Fallenreaper — Roleplayer Guild

Mar

Before the human had reached into hearing range, Mar’s eyes lazily noted the Fallen Orc’s slight walk around her as his eyes lowered to glimpse the limp Wood Elf. She was glad the words out of his mouth were about the opening ceremony and didn’t insist she kill the humanoid. It likely would’ve been pointless and more a pain since it caused disagreeable reactions from other bipeds. Instead his form leaned down to haul the creature into his arms, likely to make the travel faster as he eager to be off. She didn’t understand why such significance should’ve been tied to this day. For her, and many like her, it was any other day. When he cradled the Wood Elf’s unresponsive body in his arms, the Naga was glad to have more mobility and freed from the clumsy weight but her thoughts had trailed off just after the new arrival came. Her reaction was a warning and instinctual causing the man, all she could make from his faint scent, to stop dead in his tracks.

He held his hands, slowly, as he walked towards him. Her eyes looked over, studied the garments from the mask which hide his face to his outfit that outlined his form for easy movement. Personally she didn’t like clothing. It served little purpose, only hindered her torso’s mobility while making her skin itch and redden.

Tyrael was the first to speak, breaking her from thoughts. Her body relaxed, slowly fell from its aggressive posture yet remained alerted. The man’s voice confirmed her tongue’s earlier flick scenting was correct as she narrowed her eyes upon him, clearly suspicious of him. It seemed he had gotten himself locked out. Some that seemed typical of certain males and something made her think this one would fit well in that area within her mind. Tyrael had proven himself several times over but this male hadn’t even the chance to, his currently mishap had dampened her expectation slightly. Why most humans are so curious? She questioned in a fleeted moment, only wasting time in their conversation that could’ve been used to farther their path to the College and rid them of the current wounded. Her eyes shifted to Tyrael giving a slight look against the time wasted. It was one she displayed on a few hunts with him, when the few times her instincts had actually been right to move, and hoped to encourage their departure once more. They far too exposed out here for her liking.

Already her coils showed signs of anxiety before the man’s voice became directed at her, her head snapped to him with an intense look. Her eyebrow raised but gave a short answer, the shorter version of her name as only those like Tyrael or other of her kin had earned the right to use the longer one. “Mar.”

Her head tilted upright to see yet another creature, leafy and odd, come trampling towards them. What looked like hands waved over her head, her voice distorted and cut out that only a few words were made out. Without thinking, Mar’s tongue once more tasted the air. It smelt strongly of sweet and coco, a rare spice found in a few parts of Yarsomere. At the only word she knew most about, Rune, her head turned to the Fallen Orc as if asking him if she was a friend of his. Though they both knew otherwise, at she thought so.

“We’re wasting time… just bring both of them along and let’s enter the College, we’ll sort things out there.” Mar’s voice made the suggestion clear to all involved but her body language was still on edge, her figure waited for the other two to move first before she followed.

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon

Emily

Emily felt dread and pain swell in her heart when she willing volunteered to go back to the badlands once more. It was a hard decision and one she partly regretted after learning Lux wouldn’t be accompanying her this time, it would’ve been a comfort to lean upon someone who had shared in her hellish mistake. Out of all the mission’s mishaps, it was her biggest regret of trusting Cerberus. Vivid images of fire, screaming sounds, and suffering all around her played in her head over and over in the days before this mission that now she looked rather tired and drained thanks to restless nights. She had expected to see the scorched desert still burning, yet now it seemed to be nothing more than a healed scar upon the land itself. A thing, like many, lost in the desert’s sands.

It didn’t surprise her at how easily the desert adapted to what seemed to be an aftermath to the Mother Dragon’s rage. The fire was so hot it had turned sand into glass, the walls see through and almost misshapen in appear but anything within was hidden by the shifting sands. Emily was slightly edgy, her eyes wandered over the Sand Drakes as they milled around the small bowlike structures. She hadn’t forgotten what had happen, her mind set in defend rather than kill, and became alert even while they hadn’t so much as glanced her way. She stood there and watched, they either piled more sand upon their homes or helped the little lizards back into the sand where they then disappeared from sight.

Her attention was jerked away from the Sand Drakes by Fran’s uncharacteristic glee, their companion and thankfully the translator. A fact made known when Fran made a correction on Emily’s pronunciation. She was inwardly relieved that neither Cerberus’s nor her weak translation skills would be needed at all. In the end, she wouldn’t forgive her spirit for valuing her life over another’s. That fact alone had caused a painful stress in their relationship as holder and spirit as well as companions.

“It’s not a surprise in the desert. Animals either adapt their world to themselves or adapt to it, much like the people in Soule did.” Emily commented. It was the first mentioned, other than with Lux, about her hometown. Though the positive part was the werecats, unlike the Sand Drakes, were less likely to slaughter them. At least she had hoped so.

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