Walking out into the murky atmosphere of Iredele, even from the comparatively safe and quiet confines of the defunct chapel, hit Highball like a cold front. Before her stretched a derelict street, as much grass and mud as chipped, nonsensically-laid cobblestone. On either side loomed buildings like funeral attendees, grim and tall. Were an artist to toil at a painting of this scene for months, he would need only trace quantities of brown to liven up a palate irrefutably gray and lifeless. No squalid shopfront or dingy doorway belied the slightest warmth or invitation. Despite the disturbing emptiness that plagued these streets, the air exhibited an uncanny thickness, a wafting soup able to fill the mouth if only it weren't so vile. Truly, Highball had trouble picturing a state in which this sorrow town would ever have played host to civilization. Meters above the street dangled the putrid carcass of a human, bathing the road with its abominable odor.
From beneath Kenji's heel a rat bolted for safety, the pitter of its tiny claws across muck and rock the only stirrings in the street's dead air. For all of a moment Highball flinched, before tilting her head and smirking at her companion's unease and the subsequent lackluster foot he threw the pathetic creature's way. After a moment, though, he turned his eyes on her. When he gathered himself to speak again, he issued forth words that Highball understood. “Ah,” she replied to his resolution to use English, in the manner of one enjoying a pleasant surprise. Ultimately, it made little difference to her. Guess I made the right choice. Kenji's next vocalization, unfortunately, necessitated a response. “Highball.” The response came curtly and brusquely, indicative of no further interest in small talk. By the looks of it, however, Kenji shared her disinterest; the slight bobbing of his head seemed semi-conscious at best.
Highball hopped backward the instant the ghastly scream passed her ears, with her own safety her immediate concern. Her companion did the same, more or less, and the two wasted no time in scanning their surroundings for any clues as to the dreadful noise's source. Before they came to a proper conclusion about what course of action to take, a man ran past. Highball eyed the charging fellow dubiously, determining it to be Donny, who by now had solidified himself in her mind at least as the action-oriented, IQ-questionable type sure to get himself killed in the first half hour to make sure she knew how deadly some monster was. No doubt envisioning himself the action hero, Donny made a beeline for a building and started clambering his way up it, using his axe as the piton in the damp, deteriorated wood. It's a marvel some walls or a roof don't collapse under the weight of his idiocy. Even if I am excited about this place, not even I ran in alone. The Ravenclaw served as a grim reminder that gargantuan birds resided in this nightmare, and Highball guessed a rooftop target would be a sitting duck.
She glanced back at Kenji, noting his gesticulation. While gallantry in a dream would get her nowhere, she imagined playing the hero might be fun, and decided to at least take a look at the problem. Kenji's plan, however, left her less than impressed. Alleys...where it's harder to see things coming, where attack can come from any angle, and where there's less room to dodge and swing weapons. Perhaps not the brightest plan of attack. She did like his plan to use Donny as bait, though that idea needed amending as well. Great! Donny is first bait, and you're second. No way am I waking up from this before I've had a good time. Tapping the side of her head twice with her cane, she shook her head, refusing to split off from him. When he took off down the left path, Highball followed close, vigilantly watching their backs for any sign of surprise attack. Her imagination raced to anticipate what fantastical beastie might lay ahead.
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