Owl-butterfly's crash into Chair - 1x1 (closed) - Printable Version

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Owl-butterfly's crash into Chair - 1x1 (closed) - Hobo_Bob - 08-30-2015

Somethings just happened. 

Justified or not, that was the way of the different Galaxies. Some more than others. That didn't mean that it had to be okay. That one should lay back and let life screw you three ways from Sunday with a spork full of lemon juice. Of course not. But sometimes, there was no visible reason why things happened. People died and people lived. The evil won over the good, and then tripped over a rock and broke their jaw. Karma was one thing, revenge was another.

And that's exactly how the 'Valar' shifter came to be in this mess...

The turquoise sun rose and was followed by the orange and red, shadowing what was promising to be a nice, cool day into a murky, humid thing of nightmares. Creeping like a snake along the tops of the semi-hibernating trees - and those that refused to turn color - it inched closer and closer to the hillside settlement. Homes built of fallen trees, logs tied to make walls or mud and grass plastered to stick woven frames made up the main five buildings. or huts. Three were homes and one a market. Namely, a large building of wood and stone with one room for trading. There was currency involved, but it was perhaps as rare as a pink moon. The last building was of the same make. Sturdy and even held a few carvings. That was the home of the settlement laird. 

The 'town mayor'. Though, once you were taken out of the city walls, there was no law but for what you brought upon yourself and those you lived with. If you lived with anyone. Most were removed from within the walls of Aman city with not but a bag of bread and the clothes on their back. Some were even removed as punishment for crimes. Anarchy bliss for those who wished for freedom of law, and a life of fear for others. Outside the walls of the city, no one was above another.


That is, no one was below any other than the 'Valar'. A shifter of no life but one form. Yet not even a form of the planet she was born to. Alitetaal Resadlioh Ilasang - or Ashrun - was not like the other 'Amanali' shifters. They could run as a kirnbot, fly as a nighbyd and slither like a snake. 

She, however, preferred the form of a chair or a piece of string. Hence her cursed name of 'Valar'. The life-less or un-dead. True, there was one form she could take. An earth red-panda. One she forced herself to learn as a child when a book was shown to her of the creature. Not scary or at all dreaded, the form was to hope for others to accept the existence of one such as her. Yet it only made them dislike her more. An outcast among the out-casted. 

Still, even after the last 26 years without living within the walls of Aman, her own home was something most wished they had. Luxuries, due to her connections inside the city. 

But not even the soft comfort of her bed or the cold stones could help her now. Not after what had been done but the night before.

A prank on the market place, pulling the lock from the doors to allow the critters inside. Not knowing one had left their goods behind to save on the travel time. Ruined breads and fruits, mangled adornments and many other items that caused the chaos to the lives of many. Neatly innocent, she had taken part in the nectars again. And with the children, opened the market doors the night before. 

Luckily, she was not within the confines of her home when she was taken. None knew where it was due to how the people were not to be trusted and her home well hidden in plain view. Almost.

"You opened the market and allowed our half brothers to ravage our goods, disturbing the life of our home. Yet again, Valar." Alitetaal grimaced at the name and tried not to flinch at his accurate accusation from their laird Omnri. He stared down at her. A towering man in comparison to the little sprite. His word was law so long as she worked the tree tops with the others and ate the shared meal from their labors. 

"....Not like I was trying t-..." a hand clapped over her mouth, forcing her from the grip of the guard that snagged her from the woods to bring her to the meeting. She fell back into the crowd, all who could grasped and pulled at her. Intending to do more harm before the guard took hold and pulled her back to meet her justice on the stand. The shouting and anger died down once more.

"Do not speak again, or you are to no longer have shared meals with us for a 80 moons. Now, confess and you will be punished mercifully." large hands signaled to his woman - a crass old cow that ate more than her share of the meals. The two shared a glance and Alitetaal ground her teeth, seething at the edges that they were to harm her. Again. The welts and cuts from their last judgement only just healed. The bruise to her face would remain a lot longer.

The old cow - a name she never cared to learn - brought forward a metal bar wrapped in cloth, nearly hesitant to hand it to her laird but did so anyways. 

Alitetaal did nothing but cross her arms over her chest and turn her back to him. Chin high. Until the first blow fell to the top of her head, breaking off the twig stuck in her hair and knocking her to the ground once more. Still able to move, she saw the crowd move to rush at her. Intending on doing more than just a ritualistic beating. That was when something wet splashed on them. Giving the room a bit of a shock and Ashrun to use her own given name. Powder fulled the space she inhabited then, an instant 'poof' before a black cloud of pepper rose from where she once lay and made others choke or cough. 

She felt the space about her turn and circle as she drifted up out of the room via a high window, knowing any attempt to shift and give chase was being thwarted by her attack on them. Leaving behind a room of coughing, sneezing Amanali. 

But the day was just starting. 

The wind caught Ashrun as she drifted away, turning her upside down and filtering through the trees as she drifted along. In a way, she wanted to hum at her freedom. But things were not safe just yet. After what happened, she had to move. There was no staying within the settlement she was with any longer. Perhaps leave and find another or be on her own for a while. No meal sharing. Just what she was able to find and plant or kill. Yeah. She ate her 'half brothers'. Not feeling part of the world did that to you. And some were delicious. Not all of them, but some.

The thought of food made her stomach growl. Or, what she felt shift through her body was like a growl. A painful circling that churned her insides and forced her to shift back with her usual pop. Which when taking her birth form was more like the sound of rice moving along inside a cylinder. But the change was too soon. Her body was stuck between half pepper cloud, half solid form. Legs were missing where her torso and up was intact. perhaps a few particles of herself was left behind somewhere? Making her form incomplete? Or perhaps it was her curse. Just one more thing that would remain long after she had changed back. If the petals of wood chips along the side of her brow and wing of metal on her back was not indication of sad curse, the arm that looked to be wires and gears was by far the most obvious.

But it wasn't the change in Alitetaal form that made her freeze in place and duck to the floor, her hands covering her head from flying bedris. It was the grounded air craft that had crashed much too close to her hidden home that was her main focus. And it looked to be from the city, which could only mean another purging. 

---

Owl-butterfly's crash into Chair - 1x1 (closed) - Ghostly - 08-30-2015

<sub><img style="avatar" src="http://i.imgur.com/Kg8kHEX.png" style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;]

<font color="afa1a1]-- Three Minutes Before Impact --[/font]

<font color="c5289e]Impact Imminent -- Impact Imminent[/font]

The singular warning blared throughout the cockpit as a blonde haired, golden eyed man in a less than calm manner pulled at the directional controls as hard as he could.

<font color="d4a017]Of course I'm going to die like this.[/font]

His craft would careen into some desolate jungle world where likely his grave would become overgrown before having a chance to be discovered. It suited him though, at least it was poetic in that sense; even if it was not quite how he wanted his life to come to a close. Breaking through the cloud layer the ground truly was approaching rapidly. Just in the far reaches of his sight was there an oddity, a break in what had been but a sea of vegetation to reveal a sizable cityscape, by no means a sprawling empire, but it was better than nothing which is what he had figured this place to contain.

Looks like this wasn't how it would end. Cracking a grin, Azreal simply needed to survive colliding with the endless canopy of trees, then he could deal with whatever sort of populace this rock possessed; it wouldn't be so easy a task though, and he knew it. There was no getting around the fact that his ship was going down, the engines were barely functional, and his gyro stabilizers were just operational enough to keep the small fighter from spiraling through its plunge. At the very least he'd managed to level out the descent so he wasn't going to to explode on impact from the sheer force, actually that was still rather possible considering all of the thick branches he'd the vessel would be flying through, but it was best to cross his fingers and hope for the best.

Fuck, he'd run out of time to plan exactly how to keep himself from being shaken apart from by what would be anything but a soft landing.

Spinning around in his chair, Azreal tensed up and vanished within his clothing. Then the warnings ceased as heated steel met with a wall of organic in a violent crash creating a terrifying wail. There came no immediate fiery extinction, but passing by the sturdy trees had more than left their mark on the craft ripping sections of the hull completely off as well as half of a wing. As the nose tore into the grass and dirt the one of the engines disconnected, but with it still active it ended up leaving a trail of smoke behind it as it flew off into the sky overhead. Tempered glass meant to resist the buffet of superfine space particles shattered and showered the interior with razor fine shards, but when all was said and done, the mangled mess finally ground to a halt.

The personal transport ship was arguably in one piece, and sure there was likely a fire or two, but it was at least recognizable.

<font color="afa1a1]-- One Hour Before Impact --[/font]

Azreal Dren considered himself intelligent enough to be passed over in consideration for this line of work. Political assassination, sure character assassination, doubly so, his kind were made for subterfuge; to gain information often through illicit methods was just another day in his book. So why was he in charge of delivering a package? He was not some two-bit courier! His jobs were becoming sparse as of late, and when he received this latest mission dossier he was actually offended. Still, one did not turn down orders, not here anyways. The pickup had gone off without a hitch, but the destination lie through a stretch of the void deemed anything but secure. This was to be expected considering the nature of what sensitive, and likely highly illegal materials he was carrying. What resided inside the lockbox wasn't for him to know, nor did he desire even a glimpse at the contents. He valued guarded secrets as much as the next shifter, but some were not worth the price to learn, this certainly one of them.

The eighth jump of thirteen was as routine as the last seven. Coming out of warp, the silver and black clad vessel identified as the Varion-II was alone in its surroundings. Empty space like most of what he'd find for light years in any direction as far as visual perception was concerned. Even the stars in the distance were but barely vibrant blips. The system required several minutes to calculate the next hyperspace slip, but it was all automated and needed no input from Azreal to do its job. Sitting comfortably in the captain's seat, he was reading through interstellar news feeds as he often did to pass the hours this journey was taking. There were stories of note, especially where the organization he was a part of had a hand in without making the headlines directly. They were eating up entire quadrants of various galaxies piece by piece without most even noticing, wouldn't be long now till the rug was pulled out from everyone. What would happen then was anyone's guess though, certainly they were not the only powerhouse at this stage.

Putting a crack in the lull that had formed, sensors picked up another ship within nearby vicinity, which immediately gave cause for Azreal to sit upright and take personal command. No one should be out this far, unless they were on business such as his, or because of him. Neither were a pleasant prospect.

He wasn't ready to make a jump yet, another minute or so, or else his exit from the warp would be far off route. Azreal was in an unassuming transport craft, and it played the part perfectly without having a single weapon that would do much against what was clearly a starfighter as it came up on the screen. There came no message, just a single volley of energy beams, not accurate, but probably in an attempt to frighten Azreal, to have him try and surrender, or flee aimlessly. Even after the first attack, he received no contact, nor expected to. They were locking on now, the next strike would not miss their mark. If he ran, they'd hit him from behind and tear straight through the craft, if he tried yield and appease to whatever demands they likely did not have, the result would be the same. Instead he took the only option available, slamming the warpdrive into activation, the ship lurched awkwardly forward as a brilliant blue hole was ripped in the fabric of the cosmos. Azreal was not entirely certain on where he'd end up, but by far it held better prospects than the missile that had been shot off at him.

"<font color="d4a017]Come on, come on.[/font]" He cried out watching the radar at the impeding projectile seeking to end him. Entering the slipstream, he couldn't help but let out a sigh while the portal closed behind, sweat having collected on his brow from the tension. Only the beeping from his console had not silenced. Golden orbs looking frightfully down at the truth of the matter, he gripped the fine leather of his chair tightly.

It had followed him through, and though it couldn't reach him in this physics defying plane, would certainly hit the second he came out from warp. A calculative creature, Azreal ran by the possible scenarios in his head as to what outcomes could possibly unfold. He could outright be destroyed by the missile, which was all in all, likely what would occur. Even if he were not annihilated. His vessel would be crippled, likely in a null sector, or at best a class 5 zone, which contained so few inhabitable worlds that they were never worth the trip through. Digits weaved themselves between well groomed locks as he eyed the seconds before his ship by association himself would face its fate. As he determined when the Varion breached the spacial tunnel, time caught up and an explosion rocked the body of spaceship. Alerts sounded off at the damage done, but this was far better than being torn apart, all the more, there was a sustainable system before him.

Perhaps a bit too close as the gravity was dragging the battered wreck downward through the atmosphere.

<font color="afa1a1]-- Present --[/font]

<img style="" src="http://i.imgur.com/6PaHdcm.jpg" style="max-width:100%;]

Sparks crackled all around as things settled, panels had fallen from the walls and overhead to expose loose and now frayed wiring. Within Azreal's jacket popped the head of a small stone faced alien a colorful array of browns in hue. A more recent addition to his catalog. He preferred the faces of humans from back home, but spending more and more of his days off in the stars required a few new faces, and this one could take a beating like no other. Shifting back into his attire with ease that could only be defined as magical, he wasted not a moment in gathering his bearings. Best to remove himself from the craft, it still had the potential to become an unstable detonation. Out of the destroyed window, he leaped without a worry for the height of which he had to fall. There were more forms for him to take for all manners of danger if need be, as he'd come to respect over the years. Mid air he'd take the form of a wide winged owl and glide to the forest floor below, seamlessly reverting back to his base appearance with a new set of clothes. Glancing back at the crash he'd left behind, couldn't help but put a damper on the situation. Even in survival things were going to be that much more difficult without a means to leave this planet. "<font color="d4a017]I wonder how far off I landed from that city?[/font]" His musings were spoken as though alone, unique oculars scanning the full circle around him as he though it would help make sense of the dense treeline. A trio of suns above blazed a miserable heat even through the thicket of leaves, and he pulled at his tie to loosen it in response. If it was always this bad, then he was beyond inappropriately dressed. All Azreal could do was move onward, and perhaps set up a camp of sorts. If his ship didn't happen to blow up, he could come back to scavenge for parts.

Placing the Varion behind him, Azreal trekked forward truly without much aim, but the second he put the wreckage out of his vision he took a moment to lean against one of the many trees. Today had been a drain on him, and there was no foreseeable ease coming soon. Dropping his head, strands of gold fell into his face following a long exhale. "<font color="d4a017]What a mess.[/font]"</sub>

---

Owl-butterfly's crash into Chair - 1x1 (closed) - Hobo_Bob - 08-30-2015

<font size="2]The churning of her stomach was not all just her stomach. It was in fact the broken ship that went right through her that had done it. A wing slicing between where her stomach would have been, which caused the strange pull. Half taking her with it closer to it's imminent descent and half the wind still pushing her along. As a puff of black pepper, she had no control over where she went. There were thoughts and feelings, the heat of the sun making her uncomfortable, yet no real control of movement. However, luck would have it that the craft carried her with it closer to ground, and the wind lifted so when she made it to ground to shift by force - no longer able to hold it in - she was within a small clearing in the middle of the woods. And a healthy half a mile from the crash. 

The boom of metal against trees would attract others. And no doubt they would find her and her home. As well as the crash sticking out from the treeline and a body. Hopefully just a body. A living body meant having to move faster and even quieter. That is, as soon as her legs were able to take form she would start to move. Having a swirling cloud of pepper dust as legs was not the easiest mode to travel in.

<font color="#b8f1ad]- Ten Minute Later -  [/font]

Long after the debris settled and one leg returned to normal, Alitetaal remained on the ground. Using her metal wing as shade for her face as the shift back took longer than the left leg. The heat too much to bear, but she had to remain where she lay. Just in case any particles were finding their way back to her. Luckily, there seemed to be no one following her from the settlement and no one coming down from the wreckage. At least, none that she could hear. The forest was hardly ever still quiet. The croaking and screeching of animals was always heard. But they were of little concern in this part of the world. No animal larger than her existed here. Not like in the dessert or the oceans. 

Speaking of which, what was that flying thing just over head? The large wing span and the body looked familiar, and yet was not something she had ever seen on her planet. Maybe it was from further north? The creature drew close to her clearing then turned away, closer to the wreck. Maybe that was the driver of the craft. They were alive, and that meant a few different things. A) They lived. Damn it. B) They saw her. Damn it again. And C) Weapons. Ears perked up at the prospect of getting a weapon once more, even more so now that she was going to be on her own for a while. If she could sneak onto the ship, take a blade or even a set of throw knives she could make her own settlement. With traps. 

[/font]Ashrun looked down at her previously partially cloudy leg and grinned as she was now complete. But she would not be able to shift again for a while. Not while she was feeling pain from the beating not an hour ago or the hunger from missing morning meal. She knew it would have to be done in complete silence. Like a fruxin. 

Getting to her feet was the easy part. Finding the wreckage just as easy. But getting past the blond being between her and the solution to some of her problems was another issue. He wore a strange set of clothing, covering everything about him but the face and hands. And his hair. It was a color she'd only seen on those within the cities upper classes. Was he a purger? Could someone of that caste be removed from the city? So many curiosities. So little time to find out. He was in the way, and she did not have the time to try and slip around him. Too far south would mean walking back to the settlement. Too far north and she would be at her home. Where she could gather a few of her items before returning, but what if the golden one took the same things she was seeking and left? It was not a gamble she could take. Not today.

He looked to be fit. Possibly stronger than she so she could not fight him head on. Her own strength wasn't laughable, but in comparison to the old cow, she was still just a wisp. But she was fast. Quick on her feet and with the right jab to his crest maybe cripple him before he had a chance to retaliate. But that would mean getting close. 

Alitetaal took the mess of her hair down, feeling a wince when the area bound to be bruised now was brushed with her fingers. Mentally cursing the length of her hair, she did her best to smooth it out and bind it back up onto her head in a more organized mess. Polished wood and bits of metal stiks were used to keep her hair in place. But for a few strands down her back. The clothing she wore - material from within the city - was mostly white. Wrapped and tied around her body with string and a cloth belt, keeping the items in place. Ashrun knew she was at least passable for pretty. Not as well desired by others who preferred the more meaty women that could work and protect their homes with their bear-like hands. But she had curves and a softness that had been taken advantage of more than once to get the things she wanted. None would admit they had let her use them as she had. Which was fine, men in her settlement were as weak as her father was. 

Her body and hair in place, Ashrun removed the heavy boots and hung them at her side. An attempt to look as unassuming as possible. The scowl on her face was replaced with something more innocent. A practiced expression she neither liked or used often, but could use on this golden caste man. 

The flutter in her heart from being nervous was not something she could hide or fake. If she didn't succeed, he could kill her. He might do it even before she tries anything more. As was custom with the golden ones in the city. Gripping the bottom hem of her skirt to tuck it into the belt for easier movement - and display her un-scarred knees - she peeked over the berry bush with more obvious movement. Even making a little rustle in the leaves before ducking below them once more to be unseen again. Not as quietly as she could, Ashrun moved past the large berry bush and up to a tree so as to peek past, in obvious sight of the blond who seemed to be having a hard time in the heat. 

Good.

---

Owl-butterfly's crash into Chair - 1x1 (closed) - Ghostly - 08-31-2015

<sub><img style="avatar" src="http://i.imgur.com/Kg8kHEX.png" style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;]
Azreal was far too refined a creature to enjoy the isolated nature of such a far off world, untouched by modern civilized standards. He preferred climate controlled environments, a smooth drink while he sat in a plush recliner, fine music and entertainment provided at a simple swipe of a credit stick. At least in these days anyways; he found himself quite spoiled and recognized it instantly when finding such distaste in what would be a more common experience not more than a few millennia ago. Time was fickle after living for so long, the threads were less defined, less tangible, becoming more of an ocean where countless layers passed through one another. His data services were too far out of range to be of much use. There probably wasn't a satellite powerful enough to direct a signal from his communicator in this entire system, his ship might have been able to get a distress call out, but not in its current state. Truly he was stranded until for an unforeseeable stay on this rock.

The Varion had yet to spontaneously detonate, so perhaps that was a silver lining as he could salvage it for supplies after setting up a base camp of sorts. Naturally he wouldn't return immediately, nor did Azreal plan on venturing too far off from the crash site. He had burned through the airspace of what had appeared to be one of the only recognizable signs of civilization, if they were even of basic intelligence in design, they'd likely send out some sort of search party to investigate. If they seemed approachable enough some sort of discourse could be undertaken about his situation. On the other hand, if they were a more barbaric sort Azreal was quite trained expertly in subterfuge. He was a shapeshifter, one of the most skilled he'd come across in his lengthy existence. That might have been a touch conceited in regards to his abilities, but at least within his own race and others he'd had the chance to meet there were none better. A backwater collection of natives were no match for his cunning wit and unique strengths to take advantage of their weaknesses.

Against his will, he'd learn their customs and culture, blend in among them if he had to. Whatever he had to do to progress his standing. If their technology was even remotely close to comparable, he'd use them to repair his craft. If such a task were impossible he'd wait out a recovery mission if one was even sent out. Beyond that he could simply bide his unnatural lifespan till an exploratory group discovered this hellhole like he had.

If anything, he was a patient beast.

If only he didn't have to deal with this blasted humidity. He could feel his silk slacks and well fitted shirt sticking to his skin, damp with sweat after not more than a half hour of exposure. His colors were dark, and attire not designed to breathe in this sweltering heat. Raising his head back up to the light filtering through the canopy top the blonde slicked back those locks off of his stern features, he'd make it through this. No matter what, he was endlessly tenacious in surviving.

Speaking of, those supernatural oculars were not below catching movement through the foliage in the distance. Though he couldn't pick out specifics in terms of sound, since the forest around him was practically a cacophony of insects swarming about and animals screeching, a plus for anyone desiring to stealth about unnoticed. This was not the case. It seemed an almost coy means to acquire his attention passively, but seeing as they were not charging him with a blade in hand, he accepted it without too much scrutiny--not yet anyways.

Pushing off from the tree the tall suited male attempted a relaxed roll of his neck, feeling muscles tense up from the flood of adrenaline his body went through earlier. Whether or not they'd even be able to understand one another in speech was an issue he contemplated, though his linguistic repertoire was extensive thanks to numerous locales he had been ferried off to for one job or another. "<font color="d4a017]I think you've made it quite clear of your curiosity in me.[/font]" In addition, frightened, wary, or agitated also could have worked as potential descriptors of his partner's emotional condition. Either way, this might have been his first opportunity in securing relations with the people of this planet.

He'd not sneer at an offering before him, even if it had the possibility for a dismal outcome. A feminine face peeked out from behind a tree in a closer, but more off to the side location compared to where she had been nestled last. Her exact appearance he couldn't gather, but it gave cause to suspect their intentions less as devious ones. Azreal was never one to judge a book by its cover, as it was a shortcut to an early grave in his line of work, but in a vastly foreign place, overgrown in dense jungle and teeming with wildlife he couldn't help but let that guard down even slightly.

"<font color="d4a017]I'm in need of assistance if you are willing to lend me any. I don't have much to trade for, but you're welcome to what I've got.[/font]" Spoke as a man without fear his tone came across sharp and clean, cutting through the background noise without hesitation. He himself did not hold any hostility either in stance or voice, keeping his gaze in her general direction but making no moves to advance on her. This was all fine and dandy if she could just make sense of his words .He could run through other dialects, but the one he chose seemed the most appropriate for this kind of environment and coordinates on the galactic map, at least the glance he had taken before priorities shifted to not having his ship nose dive into the ground. If they had seen the wreck, the he assumed that they would think him from it to back his story, beyond that he couldn't guess at their thoughts on his presence, but hoped to find them out. Hopefully they were the talkative sort, as Azreal could reason with words far better than actions.</sub>

---

Owl-butterfly's crash into Chair - 1x1 (closed) - Hobo_Bob - 09-01-2015


<font size="2]For just a moment, there was the second guessing. 

What if she couldn't infact get close to the golden? What if he was ready for her, being a golden they had abilities she didn't even know were possible. And changed shapes in ways like no other. From what she had heard, the last golden out of the city nearly destroyed every settlement in the woods. Alone. But that was just a story for children, like so many other tales she was told as a child. Perhaps not as many as other children, but that one had stayed with her.

Alitetaal peeked a little longer over the side of the tree. A hint of real curiosity in her periwinkle eyes as she watched him move away from the tree and try to release the tension from his body. If he had been in the crash, perhaps it was more than tension that he felt. After all, the crash looked to have been painful. From possible broken bones or bruising to internal bleeding. Not she she was a doctor, but having her fair share of tumbles and seeing what happened when one came face to face with a new purger was enough to bring fear into her curious gaze. Once more hiding behind the tree and taking a third guess about what she was doing. Or trying. She was not successful at all just yet.

He spoke then, his voice smooth and did not have the pitchy tones that her people used. An over expression of their vowels in a way that words bounced around. A tone not unlike her own. Though his was perhaps natural and common, her own was forced. Less irritating on her own ears. His words were a soft fluffy cloud compared to her own tone. "<font color="#c69bf6]I am not.....too curious....[/font]" she muttered in her quiet lul - hoping he would not hear her voice - regardless how she nearly whispered against the wood of the tree as she continued to peek at him beyond the trunk. If he moved towards her, she had something between them. And should she chose to flee her own legs and attire were better suited for the terrain than his own. Possibly. She didn't really know what it was he wore.

Alitetaal cleared her throat and swallowed, one hand grasping the side of her skirt by her leg as she leaned out more from behind it. Weapons, home and then run - she told her self. Just get the things needed and flee from him. 

A bit more courage, a few moments of waiting before she came out from behind the tree. A mass of purple and magenta hair on her head, a small trail along her spine that seemed to swirl with color. A top that covered her front, tying behind her neck and back to still expose her skin. A wrap of a skirt over a pair of trews with a jeweled adornment around her ankle. All white, and a little worn, but not entirely dirty considering where she lived. Blue-lavender eyes peered at him beyond a pixie face framed along her temple with petals of colorful wood. A mechanical wing and arm almost hidden nervously behind her while she inched out for him to see her as she was able to see him.

Playing her part or letting a little more of her fear peeking through. It wasn't clear anymore now that she was visible to him if it was her game or her emotions.

"<font color="#c69bf6]A golden.....asking for help from a Valar?[/font]" Something didn't quite fit now. Why would he need her for that he wouldn't just normally take? Obviously she had nothing but her boots and her garlashq at her back. He had a whole ship. The trade would be food and a space to rest safe from the night in exchange for possibly being taken to the city. Same as her sister. That was a horrible idea. More rules and people.

Ashrun moved a little closer then, slowly bringing herself to stand with in his immediate view all the while trying to keep her wing and arm from his view. Not that she was shamed of them, but....she was weary of new people. 

"<font color="#c69bf6]Food and a cool place to rest for the night....I need weapons....you are from Aman, a new purge, right.....? [/font]" The way he spoke and the clothes. The scent of him was not natural and stung her nose. Making it difficult to breath being closer to him. In response, she backed away from him and slipped to stand beside a small tree, letting the clean air wash away his acid scent - that burning feeling - from her nose. 




[/font]

---

Owl-butterfly's crash into Chair - 1x1 (closed) - Ghostly - 09-02-2015

<sub><img style="avatar" src="http://i.imgur.com/Kg8kHEX.png" style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;]
The individual did not run at his words, nor did they brazenly move out to try and strike at the shapeshifter. Good, they showed enough intelligence to be able to rationalize an unfolding situation. In a place such as this, Azreal did not have high hopes for the populace as a whole, but then again he often disregarded most when they had little to offer him.

A feminine voice to match what he had caught but a glimpse of earlier, and a mumbled collection of sounds that he didn't quite catch, but assumed to be a continuation of her feigned interest in him. Inch by inch, she stepped out from the cover of the massive stalk of wood she'd been using to block her from her view. This was a truly untouched acreage of land, the trees alone having to have been centuries old at the least. Or perhaps they were merely unique to this biome for their size. Either way, those shining hues of his lowered slightly at inspection of her form, as he would to a first encounter with anyone.

Such interesting features she possessed, though to call her eyes strange would be laughable since his own were anything but normal. The man took particular note of her face, and how it was accented with petals and flowers of varying colors. The clothing she wore was by far more utilitarian to his own and suited the harsh heat of the environment to the letter. He was baking in his suit and regretted this being his "casual" attire.

A raise of his eyebrow was given to the title bestowed upon him. Golden? Did she denote him as such because of his striking appearance? If so then Areal had to wonder how childish a creature he was about to negotiate with. Closer still she crept, no doubt still uncertain of whether or not he might be a threat to her. These mimicked his own thoughts, though he kept a tight grip over his outward emotional expressions. "<font color="d4a017]You might be jumping to conclusions, my dear. You have laid out several phrases of which I am unaccustomed to hearing, probably because I have been on this planet for not more than even a lunar cycle; however long that might actually be.[/font]" Pausing he couldn't help but laugh at the silliness of all of this. It was for but a moment, but the stress of the past few hours washed over him like a torrent. That a man like himself was hopelessly lost without any immediate reprieve in sight. To her he was a beast to be feared for one reason or another, and if she had the proper knowledge available he would understand why.

Recovering from his outburst he have the woman a dismissive wave of his hand. "<font color="d4a017]In simpler terms, I am not what you think I am.[/font]" Then he'd begin to slip out of his jacket while continuing on the dialogue. "<font color="d4a017]Food and shelter I won't be able to provide for I cannot even give myself those luxuries.[/font]" Again her assumptions of his position in this scenario was aggrandized, compared to how he saw things. Still, he felt confident in his survival of this wilderness given a day or two to adapt. Azreal, while not a skilled combatant in the general sense was far from helpless with the forms he could take.

A weapon though, this is what he did have to pass along if it would help him gain an understanding of the world around him. "<font color="d4a017]However, if you are in need of a tool to defend yourself, perhaps that I can assist you with.[/font]" With his coat removed and tossed to the side, as there was no way he'd be putting it on again any time soon in this humidity, he revealed a pair of thin satchels at the sides his chest. At his waist gleamed the hilt of a dagger, and opposite that several small knives tucked away in his belt.

"<font color="d4a017]Information, that is all I request in return, nothing more nothing less. A conversation for whatever length of time it requires for me to get a grasp on where I am and what I'm dealing with.[/font]" Although she had come out a fair ways to have this discourse, she retreated back around her tree in how he saw as a senseless endeavor. The trio of throwing blades in his belt were quickly taken and thrown with precise care into the bark of where she chose to hide behind.

"<font color="d4a017]Payment for the moments you've already humored me for, I have another gift if you choose to assist me further. For now though, I believe the most civil course of action currently would be introductions. Azreal Dren, stranded traveler.[/font]" Azreal was far from where he thought such customs were of importance, but all the same to him, these were standard proceedings that he ran through the motions. To her he'd grace with a half bow, already feeling better in removing one of his many layers he currently wore.</sub>

---

Owl-butterfly's crash into Chair - 1x1 (closed) - Hobo_Bob - 09-03-2015


[size=small]He seemed to have a moment of strain wash over him once she refereed to him as a golden. His expression solid and maintained through obvious practise, yet the air changed. A little warmer and heavier of his scent for just a second. It could have been the breeze just then, wafting towards her as the sun's passed the highest point of the day. Possibly. Still, the reply was very much not anything she would have expected of him. Well read, at least. Well spoken and definitely a class of being she had never seen before. The terms 'golden' and 'Valar' should have been recognized even if he was from the city. Yet not even a spark of familiarity. The words were as foreign to him as his clothes wereto her. Dark almost shinning things, like water and yet polished stone. Smooth she could say. But that was just by looking, she had no real way of knowing for sure. And if what he had said was true, then there was much more reason to get from him what she could use and flee. He was a liability even more by not being from Aman.

"<font color="#c69bf6]An out-worlder....[/font]" Ashrun whispered, the fist she made to hold her skirt by her leg tightened a bit more noticeably. Yet she did not shrink away more, simply leaned against the tree.

Feigned interest became much more real at that thought. There had been out-worlders before, and some had made camps on their world. But none stayed for long. If they could leave, they did. Leaving behind strange food and metal villages. Most had been picked off and scraps used as housing or trade. The ones on the surface, at least.

Periwinkle eyes followed the way he slipped his short robe off and discarded it to the floor. It wasn't too far from him, but it was of a strange interest to her. The little minx in her wanted the soft looking short robe, even if only for a little while. He continued to speak as her eyes focused on the discarded piece of clothing more than his face. She half listened to him, taking in his words and mulling them in her mind. Even if they were not accurate to what she meant. All the while she watched him and then the clothing. More than slightly distracted.

Alitetaal tilted her head to the side, as if letting his words flow into her petal and colorful ear to process while her free hand lifted to rub a spot on her cheek bone. "<font color="#c69bf6]I have the luxuries of food and shelter, I was not referring to receiving them from you.[/font]" her tone of voice had a bit of a natural edge. Not focusing enough on the way she spoke to not provoke him should he become angry. With the amount of weapons she could see on him, it was no wonder her instincts were on alert. Not just because of 'stranger danger' or he looked to be of Aman's upper class, but because of the amount of metal under he short robe. Why did such an out-worlder need so many blades? Was he a hunter that needed to skin and bleed the beat before bringing in the kill?

The hand playing at her cheekbone flew to her back. Knees crouched as if avoiding something aimed at her head. Her reaction time was slow due to the interest she showed in his coat when he tossed a few of his own blades into the tree she hid behind. Agitation and annoyance filled her once awed and interested eyes, turning from their lively bright azure-lilac into pitch black in but a moment. Yet he did not aim at her. Perhaps his aim was poor. The intention was only made clear once he spoke the blades were a gift. "<font color="#c69bf6]....Just for sharing words, you would give me blades....it is not entirely a fair trade, out-worlder...[/font]" 

None the less, the stood up and took the offering.

Only to toss one back in his direction. Only it wasn't at him the knife was tossed. It was towards his coat. The blade made contact with something that looks to be a stone, but it bled. "<font color="#c69bf6]Kurln's aren't deadly, but if you let them bite or touch you, you could get a disfiguring scar.[/font]" Ashrun stated as matter of factly. She knew he might not know of the creature or that his coat had been tossed on to one. To him, it was just a strange stone perhaps. Out-worlders would not know of the things on this planet or the creatures that would cause him pain if not death. Not alot killed instantly on this world, but life was difficult because of them. 

The adrenaline she felt when he had tossed the blades at the tree she hid behind rushed in her veins, bringing color back to her eyes as she moved closer to where he stood - her eyes watering from the burn of his scent. Kneeling beside his coat, she flicked the large bug away from his clothing with the new blade and took the short robe from the floor. However, the moment her hand touched the material, she fell in love. It was cool and soft. Smooth along her skin and it was tempting to just pull it on. Wear it as he had. "<font color="#c69bf6]This is....very nice. Azreal...[/font]" Ashrun had to clear her throat as she pulled it away from her self - not realizing she was almost cradling the short robe - while she tasted his name. Worked on the pronunciation and the form his lips took when he told her his name. No one could say she was rude, really. And if she was, it was not intentional. At least to him. However, the more time passed and she did not give him her name, the harder it was to speak it. Standing once more, she fit the knife he had given her to the belt around her hips. The others still stuck in the tree to gather in a moment.

Still, a name she did not offer up in exchange. The moment somehow passed.. "<font color="#c69bf6]But if it is just conversation for a trade, then I think someplace cooler is in order. Come. The settlement isn't far.[/font]"
 


[/font]<font size="2] [/font]

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Owl-butterfly's crash into Chair - 1x1 (closed) - Ghostly - 09-03-2015

<sub><img style="avatar" src="http://i.imgur.com/Kg8kHEX.png" style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;]
Azreal was no spring chicken, his path was one traversed longer than most would ever see in their own lifetime. He'd grown accustomed to adapting at the drop of of a hat, even under the most extreme conditions. Still, that did not mean he enjoyed such adventures. He was no vagabond traveler, everything he did had purpose; if there was none visibly present, then by all means he'd seek it out. By some happenstance he had ended up on this world rather than being dusted in one of the darkest reaches of space. Azreal would not let that act of fate go to waste.

An outsider, yes, that title fit him far better, and though it wouldn't receive any acknowledgement, he'd neither give a statement to further express his confusion over her cultural terms to describe him. While it depended on how long ago the last individual had arrived, if they came here by ship as he had then there might have been salvage for him to find. The problem came with if the sites had already been picked clean by the locals. Another issue would be the fact that he had not the slightest clue on how badly damaged his own vessel was, nor if he could even repair it.

While he found her own ideals a tough simplistic to how he felt, Azreal couldn't, and wouldn't fault her. Since they were not at the others throat he'd at least explain himself if only to keep her from departing. It wouldn't be of use to have her wander off, and giving her words to chew on would likely help. Besides that, who knew when he'd even see another out here? "<font color="d4a017]I suppose you've experienced a much different sort of life in this place than I have.[/font]" In that he feared what kind of intellectuals he'd be able to find around here, or maybe that survival around here was difficult to the point where weapons were all but a necessity. "<font color="d4a017]To me, words are my blades. Information can cut down the greatest of beasts if one wield it properly.[/font]" Not that it would help him against an actual monster if he encountered one out in this dense forest, but he had an ace or two up his sleeve for such a scenario if need be. "<font color="d4a017]I can't imagine that it will be quite as effective here, but I think it might surprise you what can be done with a sharp wit and a silver tongue.[/font]" Whether or not she'd pick up on his slang Azreal didn't know, but he took pleasure in his phrasing all the same. As if on queue one of his daggers was thrown back his way, those oculars never missed a beat, and merely followed the weapon's trail to its target beside him instead of jumping back as though it were an assault.

"<font color="d4a017]I see, I'll be sure to remember that, and to be wary of other wildlife I come across.[/font]" Golden hues eyed the sizable critter with peaked curiosity. Now wasn't the time, but he could easily extract a venom from either it's skin, blood, or saliva, and create a nice toxin. What use he could come up for it had yet to reveal itself, as things rarely did out of the gate. However, despite what he had preached earlier, Azreal had a sneaking suspicion that a bit of force would be needed in order for him to survive this world's trials. Finally she broached the distance so far kept at what would be considered by her as adequately safe. With her nearing ever closer he could now see with clarity what she'd tried to hide before. That one arm of hers was partially mechanized, and that alone lit a spark inside him, not that his calm demeanor changed even slightly. To have an augmented appendage meant a level of scientific advancement that he did not expect of this civilization. From what he had seen briefly from the city in passing overhead their technology appeared to be far behind his own, but clearly others had traveled here before, and that led him to assume that the ability to leave the atmosphere was not beyond them.

Saving that thought for another time he continued his inspection as she came over to retrieve his coat. What a interesting looking woman. It was as though she'd taken bits of her surroundings and made them apart of her. Perhaps the inhabitants of this planet were well connected to the natural order here, and there had been some sort of osmosis effect over the centuries. Or this one could just be an oddity. Without the facts any possibility could be made up.

The fascination she showed off in his finely stitched jacket was about as curious to him as the manner in which she spoke. So foreign was her homeland to what he was used to that each minute that transpired was an experience to be savored. "<font color="d4a017]It's all yours then if you fancy it so. I'm quickly coming under the impression that a change in wardrobe will be required since I do not believe I will be leaving in the near future.[/font]" The buttons at the cuff of his dress shirt were hurriedly unbuttoned so that he could fold it back over his forearms. "<font color="d4a017]If it's possible, I'd like to hurry with wherever we are headed. I doubt you were the only one that saw my ship go down, and I'd like to keep my contact to a minimum right now.[/font]"

Azreal's strange acquaintance avoided the question regarding her name well. Surely it brought some irritation in the back of his head, but he respected her stalling all the same. The shapeshifter held no grudge, especially now that the moment had passed, and they were off to find this shelter she'd spoken of. A name is not something to be given out needlessly, but all the same he'd have it sooner or later--at the very least so that he could document her in his writings once he managed a way off of this dismal jungle covered rock.

A cave was about all he could think of in this primitive setting that might provide some sort of comfort in this heat, until those blasted suns set for the day. She had mentioned other outsiders having visited in the past. "<font color="d4a017]You seem pleasant enough company. If anyone else were to find me, do you suppose the situation would have unfolded in a similar fashion? Or are you a gem among the rocks?[/font]" Flattery came natural one that always wore a mask over their true feelings. It tended to help put one at ease when in a tense situation. On the move he'd wipe beads of sweat collecting on his features, his breath not heavy from exhaustion so to speak, but just the humidity sucking the moisture from his lungs. The sooner they could get out of the beating sun the better.</sub>

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Owl-butterfly's crash into Chair - 1x1 (closed) - Hobo_Bob - 09-05-2015

[size=small]For her? Why? Something like this, for a being like her? And not out of family bonds, as she was used to with her brother. Perhaps it was kindness or appreciation for saving his beauty. Regardless, she couldn't help the flutterings in her stomach. The gift of his short robe was accepted without a second thought or hesitation. Her smile was soft and lovely as she held the item of clothing in her hands, cradling it to herself for a moment to rub the sleeve along her cheek. For a moment, her eyes closed slowly, the smile turning into more of a childish grin. Marveling at the texture and smooth material while it ram across her cheek and jaw. "<font color="#c69bf6]Thank you...[/font]" she whispered quietly, already softening a little more to the out-worlder simply by giving her such a luxury. Something of his own person, which was hard for the people she had been around in the past. Even if his scent clung to it. That stinging scent she was beginning to realize was something he put on himself, and was perhaps not his actual scent. The undertone of wet grass and stone seemed to be more natural. Which meant it was his scent. But the sting of animal musk and a fruit seemed twisted in a way. It would soon ware off and she could enjoy it all new. "<font color="#c69bf6]Oh....yes, this way. We should be quickly about it[/font]. " 

For more reason than one. Alitetaal thought to herself once she stood from the ground and wrapped the short robe around her shoulders like a cape, tying the sleeves together so the item hung around her neck. The feel of it along the skin of her back tickled and felt warm. Far too warm since the weather was warm and humid in this part of the forest. Moss grew in the trees in thin puffs of fuzz along the branches while the leaves cultivated it's own kind of fungi. The stringy type that almost looked like dry snot. With the added layer she wasn't accustomed to - and the fact the cloth was getting snagged on her wing - she pulled it off from around her shoulders and rolled it up once more to tie it around her waist. An extra belt to keep her skirt securely wrapped and out of her way for the trek home. "<font color="#c69bf6]It's not far, but as you say others might come and I will not be able to keep you safe.[/font]" Or alive, she thought once more. There were things Azreal might need to know if he was to remain here. How people were and what they could do. The laws of the land and was foods could be eaten. Especially what items not to touch. As he said, for the foreseeable future he was to remain here. Perhaps with her. His ship crashed on her planet, it might not take off without repairs and that was if the ship would be compatible with anything they could find. Or what she had already. Not much could be made in the ways of metal items without already finding them as they should be. And that was not counting what he might need to fashion for any repairs needed.

Alitetaal gathered her boots on her waist and slipped her feet into them, hating the feeling of the hot, heavy leather around her feet - even as she felt moisture begin to bead along her skin - but for the trip they would go on it was better than barefoot. The ties were secure and the bottom of her skirt lifted up to wrap once more around her waist then tucked into the make-shift belt, now a short skirt and her tan knee length trews completely visible for him to see the shape of her legs. As well as the tip of markings along her legs. Blue ink hiding old scars that could no longer be seen since her tan cloth capri's acted as a barrier between his vision. If he cared to inspect. Once her clothing was set in place, she returned to the tree that held the throwing knives he gifted to her. Small things, perfect in weight and small precision tools to keep hidden. Those were tucked into a slit on her boots on the outside along her calf. With in grasp should she need them, but not in her way. Feeling heavier with the amount of weight on her body, she jumped a few times - getting quite a bit of height - and then nodded. Used to the feeling of the added short robe and knives.

" <font color="#c69bf6]Will do. [/font]<font color="#c69bf6]This away. Anon.[/font]" 

Once they were on their way, Alitetaal kept pace with him. Walking at his side. To be behind him wasn't wise, how would he know where to go other then her verbally directing him. Which would only bring more attention to themselves. In front of him could mean his eyes on her at all times. And it was the attention she did not like. Mainly from the past experiences with others outside the city. And more reasons, but those were not liable just yet. Theory's. In the dense woods where trees grew almost atop each other, as wide as buildings and tall as the clouds barely sprinkling the sky in puffs of white, the three sun's moved beyond the highest point of the way and kissed along the tops of the trees at a slight angle. From this time of day, the turquoise sun was hidden far behind the largest red, casting the world in pink. The long night would come soon, and that settled the creatures in the forest. The chirping and croaking stopped, huffing and squeaking dimmed to a hum and the sound of rustling foliage was all that was heard. Some in the far distance, moving and pausing as if to listen before continuing. Not a sound of a Aman, but one of it's many beasts. Guiding him through the forest of greens, reds and yellows, just north from where his ship remained, Alitetaal paused but a few times to listen. Remaining quite as she did so and relying on him to do the same. If she was to get him into her safe house, he would need to take a few silent ques. Hopefully, none would spot his wreck and come across them.

With the pace she was keeping with him, making sure he did not fall behind, it became a concern. Just like the ship they left behind. Ideally, she'd prefer to go to the wreckage and take what could be used. And if he was not within her company, she would. Even now, it would be simple to flee and return to his ship to take as she needed. But the faith Azreal had in her and the gifts he had given earned a bit of her loyalty. Mantally huffing, she ran a hand along the fabric of the short robe along her waist. Stupid loyalty, bought with weapons and a pretty. With a renewed objective, she prayed to the solar goddess that his ship would remain in one piece. If it didn't and scavengers deiced to take it apart - or worse, the damage caused an explosion - then he would never get to leave this planet. A part of her was sad about the idea for reasons she knew but wouldn't even think aloud.

He spoke then, calling her a gem and she made a strange face. A little disgusted and confused. "<font color="#c69bf6]A gem...? Me? I highly don't think it. I am far from anything like a gem.[/font]" Perhaps his idea as to what a gem was differed from her own. She was neither pretty or shinning, her features were strange in comparison and her body disfigured. "<font color="#c69bf6]Gems are perfect....I am a disaster.[/font]" 

He used strange words and phrases. Like the one about using whips and having a silver tongue. That must he a horrible disease. A tongue infected by a silver bug or from consuming a silver fruit? How did one get a tongue of silver? Absent mindedly, she tested her own tongue. Biting the tip within her mouth before sticking the appendage out to squeeze between her fingers. It was squishy and did not feel strange compared to how it felt all her life. Was his tongue silver? Alitetaal looked sideways at him, worried about the amount of sweat on his brow and soaking his clothes and hair. If he was one with such a contagion, she best not share food or cups with him. But he was not comfortable at all. The weather or humidity was not to his liking. She paused a moment and took a pick from her hair. The accessory was more than a pretty for her hair, it was a long vile with a twisting cap. Opening the top, she let a drop of a green goo onto her finger before closing the pick and sticking it back into her hair. "It will help with the heat." she explained before she reached up to dab the green goo to his forhead. 

She hesitated a moment, waiting for him to stop her or flinch. He did neither. Slightly amazed - and wondering how he was so calm considering his apparent situation - Ashrun made a small 'huh' before dabbing what was left on her own forward. Instantly, a cooling sensation ran down her spine. Making her skin prickle with goose bumps and shiver at the feeling of being comfortable once more. 

"<font color="#c69bf6]Ah-...renel plant sap, it's good to cool off but very hard t find. Uhm-...yes, this way[/font]." carefully, she tapped his arm and turned right once they reached a large rock covered in moss. If one looked close, under the moss was carvings on the face of the rock. Markings not many looked for and none on this planet could read the symbols of. Even for Alitetaal. But she knew their meaning, in a way. Familiarized herself with them over the years as to what they meant. Onward they moved and she continued to answer his question. Despite nearly 10 minutes of silence after her out burst about being called a gem.

"<font color="#c69bf6]Not many would try to speak to you if they came across you. People are frightened of strangers and tend to flock together with others of their like. I am Valar. I have none to flock with. I cannot change as the others can into the creatures of our planet. Well, except one and it is not even of Aman. And that is only because of practice. This[/font]," she motioned to her face decorations, arm and metal wing, "<font color="#c69bf6]is from a failed transition. Otherwise, i'd look perhaps more like you. But not with hair of gold.[/font]" As they walked, the path they took made a slight left and along the edge of hill. The path was narrow, enough to walk in a line so she took the lead.

On one side, a steep inclining hill and on the other a stream that became rough the further up they moved along the bank. Dirt became rocks and the sound of rushing water grew louder the longer they moved along her path. Her own steps sure and calculating before pausing to look back at her companion. It wasn't until she saw a wave of water bringing down a log towards them that she reached her hand out for his forearm in the hopes of holding him steady. Once the large vine and moss covered ram of wood caught on high stones in the water, did Alitetaal sigh and release him. She signaled for him to keep going before she started off again at a slower pace, letting him remain within reach. [/font]

---

Owl-butterfly's crash into Chair - 1x1 (closed) - Ghostly - 09-07-2015

<sub><img style="avatar" src="http://i.imgur.com/Kg8kHEX.png" style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;]
Again, her fascination with the fabric of his coat nearly astonished him. Perhaps the textile industry here was nonexistent. Actually, industry probably did not exist in the sense he was used to. Items were likely hand made and lacked the refinement that calibrated machinery provided. He had to wrap his head around the idea that this was a culture closed off from the modern galactic order. Azreal wouldn't correct her with how she decided to dress herself in his jacket the initial incident, nor the second. Naturally if it was too hot for him to wear the piece as he had, then it would be the same for her.

Azreal would deign to comment on how he could adequately take care of himself even in a foreign and likely dangerous place such as this. The entire point of going along with this strange woman, in how he was giving his best effort in acting as amicable as possible, was to root his existence here in with the populace as a non-hostile individual in order to ease a transition into a more diplomatic role. Most of his objectives could be achieved through force, but the backlash for those sort of actions were always going to be returned in kind some how some way.

Regardless of how he would machinate a way off of this world, his current objective was winning over his guide, whom he still had yet to receive a name from. Those proud lips did not dare utter words of thanks not at this stage in their discourse, but he was grateful for her assistance. Without it he'd be without any true direction in the dense woodlands that seemed to stretch endlessly instead of having a safe house already sorted out.

While his partner prepared herself for the journey by putting on a pair of well worn boots, Azreal wondered just how well his own shoes would fair in what would hardly be level terrain. Beyond that he took the opportunity to inspect her further for whatever detail about her that could provide him an edge if need be. Maybe another would have taken advantage and ogled a young woman freely as she bent over and revealed a bit more skin without the constraints of a civil society baring down upon them. However, Azreal was far from desperate for companionship, and long past the age where he let hormones override rational thought. What he did do was marvel at her athleticism in her testing how nimble she fared with added encumbrance, particularly interested in how she'd fair in combat if necessary. Either way, they were off now, and Azreal respected her intent to stay at his side rather than have her back to him. A smart decision in every way.

The crash site would be found out, he didn't doubt that. There were plumes of smoke rising from burning timber and smoldering metal, and he'd flown directly over the top of the only city he'd seen on this world as of yet. Someone would come to investigate. All he could hope was that the two of them could return in a quick enough period to camouflage the craft, or find a way to discourage looters.

Alitetaal wouldn't need to tell the blonde to keep quiet, even more so once the constant commotion of the wildlife died down around them to more recognizable sounds that could be picked out. Managing to remain in step with her with only slight difficulty, Azreal internally bemoaned his loafers. They would be comfortable in any situation besides the one he found himself in now. Conversation was light between them which was probably for the best as the louder they were the better a chance at being discovered. One of the few breaks they took was so that she could remove a container from her mess of hair. Explaining as she stood close by, he didn't shy away from her smearing the cool substance on his skin. She could have been trying to poison him, but he saw it as too obvious an attempt, than and she didn't miss a beat in applying it to herself as well. Immediately, it gave the refreshing effect she talked about and Azreal's demeanor noticeably improved. This was for sure a plant he'd have to be on the search for if he were to be stuck here.

As Ashrun had done before their trek through the forest for shelter, this time it was Azreal who fell upon a pause in his rebuttals. The first time he'd been rendered speechless in recent memory. Always spitting out witty remarks and insightful commentary without hesitation, the informational bombshell he'd been given as a passing reply to his question nearly stopped him dead in his tracks.

'<font color="c69bf6]I am Valar. I have none to flock with. I cannot change as the others can into the creatures of our planet.[/font]'

Again she spoke with a phrase he hadn't heard of prior, but he was quick on the uptake and understood the all important context. If what she said held merit, and there was little reason to believe she was lying, then he'd landed on a rock filled with free-form shifters. They couldn't be the same as him. His race were small in numbers and to his knowledge had never left their blue marble, at least not so long ago that they could colonize an entirely new planet. Still, it negated his trump card that he had over so many others. Shapeshifters were not uncommon in the universe, but most had limitations such as the changing breeds. These were a class that were beholden to a single beast to shift their form into; the most notable being the Garou, or werewolves. Certain sects of shifters were able to take the faces of other humans, or humanoid figures. His kind, and in the endless reaches of the cosmos it was feasible that similar beings existed, had the ability to steal the appearance of any sentient life they were able to lay their hands on.

'<font color="c69bf6]is from a failed transition...[/font]'

As she explained further he was stunned even further to where he was thankful that she took the lead through the narrow trail, as he surely had a less than distinguished look about him at the moment. This one he traveled with could alter herself to appear as inorganic material? Never had he seen another be able to perform such a feat, at least among the various shifter populations he'd encountered. What was once a befuddled man stumbling on uneven ground behind an oddity of a girl now had regained his composure. A curious smile on display he felt a renewed energy flow through him, likely in part from the gel she had smeared across his forehead. Without the humidity bearing on him relentlessly he could focus on all that she told him. Alitetaal probably did not realize how much the man gleamed from what was idle discussion, but Azreal already had an arsenal at his disposal compared to when he first arrived.

When they came to a stop, both turned to watch as the giant trunk of a fallen tree smashed against the rocks of the river they were traversing. Lucky were they that it had not continued downward towards them, or else a sudden jump out of the way would have been needed for sure. Alitetaal had taken hold of his arm as if to steady him from the threat and it gave way to a scheme that had been building for a while now. Well, since she informed him of her people's unique trait. As their eyes met he'd clasp a firm, but fleeting hand over her own that had grasped his forearm. Azreal let her go as she had with him, and created space between the two, never taking his gaze off of the jungle dwelling maiden. Confidence in his steps, even without being able to see the path behind him. "<font color="d4a017]You're selling yourself short in my opinion[/font]" Obviously he did not think for a second she'd understand his new idiom as with his past ones, but this was more for himself as often was the case. Over the span of a few seconds his physical shape would seem fluid, defined features transitioning into what would be the most familiar face to his companion, her own, though it did not quite fit into Azreal's formal attire. "<font color="d4a017]I consider myself one of the most talented shapeshifters around, and even I cannot mimic that which does not draw breath.[/font]" Eerily he'd possess even her own voice, though her accent was not so easily reproduced. Azreal kept those golden hues as if to show that he was still in fact himself underneath the guise. Beyond that, to prove his point further he brought up her mechanized limb. However, on his side there was merely unaltered flesh. "<font color="d4a017]What are the odds I'd be stranded in a land among a race nearly identical as my own?[/font]" Spoken to himself rather than her, it was said in a subdued manner. As if to answer the change in tone, his pace slowed to a halt as the performance he'd put on now came to an end.

Azreal wouldn't wear her look for more than a minute, he knew the rudeness in mocking another by taking their appearance as his own. Turning away from Alitetaal, he'd fill out the baggy clothing that hung loosely around her smaller body as he shifted back into his original form. "<font color="d4a017]I couldn't begin to assume what it means to be as you call it, a Valar. As you say, you are one of a kind. To me you have <font color="d4a017]potential and skill <font color="d4a017]above others [/font]in [/font]becoming not only the most inconspicuous of objects as well as the most sturdy, but also technical in nature. I wish I could do as you do.[/font]" Although she could not see from her angle, he had quite a grin upon him from the thought of the possibilities with her talents in at his fingertips. "<font color="d4a017]How far till we arrive, out of curiosity?[/font]" He'd glance up a break in the treetops to judge how far the suns above had moved in relation to when they first set out. "<font color="d4a017]I imagine that we do not wish to be wandering too much once we run out of sunlight.[/font]"</sub>

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Owl-butterfly's crash into Chair - 1x1 (closed) - Hobo_Bob - 09-07-2015


[size=small]The tree trunk that had been moving much too close to them had raised her heart beat, not wanting to be harmed and also not wanting Azreal to be hurt either. Alitetaal had no reason to want to protect him, no intelligent or logical purpose to her bringing him with her to her own home. A hide out none new about how to get to much less how to get in. Should he turn against her or not be as he seemed he was, then there was no place to hide that he wouldn't know about. But that still did not stop her from preparing to pull him away or block the trunk should it threaten to smash into him. An insane thought kept her in his view and grasp. He was like her in a way. Lost on a planet not their own. Where he had come from space where there were more people and cultures and traditions. She had been born and raised on this world, with the people and yet she was still as far from being apart of it as he was. For lack of a better analogy, a fish out of water that didn't need to be in water to live.

Her hand felt hot against his skin as he grasped her hand over his arm. Eyes meeting and her heart skipped for a different reason. He seemed older than she was by perhaps 10 years. Maybe more, one never knew. But that didn't take away from his beauty. The striking, clean features and sharp eyes. Predatory was one word to describe his gaze. Mischievous was another. But Alitetaal wouldn't judge him by the way he looked alone. Not till she knew him better than she did at that moment. The way he paused for just a brief moment should have worried her. There might have been more meaning to what he was saying without speaking till she pulled her hand away. He didn't stop her. That helped calm her racing heart But like many things about this man she traveled with, there was never the certainty to something unknown.

As they moved on - she at a slower pace - he spoke to her. His words were hard to understand, and not simply because she had a difficult time hearing him. Selling her self short? The one commodity one couldn't sell for even a rock was her. None wanted anything to do with her, and sure she was not tall by any means. But his words rarely meant what she thought they would. "<font color="#c69bf6]...I don't understand...[/font]" she whispered under her breath as she shuffled along a very narrow part of their path. Turning to her side now, her periwinkle eyes looked back at him as he spoke again, only what she saw was not his face, but her own.

Ashrun froze in place, staring at him with an unreadable expression. Her eyes remained transfixed on her face, taking in the details right down to the peek of her brow. The eyes remained as his were. Though even the voice seemed like her own. But slightly off. Her hand grasped at the moss on the wall, slowly picking it off as she simply stared at him. Her eyes darkened a little, lips began to move. But no sound came out the longer she stared at his transformation. The fact he could change was not a surprise, so to speak. Any one she had ever known could change their form. However, none could steal anothers likeness. A plant or bush, sure. A Kurln, of course. But the face, body and voice of an Aman. Even her was something else entirely. "<font color="#c69bf6]....The odds are unlikely somehow....[/font]" Ashrun moved closer to him, sliding along the stones and the hill till she stood close at his back.

She watched as he grew tall once more. His voice and his hair coming back into place while the clothes that hung lose were filled out to perfection. She wanted to run a hand along his body, make sure he was solid and real. To be sure that what she had seen him do was not just an illusion of the mist, but for what she really did see. His words and complement almost went unnoticed while she observed his body from behind, even leaning down to look at his legs and feet a bit closer. She was not atop him, they did not touch, but it would not take much from either party to do just that.

"<font color="#c69bf6]You do not know what it is to be Valar on this planet. A curse. An outsider, like you. But even less welcome since I am still born of an Aman..[/font]." Sighing almost sadly, Ashrun stood up and placed her hands on her waist to look at him sternly, a bit of a blush on her cheeks as she huffed in contained anger. " <font color="#c69bf6]Please do not take my form around me again. Soft words from my lips and voice aren't natural. Do use your own lip and silver tongue, Azreal.[/font]" And to show her displeasure at his play that much more apparent, she poked his back. When he turned away from her to change back into his own body, she wanted to play with his golden hair. Run a hand through the shimmering locks if only to see if they were wisps of real gold or simply a color the strands took. Of course, she refrained and gave a little sigh before motioning up the river with one hand, the other still poking his back as she spoke to him again. The sharpness of her tongue gone. "<font color="#c69bf6]Not but a few twinklings from a star left. And no, you will not want to breath in the air at night in these woods. Be quick, i'd like to have you washed before I can prepare the nights meal." [/font] 
 [/font]
[size=small]Ashrun turned about again and started off once more down the path...

It wasn't for about another three minutes that they found themselves in a rather small and cramped cave. Just beyond the most narrow part of the path was a large old tree that had fallen over and a new tree grew out from where the old had died. The opening was not but a sliver of rock that Alitetaal had to shoulder deeper into the mouth of the cave to give more room for Azreal. Once they were inside, nearly complete darkness. The smell of water and wet stones filled the air. The sound of the rushing water echoed int eh cave so it was hard to hear anything. Still, Ashrun seemed to relax more now they were underground where it was cooler. 

Said something to him then, but her words were drowned out by the river just outside. None the less, she tried again and knew she could not be heard. In the darkness, she huffed and once more took liberties with his person by grasping his hand and placing something metallic in his grasp. After a moment, light filled the small area carved out of stone from an item in her hand. A flashlight. A old one, by the looks of it but a flashlight none the less. Ashrun gave him a nod and move forward once more. Her pace a little faster. The intent to be home that much more important. But they wouldn't have to travel long. Down the cramped and low path before they turned left and the whole area opened up into something completely man made. 

An elevator that went down.

However, it was not getting any power. A little dated by anyone's standards, but not a sign of rust or corrosion. Obviously meant for the moist atmosphere. There were red markings on the walls by the elevator and on the doors to the machine itself. Words Alitetaal could not read, but knew their meaning from the years she spent living here. Now, she removed the metal pick from her hair and flicked it a few times. A new branch popping out with each flick till she had what turned out to be an authorization card. A screen filled in the middle on a projection, and the elevator sprang to life. Powering up. And sending the lift to their location at the top. "<font color="#c69bf6]It is just a few-....meters down. Are you okay with being underground?[/font]"
[/font]

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Owl-butterfly's crash into Chair - 1x1 (closed) - Ghostly - 09-10-2015

<sub><img style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;" src="http://i.imgur.com/Kg8kHEX.png" style="avatar]
Naturally, his friend was rather displeased with what he considered a fun display of what his species could do. To the shifter however, the reaction he garnered was priceless, not that he'd push the limits of what he could get away with. At this point she was not only his guide through an unknown wilderness, but also his sole civil contact on this foreign world. It was best not to provoke too much conflict per his interests in making survival here easier, but a little chiding now and then was healthy to keep any relationship from falling flat. Nothing was perfect, not him, not her, and certainly not this place. Azreal figured that he need not verbally agree to her request, merely giving a deep nod of his head. Those those golden hues were lowered to the ground for but a moment in respect before carrying onward as she lead the way hopefully to a cooler, safer hideout than out in the middle of the woods.

Information was key, and in her response to him taking her form, he learned, or at least assumed that while being able to shapeshift was not a rarity in these parts, Ashrun was quite unaccustomed in having to look at herself from her own perspective. Likely this meant that were he to steal the appearance of another as a disguise, it would not be immediately faulted upon; as long as the original party was incapacitated, likely killed as not to break the illusion of the deceit once they eventually made a return. Azreal may outwardly give off the aura of a killer, but when push came to shove he did whatever was necessary to survive.

While she pictured running her hands all over him as if to determine whether or not he were a figment of her imagination, or some grand prank being played against her, or if he truly was a lost traveler, Azreal was contemplating similar actions. Straying away from thoughts most uncouth for a man of his standing, he was interested in finding a way for him if possible to learn from her body. How her kind, or her specifically--he wasn't sure if being able to shift into inorganic material was specific to her exactly-- could take the shape of generic objects? He himself would perform vile, abhorrent acts, to get such a trait into his collective pool of talents. This was neither here nor there for such an abstract notion to be debated upon.

Even without the extract she'd given him to help cool off, by walking along the stream as they were it was easily a more comfortable trail to blaze than by trudging across thick underbrush. This was still a difficult path to keep a brisk pace along if only because of his choice in footwear, but all in all, this could be going far worse. The conversation had died down which was to be expected, especially since she had mentioned how close they were to their destination. It wasn't that he had nothing on his mind to speak of, but if she had such a home in what appeared to be completely out of the way, then it was reasonable to say that it was to not be found. It would aid them none to have someone discover where they were camping out just for him to get a few more quips in.

Coming to a rock face, Azreal would have missed the entrance entirely if he were to have wandered upon this area on his own. Impressively camouflaged by nature itself, Ashrun made to push aside a boulder to create an opening barely wide enough for his larger physique to squeeze inside. Compared to the brutality of the trio of suns beating down on one's person outside, the damp interior was heaven. After only a few steps though, did the dim light filtering through the narrow space become practically useless in the enclosed environment. Of course he came to a halt rather suddenly, Azreal may have possessed oculars of a supernatural variety, but they weren't going to give him sight in a near pitch black cave. That and the rushing waters outside were echoing throughout the cavern making any sort of communication rough. He only hoped that his companion knew her way through here well. In his hand was hurriedly placed a slim, cylindrical object, and without even feeling the rest of it, the device instinctively felt like a flashlight. Almost earthen in design, older, but still efficient in illuminating their less than spacious enclosure, his partner came well prepared for sure, far better than himself. Still, this didn't feel, how did he put it, like a safehouse, but with the pathway lit up, Alitetaal took to paving the way for him yet again.

Following, Azreal kept a steady beam straight ahead, though his gaze shifted around to inspect his surroundings. Ultimately he remained uninterested, until the two came upon a structure that he thought did not belong where it did. "<font color="d4a017]I was not expecting to see anything like this here.[/font]" Without realizing he'd spoken out loud, the man shone the light over the elevator as if to date the technical age of it, but it wasn't particularly within his territory to judge. Returning the focus back to Ashrum, he gave a bit of a smile, breaking that professional stare he'd been keeping up all the while. Azreal was rather pleased with where she'd taken him. "Even if I wasn't, my curiosity would have me descend with you all the same." What he wouldn't say was that his interest mixed with her as well as the strange home she'd brought him to. As the lift rose to their level, he wondered just how she'd come across this location. After all, he'd not believe for a second she built all of this. "<font color="d4a017]I will say, I'm looking forward to cleaning up, not that I want to get back into these clothes anytime soon.[/font]" He couldn't help but chuckle at what a mess he was, anything but distinguished as his feet and lower pants were soaked from the river, and his shirt was stuck against his skin like a wet blanket. "<font color="d4a017]This seems like quite the out of the way place for you to just happen upon.[/font]" A blunt question, but he was wondering its origin all the same, or at least how it came to be with her.

ooc: I might edit it a bit once I wake up, but this is what I have right now. :3</sub>

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Owl-butterfly's crash into Chair - 1x1 (closed) - Hobo_Bob - 09-12-2015


[size=small]For a moment, Ashrun didn't know how to reply to his awe. Perhaps due to where he crashed, he assumed a wooden hut or a cave. technically, they were in a cave. But they would to have to sleep on rocks or dirt. But a thing so soft and wonderful. Both warm and cradling. A mattress. Thinking about her wonderful bed, she smiled gleefully - not wanting to let him see her anger was diminished, however, she hid the grin behind a hand. Faking a few coughs. It wasn't that she was upset he took on her appearance, but that he unnerved her. He could take shapes not only that of creatures if his story was to be true, but of other Aman. Apparently, for now, she was the only likeness he could take. Perhaps it would be best not to let him into any settlements until he could be trusted not to use her likeness again. Should he wish to stir up troubles. Perhaps also wise not to get on his bad side. Both her mind and her heart nodded in agreement.

Turning to him, her expression was as it had been before her thoughts about her bedding. She simply nodded and reached for his flashlight, carefully pulling it from his grasp just as a dim white light flickered on over head from over the elevator. She set the flashlights down on a rock that was flat almost intentionally. A small table as she began to speak. "<font color="#c69bf6]No one but myself and my family know of this place. Well...just me now, I suppose.[/font]" She muttered the last part under her breath as the doors to the elevator opened, letting a brighter white light flood the cave and allow them to walk inside. 

She moved first, stepping into a round lift and holding her hand over the entrance so as to allow him to walk in before the door closed. For a moment, she didn't look up at him, kept her eyes on the ground by his feet as if thinking. Perhaps it was the way she sucked on her lower lip, pulling it just under the top row of her teeth that showed the contemplation on her mind.

Once he stepped into the lift, she released the door and they shut quietly just before they began their descent. Still, she didn't look up at him. Her periwinkle eyes remained focused on the surprisingly clean tiled floor and hands grasped the bar along the sides of the small room. There was space enough for perhaps three people of her size, but with Azreal there was space for just one body about her size. Ashrun felt uncomfortable being alone in a small space with someone she did not know at all. And even worse, she was bringing him to her home. The choice was her own, and regrets began to rise. All things were not as they seemed in every being. He could shift, giving him an ability she knew and yet his own forms were terrifyingly unknown to her. Still, he had been polite and kept a type of propriety she recognized. Only due to her female ex-sibling.

Lifting her eyes from the ground to his face, she changed her expression slightly. Her body leaning away from the wall and closer to him.

"<font color="#c69bf6].....Aliteetal.[/font]" she  squeaked out after a long moment of frozen stillness, " <font color="#c69bf6]Aliteetal Relesadlioh-....Ilasang. Or Ashrun. My-...name.[/font]" Finally, she chose to speak her name. The sounds flowing from one syllable to the next with a movement much like a song. They played in the quiet of the lift - far from the sound of rushing water - and then she shrank back towards the wall as if embarrassed. However, she did not shy away from his gaze, letting herself become more bold as she motioned to the almost dry garb she wears. "<font color="#c69bf6]I think there is a set of clothing left by my first brother. He was not as large or tall as you, but they are loose. While you clean and wash in the waters, I will find them and make adjustments if they are needed. Though, it will take time to make them fit....perhaps a long robe to cover while these dry.[/font]" her eyes strayed down from his face to his body. Her gaze on his person was not lecherous, nor was it indicating they did not appreciate what they saw. Only that she was thinking of his clothes and how to keep his decency while the garb he wore now was cared for. It was clear that he was not dressed for the harsh heat or humidity of her planet. Perhaps for other worlds and in space, his clothing was perfectly matched. 

Further down they moved, the quiet ring indicating the 'levels' they descended. Each number lit up in red, the panel flashed as they passed and moved further down. Then, on the 8th floor down the numbers turned green. They still moved further down, however much slower. Till they reached the bottom floor. Level 10. The doors opened, and the view of what looked to be mainly Earthen technology and structure lay beyond a metal room with one glass-paneled wall to observe what could only be known as part of Ashrun's safehouse.

"<font color="#c69bf6]Father said he was brought here and this is where i've been all my life...[/font]"




[/font]

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Owl-butterfly's crash into Chair - 1x1 (closed) - Ghostly - 09-14-2015

<sub><img style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;" src="http://i.imgur.com/Kg8kHEX.png" style="avatar]
His guide allowed Azreal to enter the elevator first, and the golden eyed male did not waste the gesture, giving her a nod as he passed her by. Once inside and joined by Ashrun, he noted quickly how cramped a space it was to share between the pair. Azreal gave her room to stand by leaning against a wall, but that only went so far. The doors closed, and with a shake of the box, the two were on their way downward. Without anywhere else to focus his gaze rest on Ashrun, whom seemed quite intent at burning a hole into the floor tiles with her oculars as though with a power he had yet to witness. If he were truly here to strike her down, then this was a key opportunity. Half of the forms at his disposal could make short work without a ready way out of their current confinement. Azreal did not of course; contrary to the belief of several galactic policing agencies he was not evil, or without morals. While many of his methods were underhanded, and while he was undoubtedly a killer, everything he did in life had a beginning and an end; there was purpose to all of his actions, a plan in motion.

When her periwinkle hues met his shimmering pools Azreal was somewhat unprepared, thinking she would stay lost in her own thoughts for a longer spell. Instead she'd lean towards him, and he found himself with a strange feeling that he attributed to a sort of fight or flight response, danger in a sense he wasn't used to. There was a softer sort of smile on his features after finally receiving a designation to call her by. In the back of his mind he wondered the cause for the sudden change, though he placed credit to the two having reached a safe area on this seemingly harsh planet. "<font color="d4a017]Alitay..tial Rehlay...sahde...leoh Elahsong[/font]" Spoken moments after in a muted voice, Ashrun's name was far from impossible for him to pronounce, but most certainly did he take his time in running the numerous syllables over his tongue. Less than melodic did it sound than when it came from the originator. Again, it was perhaps the accent, or just the way Azreal spoke in a contemplative, precise manner. While he did not doubt the probability in him rapidly learning how to speak her given name, likely he would choose Ashrun for the sake of simplicity.

In regards to clothing, he was pleased at the notion of having a proper garb to dress in the sweltering heat on the surface. He'd adapt given a few weeks, surely, but this was not a solution that would help in the here and now. "<font color="d4a017]I'll wear a loin cloth if I have to, anything but my suit at this point. If your brother had anything left behind, It'll do it until you can throw something together that fits, happily in fact.[/font]"

From there he fell silent with a low chuckle at the thought of prowling around with merely a strip of fabric around his waist. Azreal appreciated all of this, he truly did, though the woman had no long standing relationship to judge him on. She'd understand how to gauge the emotions he displayed behind a mask eventually. Lights from the console she had activated were not gone unnoticed by Azreal. When she had mentioned going underground, he did not expect being brought down into the depths of the cave network. When he actually had a chance to see out of the lift with the entrance opening up he didn't hesitate in stepping just outside into the more spacious room. That glass frame caught his attention next, the shifter putting himself up to it in order taking in the expansive view it provided. "<font color="d4a017]It doesn't seem to be the most advanced, but certainly more so than trees and undergrowth of the jungle.[/font]" Color Azreal impressed. If he had to be stranded, down here would be appealing over a makeshift fort of branches and leaves. What he said like before was for himself instead of Aliteetal, and he knew it was rude, but it was better than keeping said notions in his head the whole time. Instead he moved onward to learn more about his companion instead of his surroundings, at least for right now. "<font color="d4a017]Why are you alone now then? What happened to your family?[/font]" The question was a powerful one, and in his heart he believed he had the answer even if she choose not to give it. Sad was it to have no one, but then he himself was in a similar situation, though one of his own making, and choosing for that matter. Honestly, her entire scenario thus far sounded rather tragic.</sub>

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Owl-butterfly's crash into Chair - 1x1 (closed) - Hobo_Bob - 09-16-2015


[size=small]Odd. Something about the way he spoke her name did not sound right, so when she offered up her changeling name, part of her was hopeful he would not call her anything but. Only for the sake of her hearing. The name Ashrun's father had given her was something not many on Aman could say they had outside of the city. Family names. Ilasang was her fathers fathers fathers name, going far back as she could remember. Or at least what she had been told. Still, he knew what to call her now and suspected anything else but her names would be used. Hopefully he would not resort to calling her anything less. 

"<font color="#c69bf6]Trees and jungle overgrowth are not to my liking either....but I did have to make a few repairs with what I was able to get. I am not a skilled builder...[/font]" her eyes followed him as he stepped towards the glass, visibly cringing at the tracks he left behind on the clean flooring. Globs of mud and sticks and pebbles fell from his long pants and left a trail in his wake. She would clean once more before the end of the day, even if she was tired enough to sleep for days. Where he walked onto the landing immediately, Ashrun took the time to remove the boots on her feet and set them in a shabby wooden box. A kind of wet area for the items she would not need past this point. Her feet bare once more, she shivered at the feel of the cold metal along the bottom of her feet. "<font color="#c69bf6]Not-....I think I can fashion a loin cloth if you allow me to measure you.[/font]" like many things, she wished those words could be taken back. They were meant how they were, simply to measure his waist and determine the length and width of the cloth in which he could use to cover him. But perhaps they did not seem that way.

Hiding her face from his view - a tint of red spreading along her face and ears -Ashrun turned her back and faced the elevator. With her back to him, she was able to close the elevator doors manually and lock them, removing a similar metal stick from the panel against the wall and sticking it into her hair. Much as she had the other from before. The white light that spilled from the crack of the lift doors faded and the panel died with a flicker of green. Should any try to use the mechanism without the power strip in her hair, they would not be able to. 

She turned once more to look at Azreal from behind, taking in his appearance now that she was in the almost perfect safety of her home. 

From the wet hair atop his head to the way the clothes stuck to his body, not an inch of his body from behind was dismissed. Shoulders lead to arms and then finger tips. Which then focused on his hips and down pillars for legs and disappeared in flat shoes. His clothes alone were something of a wonder, thinking about the weight of the short robe around her waist in comparison to a whole suit made of possibly similar material. He was wet, but perhaps not all of it from water. Ashrun wanted to cringe in disgust at that thought, but she was not far from being in that same boat of 'need to bathe now.' Perhaps not as drenched, but none the less. 

But her dreaming was cut short when he asked about her familial situation.

"<font color="#c69bf6]It-.....appears i've been left behind.[/font]" There was no more to say. True, her mother was never part of her life and her father all but babied her from the moment she couldn't change into anything from Aman, but a sister and brother still did exist. From what she could tell, anyways. But there was no real reason to tell him exactly everything when he gave so little of himself. Ashrun moved closer to him, standing at his side with little distance between them. She did not look down at the water as one might think, she looked him in the face with an expression that showed no pain or loss. Her left hand grasped her skirt at her side in a tight grasp and the right hand reached for her ear lobe, lightly stroking with her finger as she continued. "<font color="#c69bf6]Everyone is gone. I don't want to share what I have with others from Aman. But you are not of this planet, so you are an exception.[/font]" She almost smiled at her joke. Almost.

"<font color="#c69bf6]Come, i'll show you to the hall of rooms and then to the showers. There is a pool for water, I suggest that over a shower. It is much more relaxing.[/font]" turning away from him quickly, she padded along the metal flooring and followed the wall of glass. It curved to the right from where they stood, following a dim hall way to a lone airlock door. There was no handle or hatch, simply another panel that was dead. Aliteetal took the metal stick from her hair and inserted it into a slot on the panel. The door clicked a few times and then opened slowly, just enough to see inside. That is, will Ashrun pushed open the door the rest of the way and motioned to Azreal. "You step in first. I have to retrieve my ID card."

She would wait till he walked over the threshold before pulling out her key and jumping through the opening. Once she was on the other side, a half second later the door would slam and lock back into place. Obvisouly who ever built this place was intending to keep it from any outsiders.

On the other side was another long hall with the continuing glass wall to their left. But to their right were doors. Some wooden, some metal and then empty frames or open doors. In total, about nine of them in a row and spaced out almost evenly. There was hardly any light source, and yet the hall was not dark. The glass brought in what natural lighting there was to be had outside in the open cave, the water reflecting the beam of strange blue light and encasing the whole area in it's glow. "<font color="#c69bf6]These I use for storage. Or i'd like to. I don't keep alot of things down this far from my apartments. I'll take you there and you can share a room with me. Unless you'd prefer you own space...?[/font]" Instead of putting the key back into her hair, she handed it to him with a nod. He would need one anyways and her supply of keys was nearly endless. 

[/font]

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