<table width=480px" cellpadding=3 cellspacing=0 bgcolor=#000000 style="border-left:1px #1a1a1a solid; border-top:1px #1a1a1a solid; border-right:1px #2f2f2f solid; border-bottom:1px #2f2f2f solid"><tr><td></img><font face="verdana"><font size="2"><span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'><span style='color:red'>Oh – my."</span>Ivumo tilted his head backwards and let the spray pepper his throat, the hairs of which glinted with the glossy sheen of the well dried blood. <span style='color:red'>"For an angry, agile thill you're amusingly clumsy. I've seen your kind before – the defined features. Are you a throw-back?"</span> He cocked his head to one side, showing more of an interest in Patajs' actions. There was a bit more to this one. She danced to a different beat. She was confident enough to confront him, but still 'green behind the ear', so that made her compulsive or unstable. Maybe even both. Ivumo wasn't alive to start a crash course in psychology; he wasn't one for getting into peoples' heads. He was one for removing them – when he had to. Yet acknowledging the apparent multi-tiered thill couldn't have been helped. As he thought for longer, his menacing fangs withdrew. She was no threat to him. A little obnoxious but not a threat. The wound on his leg was already beginning to stitch itself back up. He healed more quickly when he was still, and the air was moist enough to keep the opening of the laceration damp. <span style='color:red'>"On second thought... don't bother. You have enough trouble picking yourself up off the ground let alone standing up for yourself,"</span> the Poltergeist pressed down with one hand against the soft soil, and hoisted himself up against the trunk of his tree with the other by digging his less-threatening claws into the solid black mass. <span style='color:red'>"Your wing. It's broken,"</span> he waved once with the back of his hand in her general direction, <span style='color:red'>"I don't know how; answer me,"</span> a sideways blood-red piercing stare appeared, fading through the blackness of his eyes, acquiring the thill's own oculi, <span style='color:red'>"Why were you there? You weren't even a target."</span> Ivumo took a couple steps towards the arrow and wrenched it out of the tree. Examined with curious eyes, the tip of one finger investigated the arrow-head with equal curiosity, and cast Patajs one more glance. Best make the most of her while she was around. It probably didn't seem like it at that moment, but Ivumo'd never let his guard down – less so now that he was armed again.<tag /></td></tr></table></font face></font size>
She shook vigorously to rid herself of the clinging droplets; each movement sending throbs of pain from her broken wing to the rest of her body. She was oblivious to the sharpness of it, far too angry to notice such a small matter. Most of the blood and grime that’d been ground into her fur was filtered out by the water and whatever remained showered away and spattered back into the lake. Her fur thrilled with its full illustriousness; luminescent and glowing bright as starlight. Stretching out her soggy wings she moved them in great sweeps to dry them. It was hard to move her stiff limbs; everything was locked tightly with cold, but as she pumped blood back into them it became easier and she could tame her compulsive shivering. Sand clung to the bottoms of her feet as she advanced onto the shore, and the arden’s husky voice drilled miserably through her head. He taunted her with all the same cleverness as a playground bully, but as childish as it was she was hardly in the mood to let him get away with it. Patajs kicked aside the filthy cloths that lay in the path between her and the soon to be dead arden, they were far to dirty to put on and move around comfortably, for now she would have to travel in the nude. Her golden glare shot daggers towards Ivumo; this was the final straw, she was going to ring his fuzzy neck. Right then and there she would’ve lunged and would’ve been glad to die if it meant he would do the same, but the arden said something very funny and stopped her. He pointed out her broken wing. Was he an idiot or something? She had mentioned that just ten minutes earlier, but his dumb remark wasn’t what caught her interest. <span style='color:red'>“I don’t know how; answer me," </span>He turned and held her even stare. <span style='color:red'>“Why were you there? You weren’t even a target."</span> She looked at him incredulously for a moment and then a slow grin spread hugely across her maw. <span style='color:gray'>“Wasn’t I?" </span>She forgot her anger; this one was to interesting to kill. He was confident enough to confront her, but still ‘green behind the ear’, and that made him compulsive or unstable. Maybe even both. He didn’t seem much of a threat. Arrogant, but no threat. If he really intended to harm her; he would have done so by now. She strode up to the arden casually and watched him wrench the arrow form the trees bark yet again; splinters of wood spraying everywhere. He was FINALLY starting to make a connection. <span style='color:gray'>“Tell me something; because I have a question too," </span>She gazed from the arrow to Ivumo confidently.<span style='color:gray'> “Before… Was that your first kiss?"</span>
<table width=480px" cellpadding=3 cellspacing=0 bgcolor=#000000 style="border-left:1px #1a1a1a solid; border-top:1px #1a1a1a solid; border-right:1px #2f2f2f solid; border-bottom:1px #2f2f2f solid"><tr><td></img><font face="verdana"><font size="2"><span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Compulsiveness and instability were common errors. Had he been told, he would have expected no less from someone so common in trade and personality. Yes, he had only just mentioned about her wing. The only thing keeping him from grabbing the top, the bottom, stepping underneath and wrenching it off was the fact he found her attitude to be most intriguing – like a blind niotie wandering into the legendary Spirax's den. She didn't stand a chance, and was simply displaying her tenacity in the face of certain defeat. A trait he admired in his meat. It made it more tender. He watched her storm up the sandy bank, showing her petulant behaviour on the mound of clothes. He'd once heard Thills were unpredictable. What was it...? 'Rule #1: make sure the Arden never knows how or what you're thinking. Rule #2: if he ever begins to think he understands, change how and what you're thinking.' This came down to one thing. Thill's were unpredictable, and that fact alone made them predictable. She was there beside him in, really, no time at all. Her question – laced with ego – failed to get a visual rise out of him. <span style='color:red'>"You would be so lucky,"</span> In his mind, he had kissed before. He'd lain with mortal uncertainty and let it ravage his purpose to the point where... he couldn't recognize it any more. He let the arrow slip from his fingers towards Patajs' white body. Ivumo turned in place and brushed past her; his tail hung in place, extending straight out behind him from the tail bone, and wrapped itself loosely around her waist, sliding off down her side. <span style='color:red'>"Don't think you're anything special,"</span> He stopped in his tracks and shot her a sideways glance. <span style='color:red'>"And don't think you know me. It takes more than that to get to me."</span> The Poltergeist flicked his hand directly at her nude form. His low voice deepened at the end as he turned away again and seized his bag, pushing the items back in none too carefully. An old sjaa suited as a back rest. Twigs snapped under a giant paw that supported another turn in place and slump into the natural dip in the trunk. He casually blew a stray few strands of hair out of his eyes that themselves really held no interest in falling back on Patajs. <span style='color:red'>"You still didn't answer my question, Thill"</span> <tag /></td></tr></table></font face></font size>
<span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span> <table class='ooc'><tr><td> Yay, done. I hope you like it, let me know if you have any problems with it. </td></tr></table> Patajs smirked lazily and closing her eyes she inhaled deeply through her nostrils as the Arden brushed by with little interest in her porcelain white frame. His tail however had slipped away lambently over her naval and hips with his retreat. The heat of it melted right through her thin, damp, pelt and warmed the chilled flesh underneath. <span style='color:gray'>“Oh I’m positive luck had absolutely nothing to do with it…" </span> Flat chunks of dark clouds shrunk away from the steadily increasing glare of sunlight overhead; they twisted and curled in upon themselves like a picture set aflame. The aggressive golden blaze burned through the screen of jungle brume and washed the scenery in a yellow mother-of-pearl; wavelets of rippling lake water melted into the landscape like a kaleidoscope of light and shapes. Droplets of dew nestled in the fetters of Patajs’s tussled hair and were stained the same heavenly glaze of baked light. Her figure was outlined in a bloom of beauty, a beacon of some unearthly force, and dejectedly was left unappreciated. Ivumo rested his eyes elsewhere, he probably didn’t notice the eruption of his surroundings and he was oblivious to the Thill soaking it in. Had he gazed upon such a view maybe even the poltergeist would have relished in it. She turned her light gilded frame towards the Arden, and resting a hand on an out thrust hip she blew out a bemused sigh. His comments had been nothing but the bitter rant of a bruised pride. Patajs watched him slump his bulk against a tree, she could here the branches snap and its trunk groan under his great weight, aware that she’d rattled him more than those squared shoulders let on. The assassin made it her business to know people, it made them much easier to manipulate, and she could easily sum up Ivumo’s character in four sentences or less. He was nothing special, he wasn’t some complex dark and mysterious figure, he was just a boy, and she could see his soul. His words might have been the fumes of experience. Especially since he was able to keep a straight face in the front of her psychological prodding, but she’d judged his reaction down to the minutest detail and she could tell with little effort that he’d only retreated from the situation. Ivumo rested under his tree a safe distance from her foreign opposition of will and asked again about uninteresting old news. He changed the subject rather gracelessly she thought, and made herself comfortable among the roots of her own tree. Her skin still prickled with a cold burn and every movement stung and throbbed painfully. She thought about his question and decided it was only fair since he so gratefully answered hers. <span style='color:gray'>“Oh, I killed a lot of people, someone decided they didn’t like that and hired a bunch a' third rate mother %*&#@&$ to put a bullet in my brain or a knife in my guts. They probably figured out everyone’s dead by now, I wanted to go find out who it was who had the balls to try and off me before they sent someone at least half way decent to finish the job, but seeing as I’m being practically held hostage here that plan’s too-little too-late."</span> She picked her teeth and after casually examining her findings flicked it away. <span style='color:gray'>“Hey, you got any cloths I can borrow? I’m freezing my ass off here…" </span>
<table width=480px" cellpadding=3 cellspacing=0 bgcolor=#000000 style="border-left:1px #1a1a1a solid; border-top:1px #1a1a1a solid; border-right:1px #2f2f2f solid; border-bottom:1px #2f2f2f solid"><tr><td></img><font face="verdana"><font size="2"><span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'> Her tone had softened. She wasn't bearing her proverbial teeth any-more. Patajs may have made it her business to know her prey, but Ivumo didn't have to make anything his business, as such. It came naturally to him. Knowing that Patajs learned the hard way as but only half the battle won. There was still much hidden under that virginal - if not actually a virgin herself - pelt that had to be uncovered at some point or another. He'd either pull it out with his claws or let her spill her own mess. Clothes. Clothes... The Poltergeist flicked one eye lid open at his bag, slumped over on its left side - its contents spewed a little over the grassy knoll. He didn't have clothes for her, but he probably had something that would suffice. After all, it wasn't exactly pleasant to have a nude, anorexic, shrill Thill around him. He could at least lessen the impact of the aforementioned issues. Invariably, Ivumo wasn't one for shaking himself dry. He had a couple towels he'd managed to liberate by questionable means from a couple hotels in his time. Often by the cover of dark, supply stores were hit to pick up more useful garments, trinkets or necessities. Casually, the Vampiric Poltergeist reached over with one outstretched finger and teased the opening of the bag to face more towards him. An almost puzzled, yet certainly calculating expression sat around the edges of his dark eyes and maw as his paw delved deeper in search for the soft fabric. The gentle fibres brushed against his finger tips. Instantly he seized the cloth and pulled it forcefully from its hold. In one slick motion, he chucked the huge towel at Patajs. By huge, it was possible to wrap twice around him. He had no idea what the purpose was of it, but he found a pack of five in Watani. Each towel, in its respective sealed plastic wrapping, occupied a four feet cubed area of space on the shelves. It should have served Patajs' needs adequately. It was tinted grey, so even someone as fickle as the Virginal Assassin herself could appreciate the natural contrast. <span style='color:red'>"That better do - 'cuz it's all I got."</span> Ivumo closed his eye again. <span style='color:red'>"You speak like you know what it means to kill. Do you?"</span> He shuffled in place, pushing more of his back into the recess of the trunk, and folded his arms across his chest; his right ear twitched at the sound of a branch cracking - nothing more than the decapitated 'dragon finally falling back to the jungle floor. <tag /></td></tr></table></font face></font size>
She blinked slowly and brushed back her unruly tresses with gentle fingers. Her face was hard and tired, and she was occupied with growing worries of the trouble she was probably in. The assassin was well aware that her previous attackers were only fodder; expendable, moronic, buffoons hired to test her and to tire her. They had done their job, and she'd fallen right into the design their employer intended, like an amateur. Patajs sent a rush of air through her nostrils in disgust; she had let herself get completely out of control, how foolish. A cold breeze rattled her from her mental criticism and she turned a wandering eye towards Ivumo, to see if her request for clothing had appealed to him. She rigidly came to attention and reached out gratefully with both arms as the tarp-sized cloth fluttered and snapped though the air. Her fingers brushed the rough material purposefully, and in a few fluid movements she buried herself into its thick folds until only a pink nose was visible under the mound. She resembled an oversized marshmallow. The thill snuggled into the clean, dry fabric and sighed in comfort. She didn’t question Ivumo’s motive for such generosity, she was just relieved to have something to protect her from the snapping cold. <span style='color:red'>"You speak like you know what it means to kill. Do you?"</span> Patajs peeked her face out from under the cloth. <span style='color:gray'>“You had your turn to ask something, now it's mine..."</span> Ivumo had asked a sly question, probing beyond superficial inquiries. She narrowed her eyes in suspicion, but had no time to guess at his game. She had to start taking her predicament seriously. She pulled back the hooded cloth from over her head, and gazed at him with intense eyes. Patajs knew the arden was a crucial piece in dodging an early end; there’s no way she’d be able to navigate her way out of this jungle without flight. The thill hated to admit it, but she needed Ivumo’s cooperation. If she played her cards maybe she could maneuver him in her favor. <span style='color:gray'>“I don’t have anything for you in return," </span>She shrugged her shoulders to indicate the towel he’d given her. <span style='color:gray'>“So I hope you weren’t expecting mutual benefit."</span> It was the closest thing to a thanks she could muster. Patajs rose and pulled the over-sized cloak tighter around her defined shoulders, the excess folds pooling around her lambently, “It’s my turn to ask the questions." She padded over to him gracefully with the slack fabric cascading behind her like a river, rippling with each stride. <span style='color:gray'>“If I hadn’t made it clear before I’m probably in some deep $#!% right now. Since you brought me here I’m holding it to you to take responsibility. I need your help to get me out of here in one piece; I need a place to hide until I can figure out who’s got it out for me. Will you cooperate?"</span>
<table width=480px" cellpadding=3 cellspacing=0 bgcolor=#000000 style="border-left:1px #1a1a1a solid; border-top:1px #1a1a1a solid; border-right:1px #2f2f2f solid; border-bottom:1px #2f2f2f solid"><tr><td></img><font face="verdana"><font size="2"> If there was one thing with which Ivumo was unfamiliar it was Pendragons asking questions. He took it for granted that things would be demanded of him. In this case, there was little he could do to turn his eyes away from her's, as he considered the ramifications of 'helping' Patajs out of Vivuli. The Vampiric Poltergeist was morbidly interested in how snappily she'd responded to his own vehement behaviour; he discarded the notion that Patajs could possibly be in it to play a fair game. But back to the nitty-gritty: Was he going to help her find some place to lay low? His wounds were still pretty bad, but enough blood had congealed and clotted to give him a fighting chance at properly healing. <span style='color:red'>"You tell me where I can get some decent, ordinary, food, and I'll help you."</span> Ivumo turned his head away, keeping his blood red discs centred on the ambers above him. <span style='color:red'>"...Or if I take you somewhere, you'll show me good food."</span> The instant he finished saying "food" he wanted to leap up and either kill Patajs or kill himself. He wasn't alive to make compromises with anyone! Yet, he let his eyes fall to the ground on his right, and remembered that being a "Vampiric Poltergeist" was something he was running from... <span style='color:red'>"I'll bloody help you."</span> He grumbled with a clear sense of dislike for himself. <tag /></td></tr></table></font face></font size>
Patajs shuffled the fabric of her wrap and maneuvered a porcelain hand from beneath its many folds. She coolly tilted her head back and ran long fingers through her bounds of white hair. It was all too easy… With that simple nudge she had Ivumo where she needed him to be, however grudgingly. The corners of mouth tugged upwards in satisfaction; all he’d needed was a little coaxing, like trying to get a stray macy to eat a scrap of meat from her hand. If she played the game right she won’t get her hand bitten as well. Patajs’ eyes squared their sights on the frame of a very dejected looking Ivumo, and she sighed through her nose at the sad sight. <span style='color:gray'>“Geez, am I really so difficult to get along with?…" </span>The thill didn’t wait for any sort of reply, and untangling herself from the rough material of her cloak she commenced rubbing it heartily against her thin fur. The friction invigorated her stiff flesh and also sent earthquakes of pain fanning though her aching ligaments and shattered wing. She let out a wounded growl, but didn’t even consider slowing down. Finally, with her fur bristled and hair gorgeously disheveled and dry, she threw the cloth to the side in an exaggerated motion. Hands resting easily on her curved hips she stood with a renewed sense of energy, and appetite at the mention of “good food". Golden discs once again roving over the grumbling vampire she briefly wondered at his amusing character. She thought it might be entertaining to have him around for a while… If anything else he would at least prove useful. <span style='color:gray'>“You need some pie."</span> Patajs shielded her eyes from the glaring, early-morning sun as she turned to face it, and her belly murmured soft and longingly for the craved confection.<span style='color:gray'> “I know a place that makes pie good enough to turn you off anything else…"</span>
