[Pig's Foot Tavern] Unexpected Predator (Musca)

[Stigandr]

19th of Spring, 512 A.V. The had set just under two chimes ago, bringing with it a chill night on the outside of the tavern, the warmth of the fire welcome as Stigandr entered the tavern. His eyes scanned the tables, noting a half dozen patrons sitting at five different tables, the pair looking shading in their silent talking with one another. Tugging his hood forward more, he turned and walked to the bar, "I would like a mug of ale," he stated flatly, placing the necessary payment down on the counter and taking his change, having brought just enough mizas to buy one mug of ale so he would not be kicked out for taking up space for free. Looking around, Stigandr singled out the table on the left wall, taking his mug of ale from Merv and moved to sit down with his back to the wall, watching the patrons around him with a passive interest that lasted but moments. The tavern was warm thanks to the fire burning, casting a gentle yet harsh light at the same time, the shadows dancing along the walls in elegant jumps and sharp jerks. It was almost mesmerizing to the Kelvic, and something that kept his mind distracted for several minutes at a time, just enjoying the peace and quiet thus far. The recent days had been taxing on the Kelvic and he was tired of being cramped, not going out, even though he hated the scent of these humans and how close they could get to him physically. Everything was a threat, every look a challenge to his freedom. He trusted no one, with the exception of a couple of acquaintances he had made recently. But they were not here right now, so he enjoyed his lonely night. Occasionally someone would come in and sit down, someone else would leave, but nothing happened thus far. But the peace was about to be disturbed. As one of many breezes found its way into the tavern, barely noticed by anyone, Stigandr picked up a scent that got his attention immediately, setting his nerves on end. It was a scent he recognized as a predator race, one he had only ever seen once before in his travels. Standing up, he walked towards the door, stopping a couple yards back from the frame, looking out into the night air. His eyes scanned across the street, looking in the shadows normal humans could not see, and then proceeded to look up at the sky, trying to catch a glimpse of the winged creature flying. He could not see anything, so he stepped forward to the door frame, looking up and down the street carefully, unable to pick up the scent he had just smelled but a minute ago. Maybe it was just a passing moment, he thought to himself and went back to his seat, keeping his eyes trained on the door, waiting to see if the scent came back or if the owner of the scent came into the building.

[Musca]

There was a measure of sweetness in indulging in a good ale, a latest discovery that the female Zith had realised since her stay. It had been four days since her meeting with that human male, four days since her muscles had been strained. Even now, she could still feel the creek of her ligaments as she moved, a reminder of their meeting. Musca was not pleased. She needed a break. A short trip to recharge her spirits. But she had gotten lost amidst the sprawling metropolitan of Sunberth, lost in a crowd that plagued her sensitivity- the noise, the smell, everything. Even the night was no reprieve of it's bustle. In fact, every humanoid creature seemed to relish on the darkness it provided, crawling to the nearest light source or slinking back into the shaded of all alleyways. It seemed as if the people here worked with some internal drive that gave them energy- a hidden spring in which they dug into when sleep threatened them. She let herself be washed away in the procession of humans that pooled in the streets, spilled from houses built on scummy gravel and brawling corners. Truly Sunberth was a place where all vermin slept in- lacking the varnish of olden cities that clustered in the Syrlias region and missing out on the finer points of elegance that seemed so celebrated by the Civil World. But it had something that few cities could only hope to attain- a sort of anarchic mess that made sense if looked at detail. In this city, there were cheap thrills, good shots and fine stories to be made. Simply put, it was the embodiment of possibilities- another realm where civility and savageness clashed. And how wonderful it was. The crowd had ushered her inside a familiar dwelling- where the warmth of the fire greeted her as boldly as the leering gazes of drunken men and women. She'd never been much for subtlety; Musca never believed in refusing a good resource when it's there. She didn't say much as she wondered in, but she held eyes that searched for her's at least once, adding a measure of sway in her hips as she walked, the fabric of her cloak playing along with the contours of her form. Grass. She could smell grass. She swung wildly towards the direction of the scent, her eyes scanning the crowd of stupid drunkards, mouth watering at the sweetness of it's fragrance, reminding her of all trifling details of a lofty time. It was a scent of a memory- the sea of grass, of moonlit walks and campfire smoke. Of lover's blood. A memory, nothing more. Push it out. She almost passed him for another, if it weren't for the intensity of his eyes. They were rich brown and held something more than simple lust. Something that reminded her strongly of the look she was subjected to when she caught prey animals. Musca gave a vague smile, unsure of his true nature. Humans didn't smell like him at all. Without wasting another moment- she pushed herself through groping hands and pulled up a chair opposite of his. But despite her forwardness, despite the sudden boldness in impulse, she kept her mouth shut, watching. Simply watching. Like the flicker of flames, her expression changed into something akin to a whore's- one which was meant to trap and lead customers into a corner for a tumble in the dark, hoping to score for quick coins. But unlike them; she had her face at her disposal. Musca smiled sweetly, long lashes batting coyly as she fixed him with her most bashful expression. "An ale for a greeting would be nicer than a stare." noteMusca's wings are hidden inside her long coat, so she's indistinguishable from a normal human

[Stigandr]

The night progressed on slowly, not much time passing since he had acquired and lost that familiar scent. The scent was as familiar as one dog to the next, but you could tell it was a dog. This scent had kept him on his guard for the next several minutes until it had passed, the foul scents of unwashed bodies, alcohol and sewage once again filling his nostrils and mind. This city was nothing more than a rat-hole where vermin of all sorts made their lives. But it was the only place Stigandr felt he could be himself and defend himself freely without punishment. No one here cared what you did within boundaries, and Stigandr was able to stay within though boundaries by the nature of his character to stay away from others. Slowly, several more patrons shuffled in and took seats after buying their drinks. There it is again! he thought to himself. That scent, familiar, but not with undertones that were different. Ones that made his skin crawl. He thought he could smell blood, but the scent was masked by something greater, something akin to walking into the room of a whore after she had...performed her duties to a patron. He could feel the hairs on his arms stand on end, his eyes searching the patrons entering the tavern until they fell to one in particular. This woman had stopped upon entering, appearing as if trying to figure something out before seeing him. Her eyes were a deep blue color, something unnatural to humans, hinting at another bloodline in her past, or her not being human at all. Her hair was a dark as the night sky outside the tavern, long and flowing in a waves. She began to walk towards him, her hips swaying gently, catching his attention momentarily before the scent slapped him across the face again, his eyes snapping back up to her. He felt like prey again, like he had several times in his life when monsters had found him appetizing during the first years of his life when he traveled with the caravans. Something was amiss with this creature. The effect he had just felt and the look in her eyes raised the hairs on his neck, sending shivers down his human spine. "An ale for a greeting would be nicer than a stare," she spoke to him, sitting across from him. Her eyes stared into his still, and he pulled his hood forward so the shadow of it fell over his eyes, shrouding them in darkness again. He had been a fool to let his eyes even be seen, the nature of them too tempting for the wrong person who noticed them. His head cocked to the side as her look became one of seductiveness, the sensation of longing growing in his bones, but broken as he took a breath in again, her scent breaking the spell she seemed to be putting towards him. I have to get out of here. This woman is wrong. I should not feel these desires. With the shadows concealing his eyes, Stigandr looked beyond her, avoiding her face. He had figured out looking at her was triggering these feelings, so maybe not looking at her would avoid them. He hoped. "You approached me. I owe you nothing. You should leave from me now. Find someone else to talk to." His voice was flat, sounding almost harsh, and it probably was with the danger he was feeling from this woman. He was in no mood for games, not that he ever was, and proceeded to stand up with his mug of untouched ale, his eyes glancing at her for a moment, the longing returning. This time, he sat back down and looked at her, noticing fine grey hairs...or fur?...covering her body, but it was attractive. Sex. Blood. Making a deep sound from his chest, Stigandr stood up and began to push his way through the crowd to the other side of the tavern, nearer the door, trying to shake the image of this foul creature from his head, while at the same time grasping at the undertones of her scent he kept picking up, knowing it to be the only thing that kept him from being confused by her.

[Musca]

A giggle escaped her throat, her bad mood unravelling. Though the shroud of his hood tried to conceal his features, it was redundant. She could still see curve of his jaw, the coarseness of his beard and the alarm that he held in his peculiar eyes. He was tense, looking as if he was about to bolt out of the building... and yet, there was a whisper of intrigue belying the alarm- a hint of an ache he couldn't quite shake off. His harsh words meant nothing to her, for she was far too high off the amusement he had served her with. Though his ache was unsaid and unwanted, it did wonders on her ego. Briefly, her mind wondered what he'd do if she would touch his hand, but he stole the moment before she could act on the whimsy. He scraped the chair back against the floor with all of the bravado of an insulted man. And yet, he returned once more to sit, his eyes gravitated back to her's and told tales of his desire for more than just misplaced hostility. Musca flashed him a knowing smile while rewarding him with the sight of her cleavage as she leaned in closer to him with her arms folded across her chest. "It's too bad," she crooned softly, "that you can't seem to leave me be." He emitted some sort of sound deep within his chest and left brusquely, leaving with such a disorientated look. Now alone in the table, Musca laughed, her shoulders shaking from the force of her laughter. What a piece of work that man was! Running away at the first sight of danger! Her laughter doubled. -- She stayed for a while in the tavern, chatting merrily with the humans that now flocked to her, laughing and listening as they brought in exotic stories for her to hear while sipping the ale that they had ushered into her hands with a glint in their eyes. It was obvious what their plans were, so obvious that it was too much of a cliché to be used. But she let them anyway, liking the attention that they basked on her. The first to claim the plan was a man. A hand slipped into the arch of her back, lips brushed her jaw as it formed words that invited her out into the open streets that marvelled the night sky. Playing the fool that he wanted, she nodded sweetly. With a hand still at her back, he guided her in some dingy alley, one that she had passed a while ago and pressed her against the wall, the rough texture of the bricks catching the fabric of her cloak. He claimed the first act, seizing her lips and ravishing her neck with drunken stupor. His hands travelled southbound, feeling the fullness of her breasts. Apparently, the human was quite a screamer. While he gave himself to her, Musca counted the amount of freckles he had on his back, trying to extinguish the tedium that built up with every thrust he made. "Where the petch do you think you're going, whore?" The human gasped after he had withdrawn himself from her, his voice taking an edge as she pulled away from his form with barely concealed disinterest. "I'm not done with you yet." "That's nice but I'm already bored with you," she stifled a yawn, "so I'm going home." Slap The sharp contact of skin mewled in the streets of Sunberth, already drowned out by similar sounds that rolled comfortably with it. It had company, a sound of another distant music from another place. A hallow sound that seemed so lonely yet so alive. It burned a heat inside of her, the crisp crackle of mania taking lead in her brain. Musca didn't notice her hand reaching into the back of her boots where her daggers were tactfully kept- didn't notice herself plunging the blade and twisting it into the fat of his stomach, nor swiping the other dagger jaggedly across his neck with brutish effort as she took advantage of his pain. Blood erupted from the broken skin, spraying her clothes and face with crimson liquid without signs of stopping. The body, now corpse, sunk on it's knees and fell on the floor. With nary a thought, her foot descended down his face again and again until it became indistinguishable from the swollen bruises. Finally satisfied, Musca calmed her breathing and smoothly soothed her hair back from her face, half marvelling at her rough work. It certainly lacked the finness of an assassin's smooth cut, but it did the job, albeit messily. Amused, Musca bent down at the corpse, placing a fleeting kiss on it's lips as she twisted her blade free from the gut. Without thought, she licked the blade clean of blood, her mind wandering to other places. oocsucky post is sucky! >.<

[Stigandr]

After heading to the other side of the tavern, Stigandr had sat down for a little while longer, watching as this creature proceeded to seduce and entice several other patrons that were in the Pig's Foot. The sight was bothersome to Stigandr, almost like watching prey going for the bright and pretty distraction of a predator, just before being killed. Unable to stomach watching any longer, and feeling the tug of her allure again, he stood up and left, leaving his full mug of ale on the table. The fresh air was like spring water washing over him. It cleared out his head, removing the traces of the woman's scent inside, taking his attention from the sound of her laughter which was almost as seductive and enticing as the rest of her. His feet began to carry him down the street with the intention of finding someplace to sleep and rest for the night. That was until he heard her voice again, carried on the wind that was blowing at his back, so I'm going home." Turning around quickly, Stigandr almost expected to see her close to him, but she was not in sight. Am I hearing things? Does she still have a hol... The sound of a hard slap cut his thought short, his feet suddenly carrying him slowly down the street in some morbid curiosity. He knew he should flee, but he was unable to resist finding out what was going on. Pushing his way past person after person, groping hands and stale breath, unwashed bodies and festering wounds, Stigandr moved towards the sound, unable to pick out which alley it had come. That was when he smelled it. The coppery scent that always went with a fresh kill. Blood. It filled his senses completely, blocking out the other scents for a moment as he looked down an alley where it was strongest. In the darkness, he could faintly make out a silhouette of what appeared to be a woman standing over a corpse that received several kicks as it lay on the ground.In transfixed horror, Stigandr watched the creature bend down to retrieve something, unable to fully discern what it was or what the creature was doing. No matter, he needed to leave. If she was the same she-devil from earlier, his presence might get him into a fight he did not. Turning quickly and ignoring the people asking what he had been staring at so long, not that they care so much as just were nosy and more worried about other people's business, he walked back down the street with the wind to his back, so that any hint of her scent would easily reach him long before she could. He was very aware he was the prey and she was the predator, especially if she found out he had been around her again. His pace quickened, shuffling past people, not caring how close they got to him, he just needed to be free of this place.

[Musca]

There it was again. Grass. She closed her eyes, greedily gulping down the aroma that covered Sunberth with such poignant memories. For a moment, she felt the familiar touch of a hand on her skin- warm, comforting... in her minds eye, his smile replayed itself over and over again, a ghost of it’s former glory. He was so dazzaling, so blindly brilliant that it shook her very soul and heart. With the memory came the passion she felt for him, still alive and burning even though he was long gone. Such a charmer...such a wonderful man. And such a fool was he. She released her shaky breath, a slow process in comparison to her inhaling. A gust blew towards her, splashing the present time on her coldly, forcing her to look at reality rather than fleeting memories that burned at the edges. At once, gone was the loftiness in her eyes, the softness in her face- all replaced by fiendish restlessness that made her laugh like a maniac. He was here again, the one who smelled of petching grass. “What are you so curious of, little man?” The question echoed in the alleyway, alone and glorified as it whimpered back to the woman. She laughed harshly, her own voice dumb on her ears. Musca looked down at the corpse and lifted an amused brow. “I daresay you’re quite the boring company, never quite holding the mastery of words. Boring both alive and dead. Pathetic. Whatever shall I do with you, oh stupid corpse?” She lifted a claw up, counting down possible actions that she could take with the dead corpse. “I could eat you. But you look like shyke and smell worse- you probably taste as scummy as the gutter you’ve eaten.” One claw was bought down. “I can dissect you. I know I need some materials for my next piece of work. Ah- but your skin is so tough! No, you’d ruin my piece. I’m an artist you know; I can’t have a human like you ruining my mastery.” The lie slipped easily as the second claw made it’s way down. “Or I can play a nasty joke on that bar of ours. You remember right? Pig’s Foot. Just drop your dead self in the doorstep and watch the madness unfold.” The thought appealed to her greatly, but she turned it down with bringing her claw to her side. “No. That’ll only lead me to my own death. I’m not as stupid as you, human.” The image of gold coins whizzed through her mind. She smiled happily, glad that she had solved some sort of secret of the Civil mind. Taking a handful of her cloak, she curtsied to the corpse, dipping her head low in mock respect. “I do beg your dearest pardon, sir, but I’m afraid I have to pilfer your gold off your pockets. I need such things, apparently. And it would be quite wasted on you.” She waited a moment as if the corpse would reply and smiled wanly after a chime. “Wonderful. It seems we have an understanding here.” Instantly, she was on to the corpse’s lower half, rolling him to one side as she patted him down to search for the coins, blatantly ignoring the male membrane as she did so. When the pat down was finished, she still had no idea the amount of money she had on her hands. All she knew was that the man was most probably poor- evidenced by the astounding amount of silver that she poured on her rucksack. Musca bent down again, kissing his cold cheeks. “Thanks, hun. I’ve got to run though, I have another man to catch.” --- The wind was not making it easy for her. In fact, it seemed to be set that the female Zith fail on her adventure. Musca hissed as the wind whipped her hair back, as if she could intimidate it and send cowering in the corner. It did not. She trudged on through the crowds, focusing her senses on the remnants that the man had left as he had pushed through crowds. She might’ve missed him only a couple of chimes ago. “Where are you?” She asked softly, ignoring a hand brushing her lower half from the sea of people, “where are you?” She needed him. More specifically, Musca needed his scent. She wanted to breath the freshness of cut grass, breath in tranquility that was lost on her since her arrival in Sunberth. She needed to feel complete again. “Where are you?” The wind was slowly dying down, taking pity on the desperation she had felt. Instinctively, she blended into the nearest corner that was far away from the prying human eyes. When she was sure that no one had followed her, she casted her eyes upwards, judging the clouds that littered around the sky. It wasn’t enough to cover her shadowed form from below, but it would be enough to fool the dumb in believing it as an illusion. She hastily unstringed her cloak, tucking it in the harness of her bag and stretched her wings. A sigh poured from her lips, momentarily distracted by how wonderful it felt. Then Musca waited- both for the crowd to die out and the wind to slowly disperse. She was going to get this man, regardless of the cost.

[Stigandr]

Sweat beaded the forehead and face of the Kelvic as he shuffled past the people on the streets, ignoring the beggars and other ruffians, his cloak drifting back behind him a couple feet. He was scared. He was not going to deny it, he could not. It was instinct that overrode all training and thought. The sight of the corpse in the alley, the faint smell of blood on the wind, the silhouette that somehow reminded him of the woman from the bar, it was all too much. He had to run. He felt his chances better to run so he ran. At first he moved slowly, his feet carrying him through the streets, around corners and up side streets, then in a quicker pace as he started to orient himself to move towards the cities edge. He had no plan, just knew that his speed would be better in the open. He looked up and saw the shadow, faint to most eyes but clearly visible to his heightened eyesight, flying across the sky. The creature’s wings were outspread, carrying it over the city in a circle as it hunted. He knew it was hunting him somehow. Whether that knowledge was just animal fear sinking into his core or intuition that it was the same creature from the tavern, it did not matter. His feet moved faster, the bottom of his sandals hitting the rocks that formed the road, carrying him faster through the people, several getting knocked to the ground while shouting curses upon the man they were hit by. His breath labored heavily as he slowed down, hiding among a group of people who were standing around somewhat close but not too close out of a lack of trust. His chest expanded and deflated, slowly returning to a normal rhythm as he looked around, his eyes wide as he tried to find the predator, his pupils wide rectangles taking in every bit of light to see who is around him, looking for a lithe female form walking towards him, or flying in from above. Slowly he pressed his back to a wall, limiting how many directions he could be hit from.

[Musca]

Under her, there was nothing but the faint glows of waning lamps and skitterish beings that ignorantly wove around the spiralling streets of Sunberth. An agitated wind collided against her. It beat against the membrane of her wings, sometimes caressing, sometimes wanting to tear it apart. It was exhilarating. Musca laughed to herself, swerving around the clouds she crashed into with manic energy. Though indulgence tempted her to sway from her mission, Musca kept her mind clear of any distractions; the desperation still holding tightly inside her. Ah, how she wanted to see him. But she was flying too high- the scent of grass was beginning to lose it's potency. Annoyed, the Zith dived in a little closer and closer still until she realised that it would be better to land rather than run the risk of being lynched by paranoid humans. She flew up into the wispy clouds again, in a halfhearted attempt to hide herself. This time, she was searching for a more inconspicuous place to land- one that wouldn't totally give her away and didn't mind the strange noise here and there. Although it was only but chimes, the process for the young Zith was excruciating- she was barely picking up the man's scent and the wind was growing relentless once again. Impatient, she decided to land in the nearest rooftop without a lamp, her feet crunching against tumbling tiles in a house that seemed to know nothing but illiterate sleep. He was not close by, she could tell. She started to run towards the edge of the roof, jumping as she launched herself to the open air and unfurled her wings once again as a makeshift parachute. With unsteady legs, the Zith landed on the ground, wobbling slightly from the impact. Taking a moment to regain her stance, Musca began walking to the direction she had last tasted the scent, completely relying on her nose rather than her other perceptions. Musca was starting to believe that she had lost her hold on the man. Her trail had gone cold, replaced by the stagnant odor of booze and filth that every human wore... except that man. "Hey hey," murmured a drunkard as he took hold of her shoulders after clashed into him, “a little gentl’ there, lady, and you can haf me any way ya want.” She gave him a withering glare, about to lash out on him the same way as the man before him... until a wave of grass hit her clear across her face. An ecstatic smile wormed through her displeased features and her hand automatically swatted away the drunkard’s hands from her, stumbling inside the crowd without any regard of the bodies that surrounded her. He was here! He was here! Pure joy exploded inside her, excitement fueling her as her pushes became rougher, her feet leading faster. He was here! With each push, the scent grew stronger and stronger until it became fumes which intoxicated her, pulled her into a trance that abandoned all sense of control she had that only told her to find this man. Find the man that smelt like grass. In her mind, nothing else mattered. She spotted him, trapped by a brick wall against a tide of humans with limited available moves. Her smile took in a manic edge, zeroing in on his form. Musca was sure he was aware of her now. For why would he look around his surroundings so desperately? A statue within the crowd, the Zith laughed and began a tuneless hum. She was utterly euphoric- entranced by the smell, the sight, of this man. With agonising speed, she meandered towards him, keeping their eyes locked, trying to pull him in the same trance as she was caught in. The Zith stopped suddenly, devoid of any expression as she peered into his eyes. Without warning, Musca launched herself to him, locking him into a kiss that ignited her already hightened emotions and senses, unable to resist the desire to immerse herself in memories that should be spurned and forgotten. Within her kiss, she poured all her misdirected longing, her desperation, her fury and passion for a man that she should've never met until both her emotions and her need for oxygen became too great for her to hold alone. Breaking away, the Zith made no move to disentangle herself from him, instead chosing to linger over him with her breath hot against his lips and her body pressed firmly on his. Her touch was incessant; her lips never leaving the surface of his skin- whether it be his neck, jaw or the base of his throat, she ravaged it and nipped at it. In between the sequences of caresses, she would steal delirious kisses that slotted between hesitant breaths. “Take me somewhere else,” she had said, after relinquishing her thirst for contact, "take me anywhere."

[Stigandr]

His heart was racing, pounding on the inside of his chest harder, faster, forcing the blood course through his veins quicker, his body heat increasing, sweat beading on his forehead. His eyes darted around frantically. The fight or flight trigger had gone off and everything since he left the death scene at the alley had been a blue of running feet, shoving and blurring buildings. He could not see the creature chasing him, but he felt he was not safe. He felt hunted. His eyes darted around, every moving shadow an illusion that made him believe the predator was near. Every dark alley was a gaping mouth of shadows and danger, waiting to spit out his death. He was aware of every movement around him, his eyes darting around wildly, wide in fear. She was here. She was near. Something was off with part of crowd around him, he could feel her presence near him. His eyes found her at the last second. She launched herself at him, and he knew his life was over. His body hit the ground as he fell from the sudden attack, the wind expelled from his lungs suddenly. Before he could take a breath, her mouth found it's way to his in a kiss that burned with lust and complete eagerness for more. It was like a drug that he tried to fight, but was unable to resist for long as he felt her lithe body pressed against his warmly, her arms and legs tangled through his and around his body, keeping him trapped tight to her as his struggles ceased. In his mind, he knew something was wrong. He could feel it there, trying to tug him back to what was happening, trying to break the hold Musca had over him. Her lips left his as they dance over his neck and jaw, her teeth nipping him softly, further drawing him in. Move you fool! Break free! This is wrong! Run! Stigandr yelled at himself in his head, trying to fight his bodies reaction to the woman on him. “Take me somewhere else, take me anywhere." Her words echoed in his head, bringing with it images of hills and fields, of running free in the sunlight. The smell of grass and wil...his thoughts were shattered by the scent of this creature instead of the scent of wildflowers. Her hold on him was crumbling, falling apart like the last pieces of glass clinging to a window frame. Her body on his was not a pleasure any more, her soft lips dancing over his skin now something akin to a grindstone covered in bile. From deep inside his chest, a sound emanated that was not human in origin. "Get off of me! the Kelvic yelled, his right arm coming up to her throat to push her back on her windpipe. His flight mode fading away to be replaced by a fighting instinct and his training. Glaring up at her, he brought his head up quickly, aiming to slam his forehead into her face, wanting her to suffer and hurt, wanting to get free. Rolling his body with her to end up on top, he brought his left hand down towards her face, the strength of the blow powered by the anger and need to survive that had replaced her seduction over him. Grabbing her legs, he pried them from around his body and quickly stood, wasting no time in bringing his right foot in to kick her side where her diaphragm lined up, seeking to expel the wind from her lungs. The people around them had scattered when she came in, latching herself onto him, not caring for what happened. Most things people did not care about in Sunberth, letting people do what they wanted, and this was no different. This was two peoples' business and no one cared to get involved. Looking down to the creature again, Stigandr backed away slowly, watching to see what she did, if he needed to fight her harder, maybe killing her, or if she would leave.

[Musca]

He had caught her completely off guard- each blow he inflicted on her landed without fail, sending her body crashing against the soiled ground. The pain was immense; the singe of the kick lasting more than the impact itself, fooling her into thinking that the world had once again left without her, deeming her unworthy and pulled her into the deepest abyss it could find. She was drowning. The pain, the pleasure, the past... She couldn't make any sense of it anymore. It overwhelmed her; threatened to take hold of her and break her. Writhing on the ground, the wasteland surrounded her- took her as a prisoner and molested her skin and bones. Bile and blood mixed as one inside her mouth, her heart contracting painfully by each thump. Rejection. It burned her and consumed her and spat her back out. Rejection. How laughable and ridiculous it was. Shallow and episodic, the Zith struggled for a trace of air to fill her struggling lungs. As she rolled to her side, time seemed to sluggishly move forward, keeping her sternly by it's talons. Movement, however, seemed to betray her. Pain expanded on her chest, the taste of vomit rising in her throat wanting to be let loose. In a poor attempt to stop herself, a claw clamped tightly over her mouth, willing it down. Above her, she could sense the world move around her, avoiding her ambiguous eyes. Oh but the way they moved! Fluidly, gracefully. Always in a constant motion fueled by a mere thought. To avoid. To reject. He was waiting for her, the man. Even with the discomfort that plagued her, she could still feel the linger of his eyes; a question skimming between them. A question that held a perfectly clear answer. What was the man thinking? Standing over her without a blade to her chest? A fool. The man is a fool. But she was in no state to quibble over such trifle details- the burning in her chest was still a constant nightmare. But it would wait- death. The throb could merely be eluded, given the chance. Chimes languidly moved without regard, slowly dissipating the apathetic agony that poisoned her body. With it came tentative energy, dithering and wavering as the body tried to adapt with the pain. Small clarity petered out the haze of confusion and emotions, imposing reality with a cold fist. She stared up into the sky, once again wanting to feel freedom under her wings. Craning her neck further, she saw the feet of strangers blurring past her. Cold and unflinching reality. They were nothing more than transient beings, this crowd. Mere beings moved by simple thought and feelings. Like she was. Twice. She closed her eyes. Twice. A ridiculous amount. A despotic laughter streamed harshly from her, a hysterical resonance that knew no depth. Though sharp pain pinched her by the side, Musca ignored it readily, preferring her cackles. Twice. An absurd number. A sob racked her body, escaping it's dusty confines. The wetness that ran by the side of her eyes were strange acquaintances she had the displeasure to meet in many events. Laughter and tears intermingled as one entity, producing howls which could not be deciphered even by the woman alone. Twice. Want, always in want. Senseless, alluring want. A claw stretched, striking the man right across his face. "Little man, little man," Musca sang after her emotions had died out in the twists of Sunberth, "why are you so strange? Why are you so different? It's confusing... so exciting." She beamed a riveting smile towards him. "What then comes after this? Kill me? Kiss me? Punish me?" She laughed, loftily. Mockingly. "Dear, dear me! We're just strangers, my little man. I don't think we've gotten up to the point where we can exchange intimacies. But blows..." she trailed off, propping an arm to support her body, wincing, to stare at the man. "it's certainly possible. But what then? Are you in want for a fight? Such a carnal desire, you have." A smile, a whisper. "We're not only wild animals released spontaneously in this city, human man. We're here because of purpose- to learn something, to have something." Musca rolled her head back, groaning as she tried to level her sight with the man. "But like the coins you exchange, everything starts with a barter. Still spoiling for a brawl? Let's be civil and exchange 'coins'. This location is unsuited for what you want anyway. Don't worry, I won't escape. Trust me when I say I want to kill you as much as you want to flee from me." The Zith chuckled huskily. "What do you say? Shall we barter and play pretend for a while? Or should we just start and wait for a riot to start?"