[color=slategray]
	As Charlotte carried Mallory to town like some reverse Prince Charming, they were past by a figure layered head to foot in plated mail of white, pure as the driven snow, that was expertly bolted together with bindings and rivets of black, like a corporealized craftings of space. Upon their head, a horned helm that fronted an faceless mask with but two silted voids where eyes could be approximated on a standard human face.

A Samurai, by immediate design, their weapons were obvious against their ethereal design; a katana resting in an ivory scabbard, inlain with an intricate, swirling pattern of onyx, and a wakizashi seated within a scabbard of what smelt of coal, designed with scales of bone. However, most triumphant of their armaments was their mount; no mere, meager thoroughbred, but a beast of true might in in triplicate, harnessed and reigned by magicked, dragon-scale gilding.

A Chimera.

	Untameable lion. Insatiable goat. Deceiving snake. Beasts of might, hardiness, and guile, fused to a singular form and blessed by their bestial knowings. And, it was their mount. Royalty of Beasts, reduced to a mere riding horse. As the beast stepped by with footfalls like thunderclaps, the Samurai looked down at their traveling companions-in-passing, and then carried on. Ahead of them, and beyond, on towards the forest in which hid the twosome would take residence in...
[hr]
	In her restlessness, C-3 surged with emotion; her home lost to fire, anew, and irreparable. Her body was still weak, Stamina still lower then she could function with, and yet, she forged herself a hand that slapped the cave floor; fingers ended by three-inch long claws, and, in spite of the goo, scaled by her flash powder spines from base to shoulder, as she formed as entire arm. It was difficult, remembering what a human form consisted of... arms, ended by hands, by fingers, by nails, but end at an elbow, no... a shoulder... [color=chocolate][i]It ends at the shoulder...[/i][/color]

A wing, large, spanning, ripped free of the thick surface, as C-3 struggled to remember. So much magic was wasted. She was just a slime. Talented, but still a beast -- one unable to do more than pretend. A slime had their station in life, didn't they? Recycling; all matter, no matter what, could be busted down by their form, and the worst places could be make habitable within time with smart application of her mindless kin

[color=chocolate][i]That's all Charlotte needs me for...[/i][/color]

	Her thoughts were dour, and her form rippled; firmity sapped, suddenly. C-3 didn't feel like leaving her lute; her prison that Charlotte thought so cute for her. Would that she have never seen that Carbon Dragon, and never seen a beast of such caliber. Would that she'd perish in the Carbon Dragon's World-shaping Ability, Carbonflagration, and become Carbonite with her old world. Would that she never been inspired with the thought, '[color=chocolate][i]I, too, could be such a beast,[/i][/color]’ and never gained sapience.

Carmella Celina Charr, a name cobbled together from snippets and snatches of conversation. C-3, a nickname given by those with tongues too lazy, and a skill that only Archwizards could lay claim to. Not a beast. Not a slime. Not someone like her, so foolish to dream she could be more. As if simmering, her slime bubbled with a cacophonous mixture of oils, herbal and wooden, which scattered as bursts of bubbles and leaked down the sides of her prison.

Even a mere slime knew sadness... and, a broken dream could bring anyone tears...
[hr]
	A keening cry escaped the mewling, bleating, and hissing mouths of a newborn Chimeras, as blind eyes probed the world for desperation of attention. Bound to a nearby tree, an old oak, and muzzled against all mouths, the mother struggled to meet the needs of her child, but found her leash incomparably shorter than ever before. “[color=pink]Rest yourself,[/color]” says the Samurai, as they looked up. “[color=pink]This is, but, another in the cycle that befalls your kind. A beast without a host of care for humanity must be tamed by that which they care for not, 'lest they misstep and vanish beneath an unseen heel.[/color]”

Jerking forward, the mother Chimera tried to sweep a claw out at the Samurai whom she had entrusted her life to, and fought as one with. Unwavering, the Samurai simply held the infant beast up, and fed the lion head with a bottle of milk passed down through generations. “[color=pink]Your mother struggled, as did hers, and, in time, this one, too, will struggle, as is her fate,[/color]” says the Samurai, “[color=pink]A beast is to be tamed and learned. This is our last time together. Hate me, if you will, it trials me not. Goodbye, Regalia, your daughter succeeds you. And, shall never know you.[/color]”

Turning, the Samurai smiled beneath their mask, as they Chimera struggled to free herself, instinctively driven to give chase, and emotionally driven to right this betrayal. “[color=pink]We've much to accomplish, Regalia,[/color]” they say, petting the goat head, “[color=pink]That vampire must die, after all to keep the sun shining on this God-blessed World.[/color]” Infantilely ignorant, the newest to the line known as Regalia, made a happy series of sound. She was needed, and loved, by the figure she knew as mother.

That was perfect.
[/color]