gone as swiftly as the lightning fades he left the back alley and headed out into the main street, where he casually leaned against a wall, his wings still sparking slightly in the dim streetlight, his flame tipped tail waving almost seductively, its flame glowing a deep azure, brightening, just slightly the shadows around him.
<font color=darkslategray><font color=slategray>^ out of character Hope you don't mind me hoppin' in. Beautiful post, by the way. :D</font> ^ in character Incubus's claws were trimmed to a pinprick point, carefully crafted so that they were silent, yet deadly. Since they were sheathable, they weren't mostly a problem, as far as noise went. Yet at times he liked to have them out in case of emergency, but also without anything that might forewarn another of his approach. It was part of his trade, after all. Part of what his employers paid for. What was up with them, anyways? Always wanting him to kill these obscure victims who meant nothing. Their husbands' mistresses, or something, the pendragon assassin figured. It was usually females who asked him to murder others of their same gender. Same with the males, though, they seemed most adverse to other masculine pendragons. As if they were intimidated by the mere existance of another that was the same gender as they and only tolerated Incy because the sand-eyed murderer was among the best in his trade. He didn't know why they wasted their blasted time on paying him, when they could have killed the victims they wanted dead much easier themselves. Maybe they didn't want blood on their claws. Wimps, he thought with a cold sneer. The catlike beast that stood beside him flicked an ear at him in silent distaste. For she knew his thoughts, if not word for word, at least close enough. They had been friends for so long that sometimes he fancied she really did know his thoughts. Read them completely and without any trouble. She certainly comprehended what he meant, even if he didn't say it. If he was lying, she could tell, even when his smooth experience caused it to be the truth to anyone else. Perhaps because those who knew him completely would have recognized that silent ring of deception. No one else ever noticed and Decore was his only friend, really, so he actually didn't have much to base his half-formed opinion on, as was. Maybe it was just that the qereniath was very perceptive, that they were so close. It was impossible for another pendragon to touch the bond that they had created. Or to form one similar. Perhaps that was just because of him, though. It was possible that another pendragon could have a relationship as deep with him. It simply couldn't be exactly like Dec' and Inc' were. Impossible. Not merely improbable, as some would argue, but truly impossible. The cigarette rolled between his fingers, then was idly lifted to his lips. A puffed breath allowed the smoke to roll out of his lips in such an easy manner, eyes focused intensely on the outside world. He would have been out there if he had a job, but he had finished his last one, and was now merely waiting for another potential employer. One who hadn't appeared for the last fifty minutes, while Incubus had been waiting at the appropriate place. His eyes flashed dangerously at the thought. Oh, yes, Munalatt Lytaj was definitely on the male's "bad list". Likely to get himself killed by the assassin he had stood up, if Incy had a lazy day. Extinguishing the object once suspended between nimble digits by tossing it into the rain, then stepping out onto it, 'bus gave a strange grin to the bartender. She merely nodded and gave a slight wave, before turning her attention back to another customer. Decore was trailing her owner with a steadfast pace, then matched it so that she was walking steadily alongside him. The film that normally rested across his eyelid slid down over his eyes, adding to his vision, and making his eyes the color of pitch. Instantly, he caught sight of a young male. What was one like that doing around here? Shouldn't he be back at school, or some such on a day like this? Bhim was certainly not the place for a teenager. A stealthy prowl lead him towards the other, a vaguely malicious look in his eyes. He purposefully slid into an alley, then stepped out in front of Storm as the younger male drew near. There was a sort of dangerous look in his eyes, a hardened, cold appearance that was typical here in Bhim. <font color=black>"An' what would a lad like you be doin' 'round a place like this, hm? 're ya' lost?"</font>
<font color=navy> |:| O O C |:| .:skips in:. I hope it's OK with both of you if I join as a third person :) That brings me to the question - what exactly is Ronnica doing in Bhim? Ack, never mind my ramblings. I already have an excuse in mind .:evil cackle:. |:| I C |:| Ronnica Vox's pale scales would have provided ideal camouflage had she been tottering around in snow or sand. But even in that case, she would have probably not gone unnoticed due to her black bangs, streaked here and there with a silvery gray. Here, in the heart of Bhim, the surroundings were quite the opposite, the air black with the departing storm and falling shadows. The gray female stuck out from even the darkest shadows, and it was no wonder it irritated her. She had been to the Black Market two times before and none of her stays were particularly memorable, except for the pain that necesarily followed each of them. No, one could say more accurately that Ronnica wanted to forget this corrupt continent as fast as she could. Her brown eyes squinted through the last few raindrops that flew into her face, trying to pry through the darkness. Ronnica didn't have any third eye or an enhaced ability of seeing in the dark, but she was competent enough to locate and indetify most obstacles that would stand in her way. The street in front of her was deserted, the catheads glistening and glowing an almost invisible white in the feeble illumination. Ronnie had never been directly inside the town, or village - who knows? - where most of the illegal transactions took place and the bars and inns held many a questionable character. To tell the truth, she wasn't exactly keen on it, the woods surrounding this lair were source of enough trouble for her. Only a season earlier, in Tessera, she had met one of the assasins that lurked there, and had, quite voluntarily, accompanied him on his "quest". He was the hard and silent type, and Ronnica could only shake her head at her own stupidity. She had envisioned herself helping him get rid of some tyrant or other, but, of course, as soon as they got to the City of Aurius, where he was supposed to "take action", the assasin had dissapeared and Ronnica hadn't heard of him or seen him since. The girl scoffed at herself, a faint red taint of embarassement crawling into her cheeks. She promised herself to never get carried away by fantasies and dreams again, and where was she now, barely thirty days later? At the same place, at the very same continent she had vowed never to visit again. Maybe she was looking for adventure... maybe for that male who made fun of her. Ronnica was surprised that she herself didn't know. "But anyway, that's my way of life, isn't it?" she muttered under her breath, "That's the leva tsila I chose and that is best not questioned." She realised she had been standing in the middle of the paved street for quite some time, and ducked into the shadow of a nearby house. Her paws were immediately swallowed up to their claws by the layer of mud that had sought protection against the building's side. She waded through the miniature swamp, each step echoing with a soft squelch. Rounding a corner of a small alley, she suddenly came up against two figures leaning against the wall. "Came up" is not the right word, "crashed into" would be more suitable, though Ronnica did notice there was something in front of her before she walked right into it. The pale female jumped back, looking thoroughly stricken. "I honestly should do something about night-vision," she mumbled and took another step back, deciding what to do. A decent apology would do well... most probably. "Yo! I'm sorry I've crashed into you, whoever you two are!" she called out softly, just loud enough for them to hear, "I can't see a thing until it's too late." </font>
<span style='color:blue'> ..:OOC:..- Feel free to tell me if Storm having an alter-ego isn’t allowed, all I’m doing is porting over an existing human character I rp as so missing out little snippets about him if they aren’t appropriate is quite simple for me I suppose ^^</span> <span style='color:blue'> ..:IC:.. As the thunder and lightning faded from the sky Stormrae let out a quiet sigh, the real pleasures in life were fleeting. He lived for moments like that, moments when the thunder rolled and clashed above him, moments when he didn’t have to think about who he was, about the present, past and future, all he lived for was the moment. But when the storms moved on he was left alone, his mind returning to normal thoughts, reminding him of the many reasons why he would never be like the others. Mrost was always be there, it was something he had to live with, normal split personalities could be treated by medicine and herbs, but Mrost was different..too different for that sort of thing to work. The other that shared his body was not easily placated, appearing and disappearing whenever he so felt to. So there Storm was, alone in those streets again, a storm chaser’s life was one that demanded an individual with no real ties to others. It was painfully lonely but some things in life just couldn’t be helped… He was moderately surprised as another pendragon emerged from a pub a short distance away, few were out and about at these hours. Keen night vision-conditioned by years spent chasing the dark side of the weather- picked up the others movements. He felt his muscles tense slightly in apprehension to the dark furred male’s approach, Storm was not a large pendragon and his experiences with others in this forsaken part of the world had been less than savoury. He had only really escaped last time he was cornered by taking the aggressive male by surprise with a sharp jolt of electricity drawn from the stores in his wings. So it was only really normal that the sight of another approaching him, this time accompanied by a creature of some sort should bring a twinge of unease to him. Almost subconsciously he flattened his pure white ears tight against his sleek skull and curled his over-long tail in closer to his well-furred paws. He could hardly meet the gaze of the other as they approached, instead he kept his duo toned eyes- so cold for his age- fixed to the ground. He had always held the opinion that the eyes gave away too much about a creature and that if he looked at anyone too hard they might sometime spot the feral Mrost looking back at them, all that could ever lead to was more pain for him. So he tried to look a little relaxed, adjusting his posture slightly and looking at the ground. His apprehensive mood showed a little hope of brightening when, rather than mauling him on the spot or robbing him blind, the senior ‘dragon paused and asked him what he meant with being here. The civility in the strange male’s tone was shocking to say the least, Storm had assumed him at first sight to be a little more forceful and gruff. But still, he couldn’t relax, there was something dangerous in there, an edge to the pendragon’s tone that seemed ambiguous, almost as if he was just humouring him for the time being, until he assessed his weaknesses. Inc has the look about him of someone who won’t take much hassle from anyone, a type of attitude Stormrae had come to dread around here. But Stormrae though young, had a streak of stubbornness which bordered on the foolish in him. Defiance raised its head within Storm’s mind, and, flicking his tail he looked up at Inc and stated, in a voice that gave away more of his age than he would have liked “No, I am not lost, few who wander are. I came here trailing the storm." He smiled in a manner which implied politeness but, to the watchful eye seemed to also appear a bit manic, clearly there was something not quite right about this young pendragon. “I do thank you for actually caring however." he added as an afterthought, his tone growing steadily more confident, his voice not used in an age finally getting back into a long forgotten rhythm. At that moment a distraction came hurtling along the street in the form of a female ‘dragon. Storm almost grinned as she called out her apology, surely this male creature, of whose intentions he was still unsure wouldn’t harm him with another present…maybe he would get a chance to escape this situation alive. Either way Storm couldn’t talk long, for it was a matter of time before Mrost decided to butt in and most probably get him killed.</span>
<font color=darkslategray>^ in character Decore arched her head upwards, triangular cranium brushing lightly against his fingers as she purred contently, strange orange eyes peering at the younger male before them in curiousity. There was an intense intelligence to her eyes that belittled her seemingly inferior form. Even as she stood beside Incubus, with her leather collar visible to make sure it was evident she was a tame beast or so it would seem to a bystander. It was actually a merely a precaution, since some might kill a wild one. No one ever seemed to realize that, however. Perhaps it was because they didn't look for it. Most assassins trained their animals - if they had any - until they were completely subservient. That wasn't the case with Incubus and Decore. They enjoyed being the exception, however. Rules were for the weak and insecure. Those who couldn't think outside the box. At least that they couldn't see far enough into the darkness outside of the little world they had been shown. A second's hesitation, then the male reached into the pocket of his jacket, easily tugging out a pair of black gloves. Perhaps the quick motion would be taken adversely by the younger male, but it wasn't as if the assassin cared. The pair of gloves were fingerless and black, the sort that he always cared. There was another pair on the other side for kills, the kind that didn't leave fingerprints. As these, with the fingers visible, did. Maybe the junior pendragon didn't realize that this was a good sign. After all, if he had plotted to kill the other male, then Incubus would have made sure there was no way to trace him. That was how he worked. Yet he had no ill intent towards the other. At least not yet. If he ever did, it was a simple thing to pull the sleeve down over his fingers swiftly so that the murder could occur anyway. Or he could switch gloves, whatver suited him. Moving water, too, could swipe away fingerprints. Not that anyone would care if there was another murder in Bhim. Unless this one was rich. Yet it wouldn't appear so, as there were no trailing pendragons to ensure that the young aristocrat was well cared for. Usually sons were permitted to go to Bhim on the condition that they were watched - or, more often, they were trailed without their knowledge by someone who knew this place. Incubus never took those jobs. Simply because he didn't care if young lords lived or not. He was as likely to take such a job and kill his supposed ward as to protect the lad. Inc' didn't particularly like killing the younger generation, but sometimes that was how things went. He didn't refuse jobs simply because it meant staining his paws with innocent blood. It was just a preference. In general those weren't the kinds of jobs he was offered, though. Because he was better than that, more experience than to be useful merely in killing some foolish teenager who had wandered too far into treacherous business... who needed to be silenced. "No, I am not lost, few who wander are. I came here trailing the storm." The assassin snorted softly, a light chuckle slowly escaping his lips. Apparantly this youngster hadn't been around Bhim much. There were a lot of lost nobles around here. Often ones that met their untimely ends because of their foolishness. Or maybe they weren't lost, they merely thought that Bhim was something that it wasn't. That it was a place of fun and games. Some had rumored it to be so, though it really wasn't. Maybe so that they could fulfill their hit lists. He had heard other assassins selling Bhim off as great, a place full of fun and "adventure". Oh, yes, much adventure to be had, but very little that anyone wanted to experience. Anyone who wasn't dark as the alley at night, anyways. Actually caring? Apparantly this other male had confused him for someone else. It was likely sarcasm, yet the notes were set so carefully as to be able to lean both ways. The assassin eyed the other apprasingly, then mentally shrugged it off. The sound of another's approach caused him to turn his head. It was long before the other nearly ran into them and he sidestepped a bit to make sure that he wasn't collided with. Decore hissed softly, rubbing close to her comrade. <font color=black>"Oh, indeed, I'm sure you do appreciate it in this sort of place... though I don't believe you aren't lost. Not the best place to be chasing storms, young sir."</font> He replied with a strange glint in his eyes. <font color=black>"No apologies neccessary. Can hardly expect everyone to be able to see in this sort of weather."</font> Oh such the gentleman! Yeah, right. Just the outer shell of his being.
<font color=navy> |:| O O C |:| I apologise for the shorteness. I couldn't think of anything else to write about without constantly milling around the same piece of information. |:| I C |:| It was all so strangely diverted. Quite the opposite of what was theoretically supposed to happen, and Ronnica found herself feeling bewildered. Usually when you wander around Bhim, you tend to keep to the shadows, to yourself. You must, if your life is of any value to you. Pendragons that are inconspicuous, that go unnoticed have a better chance of mingling out of this place and finding their bodies still whole, not ripped nor shred apart by some assasin or convict. Like many others, especially those weaker, Ronnie knew it was better to go by these rules. Yet now she had just encountered two pendragons, one of them somewhat older by the sound of his voice, almost crashed into them and nothing evil hadn't happened to her yet. The best thing to do would be to turn back immediately and blend into the night, out of sight. This course of action was what her whole mind was screaming for her to do, and Ronnica turned around to leave. But something kept her. Maybe a sparkle of curiosity had alighted in her soul, for through the drizzle she had caught sight of an electrical flame. It lasted for a split second and then faded away, but Ronnica could've sweared she saw a bony structure, resembling that of an avian's wing. It belonged to the second pendragon, who hadn't said a word, since the small collision. The pale femme decided to stay. She grinned at the thought that she might regret it later and grabbed the last string of conversation, pulling at it and weaving her own thread to the end. "Too true. 'Specially when you're not used to it," she replied cheerfully, standing firmly on her spot. Her worlds sounded vague, empty and superficious, but it was an reply and it counted. It could ruin her or do the exact opposite, though it looked more like the ruining posibility. </font>
<span style='color:#3366CC'>.:OOC:.- Storm is such a coward at heart XP I hope I’m not writing him up badly, after all, writing a character that is both terrified for their life and trying to support an excess of pride really isn’t easy. Oh and by the way, your posts are so wonderfully detailed._. I am ashamed to even /try/ and match them in length and quality. .:IC:. Even though things seemed to be going badly for him Stormrae couldn’t help but be immensely intrigued by the creature that accompanied the dangerous looking male, he had never encountered one of its kind before. Wither the creature was male or female he couldn’t be sure, the only thing he was even remotely sure of was that the creature before him possessed more intelligence than any other pet he had come across in his life, in fact, were it not for the collar it wore around its neck, he would have been just as wary of it as he was of its owner. After all, the collar was to him a signal of even slight domesticity, the creatures “owner" however, bore no such guarantee. All the more reason to be wary he supposed. Storm’s heart almost missed a beat as the male pendragon swiftly put on a pair of gloves, such swift movements, he noted. Why, if that sort of quickness was to be turned upon him he wouldn’t stand a chance. Dead before he hit the ground, so to speak. Mentally he classified the male into several possible professions, deduced from the fact that he: a) Was in Bhim and appeared at home there b ) Had extremely quick movements when he wished to (by Storms estimation anyhow) c) Possessed an almost gentlemanly demeanour The three or four professions that Storm had the male ranked under ranged all the way from thief to assassin and not one of them made him feel any better than he had two minutes beforehand, quite the contrary, he felt much worse. The only consolation was that he didn’t own a single valuable possession to lose, his only item being the worn and rather ragged baggy jeans that he currently wore. He also didn’t like one bit the way he was being observed, as though the pendragon opposite could see right through him, as though it really was so blatant he had spent just a week here in this strange place where laws were just present to be laughed off. A particular niggling worry was that the other could clearly see his apprehension, his worries. He had mentally named this area the flip side for it was so different from the cheery areas he had visited before. It left him feeling out of his depth. His tail flicked warily at his paws, their rich feathery “fetlocks" getting filthy from the backsplash from the ground. Even in the usually comforting rain he felt exposed and even now his element was beginning to leave him, to fade into the light drizzle it usually did at the end of a truly wild tempest “Not the best place to be chasing storms…" the males words rang too true in his mind, but try as he might he could no more fight the lull of a good lightning-fest than a fish could walk on the land, how he wished that he had stayed on the roof and just waited for his wings to ignite, then to be off, to follow the storm onwards. What had been so different to make him instead come down into the streets below, to watch as a threat strolled over to him, to still be standing here with his life on the line? What was it his mother said? “Follow the tsyjnt, for they will lead you to your true destiny in their own time, stay to the path of the good and they will never lead you wrong." But it was really too late for him to stick to the path of good, not with Mrost lurking just under his skin, waiting…. Nevertheless he kept on following the storms, tornados and ocean squalls hoping to finally find a reason why he existed. This time it seemed they had led him into danger, not the first time in his life. Was it because of what he had done as Mrost? Or perhaps he was just predestined to die in pursuit of his fate? A casualty of a tradition as old as the sky? Maybe her statement “Stay to the path of good" had been a warning? A premonition that to tread here, far from the “path of good" was to take one’s last steps? The question rang in his mind, loud and foreboding, and made the pristine fur on the back of his neck raise slightly in worry. As an inverse, Mrost loved it here, after all he loved to watch Storm suffer, wriggling uncomfortably in a place where he just didn’t fit. After all, it was not like Mrost could give a damn if his host died, he would just be re-incarnated in time back from Fronima, this time with him as the dominant personality and not the cowardly Storm. It was all the young pendragon could do to keep him suppressed at the best of times, and even now he was worried the evil creature might rise to the fore, say something that would aggravate the assassin and end in his death. His brilliant eyes reluctantly flicked from the threat at hand to the pale female that had only just arrived. He felt slightly safer with her present, not just because she appeared of his own age but because she looked to be feeling as out of place as he did. He drew from her a little courage, at least courage enough to stop his tail flicking in a terrified manner. He gave her an as inconspicuous nod as he could manage a tiny symbol of his gratitude that she did not just walk on in the opposite direction but instead stayed close by. Once again he calmed his breathing and tried to collect his scattered thoughts and composure. This newfound composure was short lived however, and Storm almost leapt out of his skin again as his wings chose that moment to spark to life, the electricity looping out across them in a blaze of rich azures, some sparks long and forked like the primary wing feathers of a bird, other forks of lightning short and abrupt like the shorter feathers. All across the bony and exposed structure that (had he not have inherited a genetic mutation) would have been his wings they zapped into life. The final impression was of a shimmering loop of electricity that gave the impression of wings. Stormrae utterly panicked as this took place and without thinking, backed up even closer to the wall in case this turn of events was the last straw for the seemingly polite inhabitant of Bhim that stood before him. For that moment Storm honestly wished that he had some sort of control over when and how his wings ignited and, with a massive conscious effort he forced them to dim down to a barely flickering spark that still bathed the sidewalk, shimmering with rain, in a blue glow, but not quite as much as before. In a tone of utmost apology, he added “So sorry about that… it happens sometimes when I‘ve been bolt-basking for any length of time. It’s how I travel" Really he didn’t think that the male needed to know such useless information but conversation seemed to be the best course of placation. In an attempt to escape this predicament intact he stated, with a pointed look at the moon as one would read a watch “Well, it is late, and as you say Bhim is most certainly /not/ the place to be chasing storms, I had best be off I suppose, the storm moves on, you know how it is" </span>
<font color=darkslategray>^ in character It was in Inc's nature to see whether the other pendragons were even worth his time. Thus far they were a vague entertainment, yet he wondered how long that would last. After all, his fingers were used to knives and skilled conversation, not the uneventful state of things at the moment. For though the newcomer - the girl - had nearly run into the pair in their strange conversation, that was hardly action. At least not to the assassin. Then again that was probably because he was used to blood, not this routine set of speaking. Slender digits itched for something to do. Even if it was as simple as messing around with a knife. Yet he didn't want to scare away his two companions so easily. Information was often gathered that was invaluable from the young. Those who didn't realize what they were saying. That they were accidentally betraying one who had slipped up and given away a bit too much. These two seemed like smart enough kids, but all children were just that. Teenagers most especially, due to their erratic and often violent natures. The paid murderer was almost amused by the fact that the younger male seemed nervous. Though it was only natural to be in such a state, the sandy-eyed criminal had no intention of harming Storm. Not just because he preferred to knock off older pendragons, either. First off, there was a witness. Though he could easily kill them both at the same time. The thought caused a rush of adrenaline to rock through his body. A single swipe of dual blades that sliced a pair of throats... ah, it would be interesting. Yet he restrained such instinctive bloodthirst rather easily. The energy faded away, waiting until he actually needed it. Not while he was making rather polite conversation with a pair of teenagers. Foolish children that would probably go home to their parents and tell them all about the polite stranger in Bhim... not. After all, who would admit to having met a stranger in Bhim to their parents? Maybe they would brag to their friends, though. "He was huge! He lunged at me with a knife, and..." Of course if Incubus heard such rumors spread about him, there would be blood to pay from the origin. Ah, but uncertainty was part of life. Maybe that was why 'bus found himself so interested in the emotions that seemed quite clear to him. With such intensely focused eyes - seemingly black, due to the dark film covering them - it might appear that he was blind. Yet it was clear that he was not, so it was very likely that Storm had seen beneath the film, at least a bit, to see the eyes the color of wet sand beneath. Most didn't see beneath it, but that was on purpose. Then again, it all depended on the pendragon. Some found it to be quite simple and others didn't. Even Incubus had trouble understanding, at times, why an almost black lense would allow him to see better. It didn't make things darker, but brought light to the world, so that he was able to see even better than he could during the day - which was considerable. He had excellent sight. That was because of something in his lost past, a thing that he didn't care to remember. What was gone was gone, no regrets. Decore was watching the newcomer, the female, with interest. Her padded paws slowly drew her from Incubus's side, so that she was more evidently peering - with all of her wild intelligence - at the teenaged girl. The catlike beast meowed softly under her breath, twisting her finely crafted head to the side so that she was watching Ronnica in an almost comical way. Yet it was with all seriousness that she regarded the stranger. For Dec' had taken an instant liking for the other girl. In fact, she tossed a glance at her master that indicated any attempt at killing the female pendragon would be met with resistance. Incubus, intercepting the look, merely snorted under his breath, and flicked a finger at his feline companion. It was obvious to her what he meant, though it probably merely looked like an idle movement to anyone else. Decore, reassured, settled down beside her owner once more, though her night bright eyes remained focused intensely on Ronnica. As the female pendragon spoke, there was the flash of gleaming white teeth as amusement flickered across the rather expressive face of the qereniatha. Her gaze only shifted as the air crackled with electricity, going to Incubus in agitation, then to Storm in realization. The igniting spark caused the hair on the back of Incy's neck to stand on end. Before it was even a full-fledged vision of wings, he had backed up a bit, fingers lifted in an instinctive beginning to the warding spell that would protect him from electric shock. Keen eyes quickly picked up what was occurring, however. The digits remained splayed properly for a moment, then gave a dismissive gesture that released the pent-up magic, allowing it to seep back into the sorcerer's very bones. There was an interested look in his eyes, now, but not one that boded ill for the electric-winged pendragon. Instead, it was mere scholarly curiousity that had risen inside him. Though an assassin, he was also a sorcerer. Thus, such a strange thing was of interest to him. The curiousity faded from his eyes as he forced it away, however, long since having known that revealing anything was giving too much away. It was a flicker of a moment where he actually had interest in his eyes, and, thus, unlikely to have been seen. Yet he cursed himself, anyways, for having been so stupid as to reveal anything, even for such a short span of time. <font color=black>"Got somewhere to be, then, lad? Storm's not movin' that fast and if you're a real watcher the best parts haven't started yet anyway."</font> Incubus replied with a noncommital shrug of his shoulders. <font color=black>"'ave it your way, though. Didn't think I was that bad of company."</font> The assassin commented with feigned hurt. His fingers flitted down to his pocket, and the most idle twist of his wrist brought forth a switch blade. It was easily flicked open, then closed, before sliding back into his pocket. A threat? Hardly. He was just bored.
<font color=navy> |:| O O C |:| .:Agrees with Stormrae:. Except I stopped trying ever since Troo Bloo met Rallyn and Cairn in the swamp! |:| I C |:| She tipped her head into a slight angle, her maw pointing between the rooftops of the city's buildings. Her brown eyes had their usual look about them, call it like you wish. Their round, rather naive gaze could be interpreted as dreamy, innocent or relatively foolish. To their owner, every mirror she looked into screamed "Cow! cow!" It caused her to realise and eventually admit their resemblance to the terran cattle's orbs, though one couldn't say it caused much trouble. Few pendragons took interest in the domestic fauna of the long-lost planet Earth, and who could blame them? No one, not with the numerous, interesting species that could be found around Ramath-lehi. One of these animals was now standing in front of the gray femme. Ronnica had not noticed her until then, the qereniath's black pelt making her almost invisible to the untrained eye. Oh, untrained... a mere excuse. Ronnie flicked her head slightly in agitation as the truth reminded her of itself once again. To tell the truth, she was a proud pendragon. She was so proud of herself it was stupid and extravagated. This pride would have been her downfall long before, but luckily Ronnica realised how she was behaving soon enough to stop her spiritual decay. Yet even now, still not fully harnessed and tamed, her near-snobishness surprised her time to time. Especially when someone was having a go at her or when she was forced to admit she couldn't do everything. It was exasperating, and the road to improvement was rocky and time consuming. However, the girl was determined to be a little more self-conscious, and so she pressed on on her private quest, a faint outline of a trophy glinting at the far end. Ronnica shifted her weight from one foot to another, her ears perking up at the sound of a faint meow. She lowered her eyes and met the inspecting gaze of the qereniath in front of her, the feline's smooth and shadowy pelt outlining her features. The triangular cranium, shaped like a cat's, the fine ears, turned in an elegant bow like the sail of a ship. The black eyes and the color responding button of a nose, forming yet a smaller triangle above the bridge of the qereniath's muzzle. The young pendragon held her breath, savoring the moment - it was her first time meeting one of these mysterious creatures, and she was obviously regarded with interest. There was a strange field of energy, perhaps a form of aura, vibrating around the feline. It went unseen, but Ronnica felt it, a warm acknowledgement seeping all over her. She felt immediate liking for the cat-like being in front of her, melting under her qereniath stare. She can see to the bottom of my soul, flashed through the pendragons mind, but she quickly wiped it away. That's not possible, isn't it? Then again, qereniaths could hardly be stuffed in the category "Known". "Unknown" would fit them much better. Ronnica felt coldness crawl down her spine and she gave an unvoluntary shiver. The feline turned her head slowly, displaying a glimpse of a leather collar amongst the shadows of her pelt. One second it was there and the next it returned to its hiding place in the blackness, hidden by the constant movement of the neck it adorned. The collar was enough to change the mind-picture of the qereniath that Ronnica was forming, and she felt a rush of disbelief that a creature so intelligent, so elegant, could allow a loop around her neck. Yet on second thoughts she decided that the feline had her own reasons and that, after all, it was none of her business. The qereniath had returned to stand beside her owner. Owner or friend, Ronnie's thought were racing around, leaving an impression of cunning trailing behind. Cunning in some way that their owner didn't understand. Lately, she had been getting a little mixed up, feeling like she was floating in an endless void, strings of something she couldn't grasp shimmering around her. It was a completely new experience, but as far as the down-to-earth pendragon was concerned, an unwanted one. It felt almost as if a magical change was taking place, but Ronnica excluded this idea from her mind. She distrusted magic, never being able to handle even the easiest forms of it. So why would it start bothering me now? was her irritated conclusion, which lasted until she felt yet again the strange place, as if part of her brain was being shut from her. The small period of mind waver was over barely after she felt it. Ronnica opened her mouth, about to remark something, when suddenly the storm's younger brother returned in the form of a surge of electric energy. Blue flames, zaps and sparks climbed along the bones of the younger pendragon's wings, and he jumped back, obviously startled and quite a bit uncomfortable. His wings were now in full form, or bloom, one could say, even though he succeeded in moderately dimming them. Even though, a pool of pale blue light sprawled itself on the sidewalk, coloring the lower jaws of four faces - three pendragonic and one qereniathan - an eerie ghostly color. The source of all this electricity suggested his own departure in an uncertain attempt to draw attention away from the outburst, and was met with a hurt reply. Ronnie held her tongue, getting confused by the second. It looked to her now that these two had met by accident, perhaps involuntary. She shook her head in pure disgust at her own inability, and her gaze was drawn again to the wings. Their bony structure was clearly visible, and Ronnica wondered what it must be to fly with them. What if the electrical energy didn't last long enough, dissapearing in the middle of one's flight? Deciding it wouldn't hurt to ask, she voiced her question, soft interest in her eyes. </font>
<span style='color:blue'>.:OOC:.- sorry about how short this post is. .:IC:. Storm raised a single eyebrow as the male produced a switchblade, on inspection he noted it had a blade made of some type of metal, most likely a conductor and not a real threat to him at the moment simply because a stab with it would injure and possibly kill him without a doubt but would also result in the attacker receiving several hundred volts of elemental energy for his trouble. Storm’s control over his magic was loose at best and he was too worried about Mrost to ever attend the school and improve his element control. So as things were he was an electrical powerhouse who was as likely to shock an ally than an enemy if he came into contact with one. Storm didn’t necessarily want to leave this place right at this moment, something inside him was curious as to the nature of the people that lived here, what drove them and why. His kind had always been some of the most cold and indifferent in nature, moving with the winds and leaving their own behind without so much of a care, deeply destructive. Something about Bhim resembled the atmosphere he had grown up in, which he himself was quite unable to put his finger on what it was, a sort of pulsing danger buried beneath the impression of a civil marketplace. It was one of those things that you didn’t venture to ask in case you uncovered something unpleasant. He was still pretty much terrified of the pendragon that stood before him, the male whose eyes he couldn’t quite make out.. However he was still alive wasn’t he? That in itself was a fortunate thing, perhaps the other was not quite as outright psycho as Storm had made him out to be. Not to mention the fact that he hadn’t spoken to another soul in about 3 months and the dark male was being civil. Maybe he was being paranoid. Tactfully he made to walk away (an attempt to not be backed to a wall) but paused in his smooth stride to say. “In fact, you’re right, the storm can wait for now. It has been an age since I spoke to anyone." He adds, his tone slightly more cheerful than before Freed from his tight spot Storm loosens up a bit and his over-long tail sets up a lazy waving behind him. His wings brighten up a bit too, his mind no longer focused on suppressing them and as a final testament to his brightening in mood, his ears perk up a bit. He no longer is acutely aware of his diminutive height and his confidence slots neatly back into place He catches the as yet unnamed females question and turns to face her, as he turns, his sparking wings casting flickering shadows across the street. He raised one of his eyebrows, its colour beginning as white above his muzzle and fading to azure at the edges, and said. “What is it like to fly with these?" This was enough for a momentary pause as he thought about how to describe it “Well, all I do is increase the amount of electricity on them and shift this electricity to behind me, it’s the equivalent of having boosters on ones back I suppose. As for if they run out of energy, I can see that coming, it’s as if I have a sort of gauge in my head that tells me how much electricity I have pent up. I just /know/ that I could hold so much more than I currently have, that’s why I hope one day to find the ruins of an old city where perhaps, if I’m lucky there will still be some power cells left and I can top up to my maximum." He smirked then added “That way I wouldn’t have to constantly chase storms in an effort to sustain my flight capabilities."</span>
<font color=darkslategray><font color=slategray>^ out of character Oh pish posh, you two are great. It is I that am honored to be roleplaying with you. Now no more of these apologies, y'hear. All of your posts are wonderful. :bows:</font> ^ in character Ah, and the sad truth was that poor Storm didn't realize three things. First of all, that warding gesture, earlier, was a casually used spell that was actually quite difficult to master. Those that tried to deflect electricity often needed an outlet to divert it to. There were two such things nearby, perfect conductors for the loose energy, unless it could be controlled. If it could be soaked back into the skin, like that which Incubus possessed some of, then it would be a bonus to any sorcerer who managed to get a hold of it. Even if it was a surprise - which any intelligent sorcerer would realize that the electricity wasn't entirely contained - there were quick maneuvers that could save a stupid mage from death. They were countless, actually. Some of the most moronic students in sorcery classes survived the sort of explosions in their classrooms that the smarter ones didn't. Because the more intelligent ones wanted to harness the power or tried to divert the flow and were fried as the electricity shot straight through them. Like lightning to a metal rod. Yet the modified version that Incubus had used would have either soaked up the power for his use or sent it back to the storm. The second thing that the junior hadn't recognized in his thought process was the fact that Incubus didn't have to be holding the hilt of the blade to pierce the heart of the other. Oh, no, he was a fine knife thrower. Came with his profession and was a favorite hobby of his on the side. Which meant there would be nothing but the blade itself in which to live for the electricity, until it crackled into nonexistent. Of course, as soon as the body thumped onto the ground, the electricity would seek the nearest way to the ground, and through the boy's body would be the best way. Thus doubly ensuring that the assassin's job had been correctly. Though it wasn't needed, seeing as Inc' hadn't made a mistake in over seven years. It was what he had been bred to do, after all. Killing, defending, blending in. A mixture of thief, spy, assassin... though he didn't know why or who had done it to him. Experimented on his body and changed it. He wasn't even sure that was what had happened, it was so fuzzy. Which was why it was a good thing no one around Bhim asked about pasts. In fact, it was considered quite rude to question such things. The third, final thing, which there was no way Storm could have known, also had to do with his strange mutation, was that he was untouchable by electricity. At least so he presumed. Fire couldn't touch him so long as he was concentrated on not being burned. It would have given him an extra couple of seconds to remove his hand from the hilt of his blade, however, and get away before he was killed by the zapping element. He had limits, of course, and would definitely be exhausted by the effort, but... In truth he had never tested the theory and he would have gone with the safer route of merely tossing the knife into the heart of the youngster. Perhaps sending a curse along with it, sent by dark sorcery to ensure that the foolish child didn't manage to construct a barrier. If, that was, he was even a sorcerer. Though it was unlikely, as Incy saw no indications. Felt no dancing elements from past smells, no residual scents that might signify death or chance, maybe even one of the other elements. Another part of the initial fact was the small matter of Incubus's touch. Merely brushing against the boy, he could pass on a poison from his bloodstream. Something no one else was immune to, because it was based on his own genes, something destructive melded to be intelligent, as well. Inc yawned, a gesture of boredom as well as thought. If these kids didn't kick up the conversation, he was going to get out of there. Though he had just halted the escape of one of the two teenagers, the assassin still found himself reaping no rewards from such an action. Obviously the art of true conversation was lost on the newer generation. The sand-eyed male snorted softly, even as he mentally rolled his eyes at the way things were. Children grew up without real respect for their elders, these days. Back in his time (or so he thought he remembered), it was a requirement. Then again, he had been a wimp back then. Though he was glad for it, at least as far as the fact that he had saved Decore from her death by his tears. That was another strange side effect of his mutations. The experimentations. He hated not knowing what it was that had happened, though he tried to ignore it. Anger was of no assistance to him unless he was on a job. Which he didn't even have one right now, due to Mister Doesn't-show-up. Yep, that guy was probably dead where he walked. 'cause now he had an assassin that was pissed at him. Ah, no one wanted that. Especially not Incubus Nekhashi. The dark male flicked his blade out once more, toying with it, idle fingers allowing it to sway between them, then flit gently across the palm, caress the tip of his talon, and flick closed once more. The process was repeated, then changed. His eyes weren't even focused on it, it was almost an unnoticed, habitual action. Yet maybe part of that involuntary act was the silent menace that always seemed to loom around the smoker, who was quite dangerous, indeed, if provoked. The slightest pinprick of blood, purposefully drawn, allowed a crimson droplet to tumble towards the rain soaked ground. It touched the tip of Core's nose and she blinked irritably up at him. For that could have touched her pelt, a matter less easily remedied, seeing as its coloration was quite wildly different from the crimson hue. It would have stained, probably, and there would have been a day spent trying to remove it. Either that, or a few hours removing it with magic, then relaxation as the sorcerer tried to replenish his supply of magic. Though he would probably draw on the magic around him, not his personal store. <font color=black>"Ah... quite the paradox, that is."</font> He murmured softly, continuing to play idly with the blade, a thing that was almost an invisible blur of black. Both the blade and the hilt were that color, for just such a reason.
