[Dust Bed] Licking Your Wounds.

by **Chamaeleon** on March 23rd, 2012, 1:59 am

Chamaeleon couldn't help the instinct that pressed in on her mind, feeling that the woman Zith was a threat despite the reassurances she gave the Ethaefal. She stepped forward faster, walking on Roka's free side in an openly protective position. Her ruined cloak dangled off of her arm and her free hand dangled over the handle of her whip-like weapon.

There were so many people here now. The woman hoped that not one of them would draw the attention of those outside of the Crimson Edge. She had come to understand that the crime syndicate was more open-minded than the rest of Sunberth, as long as those in the fold werent stupid enough go draw in too much unwarranted attention.

She slid her arm around Roka as well, giving him her own support as Wrenmae also did. She didn't pay attention to anyone else other than that Zith woman, who she still eyed with suspicion.

by **Lusa** on March 23rd, 2012, 2:20 am

Lusa gained a short lived pleasure from Wrenmae's hand ruffling her hair; like Roka, she was a veritable sponge for physical affection. But it couldn't distract her from the Zith. If Lusa were a cat, she would have been bowed up and hissing. As it were, she was not a cat, so she settled for glaring while trying to keep it from being obvious that she wanted to hide. She inched closer to Wrenmae, trying to obscure herself from the horrible woman's sight. She took some comfort in his height, for some reason.

She absolutely did not trust Musca's words. Surely she was lying; she would wait for them to look away from her, and then eat Lusa.

by **Wrenmae** on March 27th, 2012, 9:03 pm

Such matched suspicion, all three eyeing the Zith with undisguised apprehension. Each capable in their own right, each ready to cut and run or fight if the female made a move. Shroud was the only one among them that felt no need to look back. She had already proven her worth as a survivalist and attacking four armed opponents was a bold move to make...especially when most of them appeared human. Sunberth had a habit of protecting its own against the 'others' and Shroud wasn't afraid to utilize that sense of human 'togetherness' to his advantage.

A chuckle echoed from his stomach, rising up through his chest and bubbling out of his mouth. "Come now, why glare with such poison? She'd be foolish to attack us, even with an injured member. Put away your fangs and suspicions for now. We can hardly get Roka back to safety with your eyes behind us rather than to the road in front."

Hefting Roka along, Shroud passed through weary streets streaked with flaky stains, taking the wider streets toward the Crimson Edge Camp. He was quiet on the way, focusing more on the shards of movement to the sides of his vision than those around him. Much as he hated to say it, they were in a prime position for trouble.

To those around him, he ebbed a sense of calm into their auras, utilizing the more covert aspect of hypnotism in its most simplistic nature to pierce their auras and suggest calm, patience, ease. It wasn't enough to completely alleviate their paranoias, but it might make it less likely for some inordinate violence to break out.

Shroud gritted his teeth, picking up the pace.

"Let's not stay out here any longer than we have to."

by **Musca** on March 30th, 2012, 1:06 pm

Musca felt like she was walking on clouds- a thick euphoric cloud that conjugated inside her mind, whispering sweet reassurances to her that made her grin cheerfully and hum. She didn't know where this mood stemmed from, but she sure did hope it would stay a little longer.

She hung back from the group, trailing lazily behind them as they bustled through the crowded streets of Sunberth, vaguely aware of the sickly suspicion that they might attract as a group. But such a thing was distant in her mind and if it were to come to that, she'd simply fly away and leave the riot for the humans to enjoy.

Even with the measurable gap between them, Musca could still hear their voices; the lax chuckle, the words of reassurance and the nervous banter... it certainly was rewarding to be feared for simply existing in the same space as these creatures. But the other one- the charming male- he was made of sterner stuff. Unnaturally so. There was not a hint of trepidation or hesitance that stained his tone as he addressed her. Whether the reasons lay on his confidence of his skills or simply because of arrogance, Musca was certainly intrigued.

They moved against the tide of the crowd, heading through streets and alleys that took a hazy form in Musca's mind, for she had never ventured in these parts of the city, considering them as mundane in comparison to the main street that she took quite a liking to. But how wrong she was! Every turn they made was full of beauty- one that snarled and took flight before it can be held, one that was only ever meant to be marvelled at from a distance and let wonderment fall in the eyes of it's audience as they stared, fascinated, by how such creatures thrived in a city made of slums. And Musca would shamelessly admit to this fascination if only to stay a little longer to observe them.

But the such a wish was cut short by the group's hurried steps, as if they were led by something greater than what they could comprehend, pulled into some calling that they had no knowledge of. There was suspense in the air, not just the one that she had forced on them, but a kind that longed for shelter and protection that only this camp could provide from the perils of Sunberth. As her steps followed their march, Musca's curiosity doubled. What exactly was this camp about? More importantly, why did it yield such a response from them?

Her steps quickened, puzzlement growing in her. There was a rush in her blood, pumping actively around her body as a buzz of excitement took hold of her, following them blindly with the same urgency as their stride, not for the sake of the wounded human, but to satiate her own interests.

Tents.

They lived in tents.

"What is the meaning of this?" She glared at the charming human, pouring all acidity and spite in her words and scowl that it almost seemed as if she was about to launch herself at him. "Tents. I cannot believe you led me to think that I was about to see something spectacular. Tents. Petching tents! I-"

Her complaints died in the base of her throat, suddenly catching on to a scent that played back memories that seemed so far back in the past. Whether or not the humans around her argued with her, Musca walked away from them, letting her nose guide her to the source of the smell. She prowled the grounds with extra care, in fear that she might lose hold of it. With a sudden halt, she stopped below a tree that seemed to never end, leaves covering it excessively. She said nothing and moved not a limb. From another point of view, she might've looked crazy right then. For who stops in the base of a tree and just stared at the bark? But she had her reasons- mainly to focus on her senses. Though fatigue started to wear her bones, she pushed herself to still, waiting for any movements from above.

note :

by **Roka** on March 31st, 2012, 2:46 pm

Roka stumbled forward step by step keeping a steady pace until they reached the camp. Trying to keep himself mostly upright and his position less suited to that of a venerable prey ripe for the taking. He held is tongue from any unsavory comments, but Wrenmae's words did not settle him, not at a time like this with a woman like this. She was no comrade of his, at least not yet and even if she was to become one, he doubted he’d find a trusted friend in her. Even Shadowfang, already a member, who seemed satisfactory, was not someone he felt completely comfortable with and she practically oozed deceit and she smelled almost as strongly of blood as his own person did. It was hard to mingle through the strong scent and find the smell of anything else, just a large coagulation of his blood and old stained blood and rotting death. His stomach churned uneasily as his limbs felt drained and uncomfortable. He wanted to sit, for he was beginning to feel light-headed.

As they reached the camp, she seemed displeased with her surroundings. He hoped this would mean her unfulfilled departure. She began to make a small distance between them. Roka shrugged Wrenmae and Chamaeleon from his side obstinately. "I can walk now..." he mumbled as a stubborn child still aching from his wounds. “Thanks." he added looked to the ground for some comfort away from eyes.

He turned to view Musca, and found her gazing up into the trees. An odd behavior, but then again perhaps she was mad. He watched her for a moment’s time and then turned to Chamaeleon questioningly, his head cocked to the side and brows upturned, as if to ask her if she had any idea what the Zith was up to.

by **Shadowfang** on April 2nd, 2012, 5:31 am

A soft, familiar, inviting smell entered his dreams and with it, a face. The face and the smell brought a goofy smile to his sleeping face. The memories that came to him in his sleeping state flooded back as the vision of his adopted older sister floated in front of his eyes. He awoke and opened his eyes; the smell lingered. It took him a second or two to realize that the smell was not a product of his dreams, but a product of something in this area. It couldn't be! She was here!

Arousing himself fully in an instant, he quickly grabbed his jacket and rolled off of his flimsy bed and dropped down. He used his wings to parachute down to earth, bending his knees to absorb the shock. Several sticks from his bed fell down around him, bouncing off the ground and clattering to a halt. He brought himself up to his full height, threw his jacket over his shoulder, and looked down at the source of the smell. Musca... the thought oozed into his mind like warm water, enveloping his mind like a soft blanket. He simply stared at the she-Zith, unmoving and unspeaking. Though his face remained deadpan, he was being filled with a whirlwind of different emotions. Happiness, joy, pain, anger, calm, belonging, annoyance. He felt his jaw go slack. Musca looked... different... looked good. Odd, in his memories, she had always seemed rather plain. Had he not been covered in fur, she'd be able to see him blush.

He looked over to the source of a different smell, the smell of blood. He saw several familiar faces in the bright sunlight, Wrenmae, Lusa, Roka. The last one, he did not know, though there was something familiar about her. He glanced back towards Musca and left without a word. She'd be mad, of course, but Shadowfang had no idea what he should say to her anyway. He figured he would not have to speak after all. He knew almost for a fact that she would go into one of her angry rants to reprimand him, not giving him any chance to interrupt. He simply walked towards the other group, only half paying attention to Musca. He walked up right in front of Roka and pointed at the blood all over his shoulder, expecting an answer from the wounded Kelvic.

by **Chamaeleon** on April 5th, 2012, 5:54 am

Chamaeleon disliked this feeling of quiet distrust. The silence itself was bloated with the heavy crawling sensation of fear. Her blue eyes pointed forward, the peaking of the worn tents of her comrades holding her gaze so it did not turn on the Zith and wither her alive.

"Yes. We live in tents. What? Did you expect us to live under a rock, in a tree, or a hole in the ground?" Her voice was sharper than she had intended, accompanying an exasperated sound. She rolled her eyes at Roka, and caught the look he gave Musca, who seemed to he enamoured with the scent of a tree. She returned the look Roka gave her, a smile tweaking the corner of her lips in amusement.

The sight of the camp alleviated a large amount of her anxiety, and she relaxed both inside and out as the familiar sight of home faced her.

The obstinate actions Roka made caused Chamaeleon to smile more fully, and she reached up and slid her fingers along his hair in what she hoped was comforting rather than condescending, and stepped aside and looked back at their motley group of people. The woman Zith caused her blue eyes to harden subtly, but otherwise she smiled. She was among friends, or family as their leader would remark. Her eyes focused on Roka, on the look for open signs of discomfort.

It was a surprise when the second Zith emerged from the trees, and some part of her mind remarked 'of course' as she chuckled wryly.

by **Wrenmae** on April 12th, 2012, 3:24 pm

Shroud batted the Zith's hand away from Roka, looking between the two, annoyed. "Boy got in a tussle without a comrade to watch his back, nothing more to it." He pushed forward with the others, the tents larger and larger as they plodded toward the Crimson Edge camp. He was no expert on Zith communication, could not say if this was the customary way they socialized or if this was an oddity born of former understanding. Either way, it wasn't his concern. The past often remained in the past for a reason, bubbling forward only as a warning or illumination on the character of the person it was associated with. None of them were who they used to be, and that was enough for him to pay little attention to who someone had once been...who they had once known...

Shadowfang had his own disparities of past to work out, none of them the sort of details Shroud needed to coach him on. Instead, Roka needed attending. Kalia, the girl with the sibilant tongue and the long name, she would do to treat the boy. He hoped she was in camp, but really had no concept of her comings and goings. Personally, he suspected her of being one of the rare Dhani, the hisses in her tongue, the sibilant syllables of her name, it was enough to arouse suspicion in the paranoid storyteller. He had yet to confront her on the matter, but it seemed pale in comparison to more pressing concerns. Let her coil herself around the neck of those quick to trust, he would withhold his judgement till she was better known to him.

"No one begins that doesn't do it small," he called back to Musca, not concerned whether she listened or not, "Would you be more content in a grounded base? Hundreds of grunts and a hierarchy to climb? Would you be happy being so small? Thank your fates that we have so few of your kind to supplement our ranks, you'll stand out, be of use...I won't hear admonitions from a creature who probably calls a tree home."

He deposited Roka, the other two girls around him like a protective shield. Nodding to Lusa, he jerked his head toward a tent farther into the camp. "See if you can't get Kalia out here with her medicine and bandages. Tell her it's Roka and we need help."

by **Musca** on April 13th, 2012, 7:50 am

A rustle broke her concentration, and all too quickly, her view was obstructed by a shower of leaves and a blur of black and brown. Despite herself, Musca smiled, a sense of joy building in her ready to explode along with an onslaught of words and fists that longed to be delivered. But she stopped herself in amazement, taking in his grown form with an analytical eye, comparing his past self with his present. It was hard to believe the little pup that snivelled pathetically in the grass was the male that stood before her. The boy had grown up quick in the two years of her absence. A pride swelled in Musca, relating his growth to all those lessons she had hammered into him as a pup, blatantly ignoring the underlying biological forces that lay in his growth.

Musca smiled thinly, suddenly aware of her uncertainty in approaching the boy she had claimed forcibly as her sibling all those years ago when loneliness sapped her energy dry. Quick, her mind urged, say something before dumbness overtakes you! But she couldn't; her throat felt too dry, too barren. He was too much of a stranger, this newly grown pup. She breathed in weakly, ready to call his name- until that is, he swerved to her side and promptly walked towards the wounded male.

Son of a-

Her brain conjured up every possible filthy insult that she knew as each blood vessel in her body bursted in indignity and insult and anger and.. petch, there was not enough metaphors and nouns to describe her fury. Simply not enough. So instead, to calm herself down, she contented herself with the image of skinning the pup's fur off and burning it in the nearest furnace. Musca closed her eyes, trying regaining her calm as well as her momentum. The pup was a fool if he believed he would get away with it unscathed.

Within chimes, she was on his track, almost dancing towards him with an impish smile. She ignored everyone around her- too fuelled by her gruesome imagination. Arms encircled his torso, her cheek resting on the curve of his back. "What's this? Ignoring your beloved older sister for a bleeding male? I thought I taught you better than that, Shang." Her grip tightened, willing all her strength to deprive him of his oxygen. "Do you know how much I missed you? Two years, my little pup, two years. Do you think my anger towards you have since dissipated? Foolish little bookworm. Oh, I've missed you so." She dropped her voice and began speaking in their native language, edging it with a menacing tone. "You must know, pup- you aren't the only one who's grown. I'm very displeased by your actions. How should I punish you? Hm? Should I castrate you? Teach you the full meaning of insufficiency? I can feed it to my cat back at my cave, but I don't think he'd like that." Her claws dug into his clothes, tearing it apart as her sharp nails pressed into his skin. "How sad you make me. Are you proud of yourself, ignoring a creature such as I? I should break your bones the same way I did with those pups all those years ago. Do you remember them? I'm sure you do. Don't doubt my ability to make you squeal like a pig being butchered, pup." Finally, she released her hold on him, twirling around to face him and smiled brightly and sweetly, once again switching to the common language. "Oh, but I'll let you off this time, little Shang. I'm simply too moved by our meeting." She craned her neck upwards and tiptoed, her claws softly caressing his jaw as she brushed her lips against it affectionately whilst whispering, "don't you dare do that again."

With a final smile, she broke away and beamed at the group in front of her. A pest. They regarded them as a pest. How utterly ridiculous. For a moment, she stared at Wrenmae, a soft twinkle in her eyes as she sauntered over to him and took him by his arm. She pressed her body close, reclining her head below his shoulder. "How interesting... but I have to make some corrections about your impressions on us Ziths. As you can see, that little one is quite confused in his actions. How about a barter?" Musca smiled and fluttered her eyelashes. "Tell me more about this and I can tell you all about our sleeping patterns."

by **Lusa** on April 14th, 2012, 6:36 am

Lusa nodded her assent to Wrenmae's order, pausing only a moment to stare at the newest arrival, the male Zith that she'd met in the forest. He seemed to be acquainted with Musca, something she was not surprised to see. Nasty things that they were, they had probably met before.

If there was one thing Lusa could do well, it was follow a direct order. Shaking her head, she was glad to get away to search for this 'Kalila.' She had never met the woman but hoped that she would be able to help Roka. She wove her way through the maze of tents, heading for the edge of the Sunset Quarters, to the house that Wrenmae had indicated, passing Zandelia's tent as she went. It was something of her home away from home now.

She reached Kalila's home at a jog, catching the scent of pungent medicines from within, which overpowered the unpleasant smell of the slums, tickled her nose and made her want to sneeze. She burst into the woman's living space unceremoniously, babbling about Roka and injuries and Zith and medicine.