[h2][color=purple]Շђє ς๏ภՇг๏ɭɭєг[/color][/h2]
[hr]
	[color=gray]An unceremonious pile of weathered, thick wrappings and a purple hide cloak shift into a recognizably humanoid silhouette. Plum-dyed leather gloves finger the frigid, dusty stone ground beneath her as a similarly-wrapped devilish tail flicks at her heels. As she recollects having a corporeal form she pushes her body up from the floor. For a moment, she considers how consciousness doesn't agree with her, thinking on how well she could have fared in the nightmarish subreality versus this empty place.[/color]

	[color=purple][i]"Ik feln'ger nora ren. Nivirra ren giv lokka ik."[/i][/color] [color=gray]Mumbling and leaning on her side now, the lined hood drifting down her four horns to their fitted place and a mask coalescing to reveal only the covered jaw, presumably for eating and speaking. Her eyes from beneath the mask scan the area, taking in the various figures around her and their belongings. The thought of looting them crossed her mind, but it turns out each of them have survived the same ordeal she just went through. She may be a bit of an opportunist, but a thief she isn't. As if reminded once again she has a physical body, her right hand instinctively reaches to her hip, expecting [i]something[/i] to be there but it's empty. She laments the mysteriously vacant spot.[/color]

	[color=gray]Rather than whatever she subconsciously expected, she is pleasantly surprised to feel the weight of something foreign hanging from her neck. Her face drops downward, nearly pressing her chin to her chest as she attempts to look at the object before finally reaching up and taking the thing into her fingers. A whistle, one that is such a dark blue it reminds her of... [i]a different place[/i]. A place uncontained and endless. The very thought relaxes her as she fondles the whistle, simple in its design except for a talon shape etched into its left side. Holding the whistle to her neck is what looks to be a chain of tarnished silver, each link so intricately small yet masterfully crafted it could easily send her into a rabbit hole of wonder.[/color]

	[color=gray]Instead, she turns her attention to a nearby cane that is unnaturally and crookedly standing on its end as if held by some invisible person. It has no lateral handle but a platinum cap and a rounded platinum tip, with the shaft some type of varnished black wood. She reaches out and grabs it by the handle, the grasp both familiar and comfortable to her, and at this point stands with no strained effort. The way she moves now is clear that she doesn't need the cane to walk, and in fact tosses it gently so she could grab it by its center. She again inspects the space around her, waiting for another to meet her.[/color]

	[color=purple][i]"Faer wik lirikk aer'ganan! Nivirra ren giv lokka ren nirak?"[/i][/color] [color=gray]A hand falls to her hip and the cane is raised over her shoulder, a stance that is more curious rather than impatient with the tilting of her head.[/color]