[center][color=6B4D8A][h2][u] Ysilla Al-Nader [/u][/h2][/color][/center]
[center][img]https://i.ibb.co/8cqsPKG/oie-jpg.png[/img][/center][hr]

[i]Tick,
Tock[/i]

The freshman dormitory had been enveloped in silence for the past hour aside from the subtle hymns of a ticking clock. It was a silence born from the intense focus required for the task. Under the light of an oil lamp and zoom of a few magnifying glasses, Ysilla worked on just one part of her craft. A drop of golden paint nestled on the end of the tiniest brush you might have ever seen. Delicately she worked to apply that drop across the raised ridge on the wooden carving of a lion's mane half-painted mane, denoting a single hair in that mane.

It was a level of commitment that was unnecessary but a self-exam of her abilities, nonetheless. The truth of it was, wood was not the best material to carve a lion puppet out of. It would only ever be life-like, not alive. The hair she just painted would never flow in the wind like that of a proud lion catching a breeze on a windy day. Aside from that, it was far too small to represent something proud being no larger than a common housecat. Yet it, along with the many other figures that sat in this room, watching their creator work on a new addition, were all prized for the lessons learned in their creation.

The eyes of animals, monsters, and even people were all simulated in Ysilla's dormitory. All given the same amount of care as this lion but only a handful were ever given more. Two of such acclaim, hung onto her, a passive extension of her unconscious will. They were kept close because they were far more than mere figures but tools to be used by should the need arise. That need was coming and she was ready the moment it arrived. She hardly went out anyway.

[hr]
She was one of a small number to arrive. Her presence came without sound, quietly but respectfully bowing the Paradigm as she separated herself the concentration of others, preferring to maintain a silent vigil over this sudden meeting. She sat, one hand layered over the other and listened to each as they talked. Details of what they were called her for and exchanges between the others were as equally important to her. How were they reacting and acting? It was curiosity of hers, not that she didn't react or act. Quite the contrary, she loved to do so when the moment was right but she could never break her more monotone expressions without it seeming too forced. It was her way and very much unlike her sister.

Ysilla accepted her sister's offer of coffee just as wordlessly as it was offered. There weren't too many words exchanged between the pair these days. Ysilla never was a conversationalist but there was little she had to say to her twin sister. Little she wanted to hear from her as well. With a focused stare, she'd watch her sister offer others coffee silently wondering what she has been up to lately.

It wasn't a very occupying thought as Jocasta took that attention as she politely refused a cup. Such a curious character to be present at this meeting. Sure wizards and witches didn't need strong constitutions but there was something disarming about seeing one in a wheelchair. She was such a small figure and yet as the meeting went on, she had such strong opinions despite her frailness and even timidness in her voice. Many plays would feature a character with such fragility. An apparent shortcoming that was made up for by a strong and noble heart and yet... 

[color=FFE4B5][i]Zamira[/i][/color]

Ysilla had been sitting near motionless, except to take the occasional drink of coffee, this entire meeting. At the mispronunciation of her sister's name, however, she tilted her head, expression bending into one of a mild ponder. It was a note far beyond the usual noble heart character. Her sister didn't even have a difficult name for non-native speakers to pronounce and yet here it was, passing the lips of someone that in the very next breath applied an extensive curtesy. Was it deliberate? Ysilla pondered for an answer, believing that it was but she tried to rationalize that belief by looking at who Jocasta was as a whole. Passive aggressive to make up for unintimidating appearance? An intriguing personality quirk.

There was little else in the meeting from that point on. They were given a blessing and a portal to go on their way. 

Emerging out into the sandy dark terrain of a desert night, Ysilla pulled her cloak closed in front of her, a subtle display of the cold bothering her. She made no sound of the discomfort as Jocasta announced the alert of incoming danger and being in the back, witnessed Ayla's struggle with the cold or fright. Delicate would be more suited to the lithe and small character falling onto the sand. The thought slipped into Ysilla's mind to help her up and even offer her place inside her cloak if it was truly the cold. They could be warmer huddled together but it wasn't the practicality that made Ysilla want to ask. She yearned for the Torragonese to be close to her. When the moment came to ask, her throat dried and she did not speak, letting the moment get away.

Regret was quick to follow as she watched her friend jump to her feet and move headlong into the encroaching Halassa.

Oh right.

Stepping forward, Ysilla made no urgent movements as she stood next to Jocasta. Watching the approaching beasts, she finally spoke. [color=6B4D8A]"Five encounters five."[/color] The towering Virangish would turn her head down at her sitting companion. [color=6B4D8A]"One for each of our party to trial against."[/color] She held the other's gaze, unmoving as if searching for something but her tone was as stern as it could be. This was not an observation but a demand. They were tasked with something dangerous and one that could be a liability wasn't worth having tag along. [color=6B4D8A]"Agreed?"[/color] She cocked her head ever so slightly to the side, towards the beasts.

If Jocasta say anything other than stating her agreement, Ysilla would turn and walk away. Without stopping a step, she'd fling her cloak open, allowing the cold to kiss her along her silk outfit underneath. One hand would reach behind her back, the magnetic magic already being channeled to make the black and gold clothed figure, Khamsei scamper out onto her arm. Her other hand pulled her hat from her head, revealing the nesting pearlescent lavender bird, Hoopoe. 

She'd lift Hoopoe out in front of her, the jester shaking his head with a monotone laugh. [color=aba000]"Haaahaaahaa."[/color] He rose to his feet, reaching up. Hoopoe rose to her feet and stretched her wings with caw. The bird then leapt from the top of Ysilla's head, her feet dangling for Khamsei to grab them and the pair took off into the air. Khamsei's laugh hollered across the dunes as the pair approached the Halassa. 

Hoopoe flapped her wings but something about how she flew seemed uncanny, like a bird caught in a wind. She was merely being pushed along by Ysilla's will. She watched the pair and almost passively, she made them move but even made moves ever so slightly. Like Khamsei's legs kicking wildly in the air like he was having a grand time, with his head turning to gaze at the landscape. 

His laughs, distant, but still audible as the pair came swooping in towards the head of one of the Halassa.