Shikoba slipped out from the shadow of a building, and shot discrete glances towards either side of her, before her eyes flickered to the people who passed by on the street before her. Strange things had been occurring throughout the city- the arrival of water Dhani, whispers of missing people, gang... incidents, and murder seemed relatively common place her. What probably surprised her most of all, was that the Dhani did not seem to dominate, at least to her eyes, as they would have had she been back home in the sands. Then again, she did not particularly go out of her way to socialize with their people in the first place. Well, she didn't exactly stray towards anyone.
Recent events though, had sparked her curiosity and had directed her attention towards an unsettling undercurrent that slithered along her spine- things were never right when businesses closed city wide, as they had done so since the day before. She had been lucky to have stocked up on food the day prior to that, but it still did not sit well with her. From what she could tell, it did not seem as if the shops would be opening any time soon, and if so, food would soon run out. The Chaktawe had already heard a few grumblings about the closure by merely treading carefully through the streets. She would overhear women clucking over what they would do for meals, while hissing about some gossip they had gathered, speculating as to the cause. Men frowned and muttered amongst themselves, some sending suspicious looks over their shoulders- at least more so than they usually would. "It's those Dhani again, I t'll ya! It's retaliati'n for that one they foun' dead in th' alley th' other day," one had said, a couple men of the same look standing around him.
... but how? How could the Dhani cause such a shut down? What means did they have to pull off such a feat? No. It seemed that something else was pulling the strings... but what?
The coppery skinned woman took one last glance around before breaking off from her musings and place near the alley, to join the people who had been passing by- her head ducked, shoulders up, and sensitive fingers tucked away into her pockets. She silently cursed at herself for having forgotten her gloves back in her room. Cities had long annoyed her with all of the bustling movement and numerous people that trickled through or in some cases, rushed through. When her hands where uncovered, her fingertips in particular, she could quite literally sense the slightest variation of movement within approximately thirty feet of herself. The equivalent of Hai within the crowded limitations of a city. In the dreadful event that she was somehow required to use this racial characteristic, she would become overwhelmed for a few ticks before she could control her reaction. At least she had found that by only revealing on finger at any given time, she could somewhat reduce the effect.
In addition to this cause for dislike in cities, she had found in her experience, that places outside of her homeland of sand dunes did not do well in accepting outsiders. A stranger was given sharp, but more often than not, discrete looks of suspicion, and were more than likely treated warily accordingly. As it were, she had grown a habit to avoid open eye contact, as if it would make her invisible in turn. For the most part, it seemed to work. At the moment that, while she kept her eyes lowered, she spotted a flicker of movement not three paces from her. Then again, what she thought of as paces where more like strides to the average person, though it mattered little as the thing sped up some. The sight of the little Thing recalled memories of a certain chase that had taken place in another time, another city, where she had chased a certain creature down stone streets, through crowds. It had been thrilling, despite the fact that in the end, she had never caught the thing she had been chasing. Fresh curiosity piqued, she quickened her steps- her booted footfalls light, quick, and slightly more muted than moments before.
As she neared the little Thing, she noticed that it was not a thing, but a who; a tiny who, with a smattering of red spots all over. 'What in the name of Eywaat is this?' she wondered in her native tongue, taking no notice of the men who had also seemed to have taken interest of the small person-thing.
by Tink Scalpellion on November 6th, 2014, 5:21 am 
