Fantasy Post-apocalyptic Fantasy [ Jump-in RP ! ]

[7catsinatrenchcoat]

Accibelle quickly caught the jacket that was thrown at her as the man grumbled and left. Her large eye settled on the four arm man with a tired look. "Don't be so dumb next time." She tossed the jacket to him. Usually she wasn't the type to do drastic things unless she benefited from it. She wasn't some sort of vigilante or hero. The only person who mattered to her was herself, but when she saw the poor pathetic guy getting his stuff taken she felt a pang of sympathy, remembering what it had been like for her before she became so cynical. 


She scanned the area to make sure no one else was around and spotted a silhouette of another creature. She squinted, trying to get a better look at whoever it was.

Maxwell stared down at his jacket with an opened mouth, then back up at the apparently-not tar monster. Very rarely was he greeted with any form of kindness, even if the kindness came through in actions rather than tone of voice or words. He hugged the jacket to himself, then quickly wrapped himself in it. The boy watched as the thief ran off still with cans of food that he'd spent so long looking for, then glanced back at the insignificant pile that was left behind. 
  "I - Uh. Thank you. I hope you have good luck in the future." He nodded to her leaving statement of 'stay out of trouble', as if he was ever going to try and get into trouble, as if he, Maxwell, four-armed wreck of a man, would ever try to go and - Oh, forget it. She was gone already, and there was no point in trying to come up with some sarcastic remark to give to a strange stranger that had already left.

With a sigh, he started back over to his not-really-a-pile, and began to pick through it's contents. The jackets pockets were also modified to be able to carry somewhat large amounts of stuff, but he would definitely need to leave stuff behind. At least he still had his water in hand. Losing that would have been bad. Three cans were able to be saved. Oh, fruit salad? That sounded like a hearty, warm meal. Great that that was one of the foods he had. Each can was shoved somewhat tightly into each modified pocket, two outside, one inside, and he stuck any extra small tidbits into the fourth remaining pocket. He looked down at the pile, then back up the street. The fact that there were burned out shells of houses behind him didn't improve on the atmosphere the apocalypse already had. He gave a loose can a ki- No he did not. Baked beans? Christ, he'd thought that they'd been taken. He considered sacrificing one of his current cans, but ending up carrying it instead. Four was better than three.

With a final sigh, he moved on. Hopefully someone who needed the food would find it.

 

[galacticspaceray]

Ashtar's tail feathers once again twitched in panic. This monster thing spoke of hunting, and she didn't intend to become someone's prey.


Despite her internal panic, Ashtar rearranged her expression to a more calm and cold one. Though her heartbeat was so loud she was sure the beast could hear it from within her ribcage. She took a deep breath to steady herself. She was not going to be this thing's prey.


"I don't really give information about myself to strangers," Ashtar said coolly. "To avoid anything being used against me. So, if you'll excuse me, I've got to dash."


Ashtar then turned and sprinted away, unfurling her wings and flaring her tail feathers to catch air. With a great flap, she took off, a few feathers flying away in the process. She soared above the buildings of the wrecked city, using them for cover.


@Deadly Darkness @Malhyanth


(it's alright man! we all get busy with life sometimes)

 

[Kry]

Rua walked down the street with his arms laden with canned goods. The ones he had taken from the four armed man, his eyes darted this way and that as we went, mostly looking for a safeish place to stop. All the while he moved, he seemed to be talking to himself, though he would sometimes glance at the empty space on his right, as if looking at someone. A ghost moved with Rua, though it was more like his psychosis had him believing that the ghost of his dead twin brother was following him around. Talking to him. Eventually the blonde would fall silent, a very serious expression making it's way to his face as he looked around for a safe place to rest and eat some of the food he had managed to snatch. If only he had been able to get some water as well, but that was fine. He would find some eventually. Maybe.

 

[Malhyanth]

@galacticspaceray @Deadly Darkness


The beast-man huffed, as the bird creature's flighty nature took control, and she fled; not, it seemed, without leaving him a token!! His eyes widened as the large flight feathers from her covents, or perhaps it was a scapular set, fluttered down from her flight path. He scurried away from the tar creature, brain suddenly enraptured and, one might almost presume, a certain degree of obsession flashed, and led him to forget what could be a potentially dangerous foe. One might be fooled into thinking he didn't care about the potential danger posed as he turned his long, slender back on the girl. No. It wasn't foolishness, or a lack of care for her potential danger level; it was more that was a lack of acknowledgement to it. He knew she could be a potential foe, but instead of protecting himself, he allowed an opening to test her resolve, to test her skill level. Did she see the devious flick of the tail, the ears still focussed, though eyes followed the floating descent of the feathers, and the hands were focused on the gentle task of their collection once landed? Maybe, but the Collector knew this girl was no fool, and if she chose to take an opportunity, she would not live to regret it. She just would not live!


How does one scare a creature that is not fearful of Death? One that holds open his arms in gentle recognition of a friend that is Death? One that believed himself the messages of the Dark One?


Once his task was complete, and the feathers carefully laid across his slender, slightly padded palm, his grin was cast back to the tar beast. "Vhat am I? Do djou not mean 'who'?" The Collector's lips pursed around his elongated fangs as he eyed the many-eyed companion to his musings. "One might deem to ashk djou zhe shame. Vhat are you? Vhat am I? I am shomezhink zhat arosh vrom darknessh. Probably mucsh like djou." He waved his empty clawed hand in her direction, as his long, fluid legs folded neatly beneath his frame. His tail wavered a little, keeping his balance. The hand outstretched with the feathers was rigid, as the other gently stroked them, eyes enraptured by their swirling creams, browns and blacks, intricate patterns that made no sense in the singular, but which had been so beautiful in the whole.


"Zhat one vhicsh dropsh zhesh vezhuresh show non-shalantly... She wash veak. I could shmell it, and looking at djou. Djou could shee it, could shensh it. She wash nozhing but meat to mine eyesh. Djou? Djou 'ave shomzhink more about djou. Shomzhink like a power..." Again, he allowed himself to become enraptured by the feathers. One was nearly as long as his forearm, and he gently took this between the long clawed fingertips of his free hand. Carefully, the smaller feathers were secreted amongst one of the many pouches and drop bags that hung from the woven flesh belt that held his loincloth low on his hips. This longer feather, he unsheathed the sharp femur blade for, and gently, he took the blade to the feather, cleaning a mere inch from the bottom of the feather's sides, leaving 3 inches of clean quill. This, he placed against the blade, and using his padded thumbs, he pressed down, with a hiss from between his fangs and blood dripped from the blade as his own blood smeared across the quill. An accident? Unlikely. The sticky substance was worked diligently into the slice in the quill, then keeping the blood away from the feather's beautiful surface, a claw hooked one of the front dreadlocks out from under the shawl. This dislodged it from his head, and it fell about his neck, revealing a myriad bones, skulls, feathers, beads, and other unmentionables interwoven with the smeared lengths. The feather was gently worked into the heart of the dreadlock, clearly one of the longest on his head, stiff with paste, and decorated elaborately. On the end of it, a gold ring glittered, the ruby gem at its heart matching his eyes.


He did not bother to replace the hood, and once happy the feather was not moving, and was going to sit perfectly, following the contour of his own skull, he once again stood, though not to his full, instead keeping hunched; keeping comfortable. This tar-girl was interesting to him, after all. "But... djou did not ashk 'who', but 'vhat'! Childish gamesh djou play! I like it!" The barking laugh that escaped his chest was loud and jovial, though edged like his dagger, which he once again sheathed. His thumbs continued to drip, though it was slowing as his body coagulated against the wounds; more scars to add to his lacework. "I am a Collector. I do not, beyond zhat, 'ave a name. Zhome vould be forgiven, yesh, for mishtaking myshelf vizh my dear, Dark friend. I, like 'e, collect from zhe dead. 'E zhere shoulsh, I? I collect zhe resht!" Once again, the Collector opened his arms, only this time it was done in such a way that the full extent of his collection was revealed. Ribcages that bound his upper arms and wrists, all the bones in his mane, the necklaces about his throat covered in the bones and skulls of various creatures, skulls at his waist, the bone hilt of his bone machete. The feathers, the furs, the skins, the hides. The blood paste that still wafted around them. His red eyes glinted.


"Bone Collector zhey call me; Meat Eater; Deazh'sh Friend. Take vhat I need, shteal vhat I need. 'Ave a pretty fashe be'ind zhat mashk? If I vanted it, it vould be mine." A slow chuckle spanned the gap between them, and he settled himself back on his haunches, looking most canine for a moment, like a dog that had learnt the "beg" trick, and he was hoping for a treat. Though what would one treat this cannibal with to tell him "good boy"? The Collector was sure, in his musings, it was unlikely this tar-creature would wish to find out!

 

[galacticspaceray]

There was something about that beast that bothered Ashtar greatly. It -- He -- reeked of death, and from what she could see from him was very few skulls and leathers that hung off of him, and Ashtar didn't want to become part of that collection. What had creeped her out even more was when he touched her wing, which was definitely not okay with her. She had her personal space, but Ashtar was sure that the beast did not care about that.


Was she a coward for backing out of the situation? Maybe, but Ashtar was not interested in what others thought of her. This was the end of the world, and Ashtar didn't want anything other than to survive as long as possible.


However, she had a feeling she might run into the beast again some time.


( @Malhyanth: i was thinking that maybe the collector could sort of follow her scent at some point? ash likes walking along the rooftops or something. idk but i really want her to interact with the collector more. sorry she just flew away like that :/)

 

[Deadly Darkness]

(up in the mountains today, but I have the perfect response to the Bone collector when I get the chance!)

 

[7catsinatrenchcoat]

Well then. In terms of where to go, Maxwell would rather run into the not-tar-monster again rather than his friend the thief, and so he decided to take her path forward. His hands were wrapped tightly around his knife, waterskin and baked beans, all precious treasures to him, and his free hand was already clung into a tight fist. The boy moved slow, looking to the sides to inspect any and every nook and cranny for something that could be either useful to him, or harmful. Both were important things to look out for.

He continued down the alleyway, shoulders tensed and steps as light as he could make them. Something about the closed-in area made him a hell of a lot more nervous than he had been since he entered the wreckage of the city, despite him having entered smaller and far more dangerous looking areas. There was something in the air, a tension, a... smell? God, it smelled like death and decay, and stronger than it usually should in a city like this. He turned the other way, away from the scent, but that alleyway only led him to a dead end. How wonderful. With yet another sigh (Sigh count: 5), he turned back towards the wonderful smell of dead things, and switched his hands so the knife was in a lower hand and his fist in a higher one. Just in case.
 

 

[Deadly Darkness]

A smile pulled at her lips from behind her mask. "My apologies, I suppose I should've asked your name. How rude of me." The playful tone of her voice came through clearly. She watched with a faint look of amusement as he showed off his collection to her. "Interesting," she began, pacing around the collector. "How you choose to catch your prey. Maybe you're familiar with the saying; there are two ways to catch a fly, one with vinegar and one with honey." She watched as he left multiple opportunities for her to attack, but knew by the way his ears remained pointed that he was expecting something like that, and besides she was having fun. "You use your potency, much like vinegar, to catch and kill your prey. I, on the other hand, am like honey, using my charm and," she paused and gestured to her body. "Charisma, if you will, to lure my prey in until I catch them." 


She watched as he adjusted into what she assumed to be a more comfortable position. It was truly an amusing position. It suggested that he was subordinate to her, like he was her pet. Slowly she stepped forward; she had a thought in mind, but it was potentially fatal. She silently took in a deep breath, remaining calm on the outside, and set her tar covered hand on top of his head. Even through the substance, she could feel the matted state of his fur and hair. Now being even closer she looked him over more subtly. He was obviously intelligent by his level of speech. A fighter based on the landscape of scars that covered him. But he also had a sense of dignity or rather embarrassment possibly, evident by the cloth he wore around his waist to cover himself. Wearing clothing was a much more human thing than animal. It was possibly a weakness. Not one she planned on using, but it was important to note everything.


@Malhyanth

 

[Malhyanth]

((I'm driving home to my folks' today, but should be able to respond once I get there; then my responses may be more sporadic as we'll be celebrating a New Year Christmas! I'll catch up if you scoot on without me c; ))

 

[Deadly Darkness]

(I'm too curious to see where this goes! And after all, you did wait for me  )

 

[7catsinatrenchcoat]

(( HAPPY NEW YEARS MY GUYS! 

 

[Deadly Darkness]

(I still have five hours xD)

 

[7catsinatrenchcoat]

(( dude its 6:15pm in New Zealand catch up q:

 

[galacticspaceray]

(HAPPY NEW YEAR)
(HOPEFULLY 2017 IS KINDER TO US)

 

[7catsinatrenchcoat]

(( LET HER BE GENTLE

 

[Malhyanth]

((Sorry for the delay guys!! Got myself rather tipsy on NYE, and struggled for two days XD ))


@Deadly Darkness - If you have issue with any of this, as I want to write his truest reaction, please PM and I'll alter!


The Bone Collector couldn't say he hadn't noticed her body. She covered herself in tar-ish substances, but her curves and rounded body certainly weren't hidden. He wouldn't exactly say she was honey though. Her smell was unpleasant to his senses, not as harsh as his own, but not exactly a sweet popsicle on a hot day! She smirked, a hint of fang showing as he crosses his arms over his chest, not exactly a show of indignation at her words, but rather a show of jovial amusement; she was no honey pot!!!


"Vinegar and 'oney, djou shay?" Amusement danced in his ruby eyes, his mouth playing with the words, lending them inflection. He was expressive, and dramatic as it was, but this was a more honest amusement, a more honest thought spoken a loud. "I believe djour 'oney may be rotten, lassh!" His laughter reverberated through the street, silent as the grave, it's empty husks of buildings standing like lonely monoliths to a live loved previously.


The Bone Collector watched her closely. Her movements spoke of a mischievous thought. Was she so unaware of his danger? She approached, sultry, and it was her turn to reach out the hand; his eyes hardened as the sticky limb connected with his head. His arm lashed out, forearm connecting with her own to push it away. In the same motion his legs straightened, and a smooth 'shiiiik' could be heard as his machete was drawn, its thin, sharp edge whipping round and landing close to her throat, but not enough to touch, not enough to slice. Air hissed from his sharpened fangs, and his Hard eyes stared, unblinking, into the mask of the creature before him.


"Shtupid..." He whispered, eyes narrowing. "And 'ere I wash, zhinking djou vere like me. Tired of zhoshe vhich do not take djou sherioushly." He leaned in closer, tapping the blade against her collarbone, gentle, careful not to knick her skin, not quite yet. The Collector's dark tongue lashed out to like his own lips, as well as the teeth of the skull covering his face. The hard ruby eyes flicked over her face, reading her reaction to this situation.


"Djou eshpected me to allow djour tousch? Vhy?" He tilted his head, sniffing at her hair, tongue flicking out close to her tainted skin. His height would force her to look up at him, his blade at her throat would encourage it. He sneered, knowing from her short angle she would see his elongated fangs as he did so. "Djou vant a pet? May'ap djou 'ave bitten more zhan djou can chew vizh zhish one." He chuckled again, low, dangerous, calculating. He raised a hand, clawed, vicious, and finally touched her himself, running the back of his pasted hand against her cheek, noting the way it's strange texture mixed with that of her tar, greying the vibrancy of his mixture. He took her chin in his hand and forced her head further back, lowering his face as if to kiss her mask.


At the last moment he spun from her, bored. His blade retracted swiftly from her throat and he stepped back with a flick of his cloak. He kept the blade in hand, but gave her a bow. "Djour actionsh dishappoint me. I shall bid djou Adieu. Shame. I vould 'ave liked to 'unt vizh djou!" He stepped back again, and waved a little with his free hand, the one tainted with his tar; he stroked this into the top of his mane and over the top of his skull, a reminder of her, unless she meant to stop his retreat from her.

 

[Deadly Darkness]

"Everything's a little rotten now a days, but we take what sweetness we can get." She flinched as he knocked her hand back and stood to his full height once more. She was thankful for the she wore that hid the sudden fear that flashed across her face. "A pet? Don't be ridiculous." Her voice was cool, but her blood rushed through body at the soft tap of the blade. His height and blade forced her to crane her neck, looking up at him. She could feel him smelling her hair, which gave off a natural murky scent. "I was simply curious, and you gained something from it. Now you know it's not toxic, at least to the touch." Her voice came out smoothly. She watched curiously as he lowered his face closer to her mask. When his hands made contact with her face she jolted slightly. Her heart beat rapidly in a mix of fear and excitement. It was quite the adrenaline rush. But then as quickly as it came he twirled away from her and spoke of how she had disappointed him. This left her rather flustered; to undergo such extreme emotion and have revoked as some kind of punishment.


She pulled her mask off with a sigh, watching him. "A shame indeed," her voice was much sweeter and melodic now without the modulator. Her pale skin seemed to glisten in what light came from the overcast sky. "And this had been so entertaining."


@Malhyanth

 

[galacticspaceray]

Ashtar eventually touched down around the outskirts of the city, near its almost-ruined forest. Her stomach was rumbling, and she needed something to eat.


She folded her wings in a heart shape on her back, and started walking along the path. This was where the suburbs used to be. Some houses still stood, and some houses had been reduced to rubble. Ashtar would find shelter in one of the houses, but she would still need food.


She opened the door of one of the houses quietly, hoping no one was in there -- at least, no one hostile.


The front door led right into a living room and stairs. The windows were still intact, which meant no one had ransacked the house. As she got closer to the kitchen, she gagged at the smell of rot. Flies gathering around refrigerator was an indication of no one being in this house for years. She searched the cupboards for anything canned, and was quite pleased with the results. She happily took a can of baked beans and tomato soup, then briefly searched for a spoon.

 

[Malhyanth]

@Deadly Darkness


The Collector's eyes narrowed as he watched her reaction to his moving away. He was losing interest increasingly, but she was skilled at drawing his attention again for a short burst. However his mind was pulling. He had a winged beast to hunt, and he was starting to feel his stomach almost concave with his hunger. It had been a few days since he had eaten  last, and like the canine stock his DNA seemed to be from, he could cope with this starvation and binge cycle.


"Mmm. I cannot shay djou do not intrigue me, lassh." He muttered, a long claw tapping the teeth of his mask. His hard eyes were now tinted with distrust, but also a twisted sense of intrigue and desire. "I vould shay join me, but... I get zhe feeling djou may dishapprove of my nexsht target." His tongue slid over his teeth as he though of the desireable creature. His clawed fingers idly rose to stroke carefully at the new adornment on his head. He stood tall, and tightened his wandering hand into a fist, turning from her, his tail swaying lazily from side to side. She no longer worried him, his apprehension around her lost now he had met with her. He started his long loping walk, before seeming to shrink as his long spine leant forwards, his shape seeming to pop and twist before her eyes to a creature just as comfortable on four legs as on two. As he stalked off toward the direction their previous comrade flew, he threw a look over his shoulder.


"Are djou coming?" His elongated face split into a large grin. The idea of a hunt had got him excited. His claws, not finger and toe, dug into the dirt below him. His long tail lashed, once, twice. He stood, watching the girl, awaiting her response. Should she deny him, he would be gone, unlikely to see her in this apocalypse again. He didn't mind. But he had to admit; he wanted to see her hunt.

 

[galacticspaceray]

After her meal, Ashtar considered getting rid of the fridge. The rotting smell that it was giving off might lead that thing to her, and Ashtar wanted the exact opposite of that. Her chest tightened at the memory of the murderous glint of his red eyes. It was clear: he saw her as food, and couldn't wait to sink his teeth into her. Ashtar shuddered at the thought.


She would need to keep moving. If he was anything like a dog, he would be able to smell her scent. If she stayed somewhere with a lot of water, then maybe she would be safe. Her thoughts travelled to the nearby forest. It was burnt down in many areas, true, but if she flew in deep enough, she might be able to lose that creature. It was worth a shot.


Ashtar curled up on the sofa. Daylight was burning, and she had flown a lot today. A well-deserved nap was in order.

 

[Deadly Darkness]

Accibelle shrugged with feigned interest. "Then I suppose this is goodbye, Collector." She pulled her mask back on. "It's been a real treat, but your hunt is quite different from mine." She then began off in the opposite direction, headed towards the forested area to do her own hunting. She wasn't one for hunting people, don't solely based on a moral idea, but rather they weren't big enough. They didn't have enough muscle or fat on them to be a substantial meal. There were much better mutated animals out in the outskirts of town that would make for a better meal.


@Malhyanth

 

[7catsinatrenchcoat]

The boy continued forward through the alleyways until he came across voices, that sickly scent of decay becoming nearly over-powering. An open square greeted him, a welcome sight considering being cornered somewhere small would be hell, and standing in it was a far less welcoming sight. Some beast, talking in a garbled accent caused by it's deformed mouth, and the girl from earlier. The pair were clearly absorbed in their conversation. The way the beast moved and spoke screamed to Maxwell that he was toying with her, up until a certain point where he finally became disinterested. 

The fact that the beast was leaving the tar-girl alone was great, wonderful, fantastic, but the fact it was turning back around was less so. Like hell did he want to come into contact with that thing. Moving as quickly and unnoticeably as he could, Maxwell began to creep out of the alleyway, aiming for the nearest hidey-hole, street or something similar. His hand was clenched tight around the knife, all shouldered tight and body stiff.

 

[7catsinatrenchcoat]

(( Sorry for not keeping an eye on this (still need to get used to watching forums and being active on them again whoops), but I'm going to be camping all through next week! You guys dont really need me to be around to continue the rp which is great, but just figured i'd give a heads-up ^u^ ))

 

[Malhyanth]

@galacticspaceray


The Collector shrugged nonchalantly. He had offered, she had chosen to reject. Their brief liaison had come to an end, and though a part of him was disappointed, she had begun to show she was not nearly as interesting as first thought, so he deemed it best they parted ways at this point. Perhaps, if they were ever to meet again in this parched world, devoid of much other life form, perhaps she'll once again pique his interest. He accepted, quite happily, however, that this may well not come to pass. With a final glance as she disappeared off, and a quick scenting of the air, he too took off in his undulating lope, his long spine flexible, compensating for his partially human, partially canine style of movement.


His back hunched as he continued, a white blur through the streets. He stopped when he reached what appeared to of once been a city quad; there was a decorative hue to the stones below his pads. They were smooth, bluish, like slate. Perhaps slate mixed with concrete to design these swirls and mixing colours. At its center, a water fountain that no longer flowed. He stopped and raised himself to a sit, settling back on his haunches as his nimble, padded fingers worked at his belt to release the extra feathers he had been gifted. He drew them clear of their pouch, and sniffed at them. He had headed in the direction he had noted his prey leave by. He frowned as he smelt them again, mind memorising the patterns they painted on his palate. He secreted them again, and tasted the air, much like a lizard, or snake. The Collector frowned once again, pulling his cowl closer to his head, obscuring his face from the harsh rays of the sun.


The fountain stood, desolate. He approached, and scented around it. There was something that may of once been water in the bottom, but was now a sludgy mess. He placed one claw, apprehensively, into its gross green-brown colour and sniffed. His face said it all! Undrinkable! He wiped the offending smell off his claw against his raggedy cloak. Where had that bird-girl gone? She did not seem like the type to be able to fly long distances. A surprise hunter, someone whom relied on their initial speed, not their stamina, to get them their dinner. Not like he; he was all about the stalking, the hunt, running them down to the ends of the earth and they could run no more, before devouring them, sometimes alive, for his satisfaction and a job well done. He leant in a more human style against the lip of the fountain. It had a basin wide enough that had it been full, he could have paddled in it for hours. It then had a further three tiers at its center. At the tip, a sphere would have gurgled water out, in a cascade to the other levels. A fine piece of architecture and engineering. No more, in this crumbled world. But the Collector could imagine.


As he sat, pondering, he once again pulled out the swirling gold, brown, cream and black feathers. Such intricate designs. He pondered their placement in the broad array that bird-girl had had upon her back. His gargoyle like features wrinkled in pleasure as he thought of what it would feel like to strap her down, pull each pin feather out, one by one, slowly, watching her bleed. He hummed, happily, at the thought, and slowly scratched his scarred stomach. Yes. She had been a most delightful subject to enter his day dreams. A sound above drew his attention. Sparrows, or some such small bird, flit across the rooftops. He frowned, once more, as he watched them tease him. It was getting dark, and they were heading for roost...


The Collector liked the night... it was a perfect time to start his hunt. He drew a feather to his face once more, idly stroking it over the parts of his face visible below his bone mask. It tickled delightfully, and it's smell was intoxicating. He would find her, and he would start here. These houses were somewhat erect in this part of town, the suburbs to his east were protecting them from the worst of the heat, the roaring winds, and the sand that pummelled everything. If she was anywhere, she would be resting in the suburbs, and even if he didn't find her hideaway, the next morning she would fly, and he would spot that expansive set of wings from any rooftop. Yes. He had done well to find this prey bird!!

 

[galacticspaceray]

( @Malhyanth: Ashtar actually has hawk wings that are built for flying over large expanses of land. The only reason why she wasn't was because she hadn't eaten enough to.)


Ashtar didn't sleep well that night. She had gorey nightmares of someone ripping off her limbs and eating them in front of her. After about two hours of sleeping, she woke up in a cold sweat, gasping and crying. She wiped her face and murmured to herself to pull it together.


She sat up and and drank from one of her few water flasks, gulping down the water as if it were liquid gold.


She took deep breaths to calm herself. Then she stood up and looked out the window. It was still deep into the night, and she would leave just before dawn. She might try going back to sleep.