((Logged 2/6/2001)) The Aveh Desert Upon your first step out of Dazil, you find yourself on the edge of Aveh's vast, fearful desert. Hot, dry winds blow thin waves of sand, dusting the skies and searing and stinging your skin with every move. The south of Drazil stands to the north, but the desert seems to expand off infinitely to every direction- , , , , , , and . Contents: Metatron Fukano Kale Jalon Kumori (Gear) Dark Angel (Gear) An Important Sign (Type 'look sign' to read!) Kale croches atop a sand dune, gazes out across the desert. His ears wave in the wind, and his orange eyes seem distant. A large canvas bag is next to him on the dune, sitting half-way open. A cloaked figure appears out of no where, standing behind Kale. It's appearance is somewhat ghostly amidst the desert sands. The hood that covers the person's head is too deep to give any sight of his face, and their arms are crossed on their chest. Yet, the man's voice is familiar. "Hello, Kale. What brings you out here my friend?" The smell of flesh had always drawn the large predator toward the cities, but he'd never entered, aware he was not allowed to... But tonight Fukano had someone with him as he soared in the night sky, his the outline of his white form seeming to glow where his fur and wings catch the moonlight. Tonight he felt energetic, in search of something far more interesting than ether- targets... And there he found two, adjusting his wings to glide toward the two, flapping now and them to keep from losing his altitude. Lithia has connected. And adding to the already luminous form of Fukano is his rider and its numerous robes... long sleeves trailing from the wrists like wings themselves. One gloved hand absently runs down the back of Fukano's neck as it watches the dunes roll by below. "I see them too," it replies to the renewed direction of the hunter's flight. It falls silent as the desert passes, the distance closed with each second without a motion to counteract Fukano's interest. Then, "All right. Fun, but not extended?" Spreading its palms to either side of its legs, straddled across the dragon's back, it could be but feeling the mood of the evening through its hands. Kale glances up at the hooded figure, transulecent second eyelids momentarily flashing over his eyes. "Hey, Jalon." He shrugs at his friends question. "I just needed to get out of the city for a while..." Kale's tail taps the ground. "The desert calls me...walls of concrete get confining, eh? And something strange is in the air, tonight." Kale glance up at the sky, thinking. Jalon nods inside his hood, the movement unseen within the depths of his hood. "Yes. I believe I have come to enjoy the desert, as I am spending much more time here than I did previously. I know the feeling all too well...." Yes, he knew the feeling all too well, for past and current events had shaped him that way. Yes. Fun. Bloodshed perhaps, but death would not taint the sands tonight, for Fukano's rider commanded so. Lucky, lucky little Lambs. But wait, he would not attack yet, instead he would circle the little group like a vulture over a carcass, studying curiously as he rode the heated air that lifted off the sands, his head tilted to one side to let one cunning blue eye survey the 'targets' below him. One with a lot of that soft stuff called cloth to cover all features, the other one of those.... what had his trainers called them - demihumans. Dragon no less? Ah, how ironic. He wondered if he would be more of a challenge to catch... Desert airs whisper at the ears of the rider, its pale hair blending with the robes and soaking in the moonlight. And, apparently, granting more... at the least, there is a brief addition to wind drag as Metatron spreads its senses and then closes them once more as it folds its palms back to Fukano's neck. "The demihuman... Kale," it muses, with not another look down to the colors of the dunes and those who wandered upon them. "I wonder if he is inclined to conversation tonight?" That is only a curiosity to the rider, and not truly a wish to halt... for now, let them both enjoy the evening. Silent winds lift the raven indigo hair, and infiltrate her senses, grains of sand take flight from her feet as she walks, swinging her weapon at her side. So much like a joyous child, content with her newfound freedom and nothing more...it was all she asked for. Approaching the desert city, bathed in the young of night, loathing silver eyes catch slight evidence of others. As she nears, it becomes gradually more apparent untill she can make out faces. "...hello..." Kale 's eyes stray from the sky, despite half-seen things, and flick towrds the newcomer. "Litha? How are you, this night?" Kale stands up and streaches, walking to one edge of the dune and back, with an ear cocked toward the sky. He glances upward occansionally...he couldn't've seen anything...could he? Of course he was aware of the entities in the heavens above, yet Jalon did not show nor mention it. His cloaked figure shifts silently towards Lithia. "Hello, Lithia. What brings you out into the desert at this time of night?" A simple greeting, and the figure shifts again, now looking with his peripheal vision up above. His time in the desert had sharpened his senses, and he was now an ever- aware ghost of the Aveh desert sands. Fukano glances back at his rider with a curious sound between a chirp and a squawk, then looks back to his targets, delighting in a third joining the little group. Yes, this was much better than ether-targets. And probably taste better... At any rate, a quick folding of his wings swept away most of the height in his soaring, snapping open again moments later and angled down to carefully level off his dive, flapping once more when the strain would not snap even the enhanced bones, lowering one hind leg to touch the sands and lower himself to all fours on a nearby dune. Metatron waits for the sands stirred up by Fukano's wings to still before sliding off, an affectionate pat to the dragon's head in praise for the landing. Saying nothing, it but steps to the side to allow the dragon to observe the area further. Lithia opens her mouth to speak and answer Kale, but stops just short...the sight of a dragon had stolen her words, leaving her with only a piculiar expression on her face as she just...stares. Kale glances at Lithia, then follows her gaze. "My...Oh my...." Kale stares up at the flying dragon and rider, and stands motionless, ears flapping. His hidden head turning to look at the descended dragon, Jalon notes Kale's curiosity. Surely he should be worrying about his health at the moment.....The shadowy figure slinks backwards into the shadows of the desert, watching like a hidden ghost. Fukano fairly fluffs up at all the attention on him. Predator tho he is, he had a vain streak in him a mile wide, but not to the point of being a fault. Head held high, he just watched for a long moment before slowly slinking down the dune with all the grace of flowing water, head low, heading straight for Kale and Lithia. "Not Kale," Metatron decides suddenly, holding out a hand palm-down. Its voice does not sound displeased, though, and is still approving of Fukano. Lithia 's glare hardens, not moving and just...staring in a mix of fright and intrigue. what...fright? indeed... Staring at the oncoming vision of draconian doom, Kale's body instictivly reacts...and faints. Fukano does not stop even at Metatron's words. He does, however, train his attention completely on Lithia as his walking stride slowly began to lengthen, wings spread partially to have gliding aid in his straightforeward attack as he picks up speed. Motionless targets were no fun anyway... and this one was proving to be rather boring as well, just standing and staring... Come on, then, run! Metatron watches Fukano calmly, knowing the instincts of predators and not in demand of an instant--and thereby excessive--display of obedience. It rarely does... out here, at least, and not since the first training had been over. For Fukano had learned very, very well. "And how will -you- estimate this, Lithia?..." Metatron is but a silhoutte upon the dune's crest, nearly glowing white in the moonlight. Its gloves hands are by its sides now, relaxed and loosely hidden by the robes. The silver chains gleam like stars. "Can you prove your understanding that things are deeper than running or not?" Jalon merely stands in the shadows, knowing that the glowing....person?..was probably fully aware of his presence. He was near the glowing entity, and had heard her words. It knew Lithia, and he put his faith that she would not allow her..."pet" was it?...to harm her. Throwing caution to the wind, Jalon disappears into the desert. Lithia glances around, though afterwards trains her focus to the dragon. "...who ever is in the shadows, just why..." she trails off, watching the creature stride closer "I never run anymore..." She stands quietly, this, to her, was by far an exceptable answer...who said she had to answer at all? She remains as she had been, solid in her step and holding the scythe loosly, though gripped enough that should she need it, she was ready. Fukano skids abruptly to a stop in front of Lithia, head drawn back, pressed against the vulnerable underside of his neck as it formed that s-curve to protect himself. Prey that would not run was prey that was either stupid or could defend itself and he wasn't about to assume the former. Lightning quick, his foreclaw lashed out at her, aiming to draw blood, maim, or even knock out, but not kill. And that made this all the more difficult, to capture without killing like his instincts told him. Metatron takes a few more steps across the sand dune, until it stands in full view like a blot of white against the black of the sky. The moon stretches shadows long tonight, and throws the already obscured details of the figure into sharp relief. "I'm glad, then," comes the voice that is neither male nor female, calm despite the violence of its companion. Its pale eyes watch Fukano as much as they do Lithia, curious for the reactions of them both. Defense... good. Overarrogance was a deadly thing indeed, and it was good to see that Fukano was also being cautious against an unknown opponent. Lithia frowns, memories of the sewers flow through her eyes to try and find the best way to treat this situation. She moves the staff of the scythe to a higher position, attempting to block the strike though fails to move swiftly enough, catching claw to flesh and drawing blood from her bicep. She winces at te miserable sting, but does not lose focus. Aboutfacing, sliding her hands to the base of the staff she allows ether to gather and channel into the scythe, fizzling like dark electricity around the blade. Fukano backs off and pauses for a moment, gaze on the ether-charged scythe, replanning his attack to avoid getting himself gutted. He was a large target, after all, and that blade looked sharp. Finally, after a breath's time, he turned broadside to her, wing, thick with feathers and less likely to be fatal if hit, covering his flank as his tail snapped out, whiplike, at the handle of the scythe, trying to disarm her before he got too involved in capturing. Good... a disarming manuever. Metatron nods to itself slightly, watching the confrontation play out. As much as it might want to speak with Lithia--and how rarely it chose these sorts of meetings--it was... not capable of forcing away predators and a hunting nature. For that, too, was Life. And it was far too soon into this evening underneath the desert moon for Metatron to call to Lithia, and query. Let it play out as it would. And across the sands and below the dunes, shadows stretch long into stranger shapes... Lithia , having remained only in warning, had not struck and so narrowly manages to hang onto the scythe...though at the expense of it flying downwards and nearly strikeing her own legs. Slight balance now sacrificed, she pivots on her foot, swinging both herself and the blade around. She's never liked the idea of fighting with animals...humans, yes...but she...doesn't care much for her own race. But to harm an animal of any kind truly bothered her....causing her to decide to defend herself, but try to do no more. If a dragon could have an expression, utter frustration etched itself on Fukano's 'face'. It was his nature to hunt the young, the weak, or the dying... not the strong that could defend themselves and strike back. Having not been directly ordered to attack Lithia wasn't helping his wavering resolve, he only kept at it to not disapoint the one watching over him. With a snort, his head snapped foreward, grabbing the scythe's staff between her hands in his jaws, looking up at her in an oddly human look of irritation. Being raised and trained by man had not left him untouched, after all. "All right..." That was close enough. For both of them... "My greatest pardons," Metatron adds, warmth tinging its voice at last in a cross between bemusement and an apology. It jogs lightly down the dune, the robes trailing down behind it like the tail of a comet as it lands without more than a slight bowing of the shoulders to absorb impact at the last jump down to level sands. Walking towards the two of them, it extends a hand out to Fukano to signal its pleasure. Lithia was not a target requiring pinning past the initial action, and to continue would be... rude, on the same delicate as that which allowed Fukano to have engaged the young woman. "Are you all right?" Meaning them both, but a slight softening of the voice in almost parental care. To... both? Lithia frowns as the scythe is snatched from her hands, steel-toned eyes only hardened as she looked to the near horizon, watching another figure enter. "..." she utters no words, though tilts her head a little, keeping her focus on the dragon still. "...who...or what, are you?" she glances at Metatron...making little effort to even be pleasant, unfortunatly. Smugly the scythe is dropped as Fukano sat back on his haunches to yawn, then groom the fur of his chest like a cat would, his tail settling about his legs. If his 'master' was happy, then so was he. Frustrated at the lack of a kill, perhaps, but his need for a flight and a hunt was satiated for now. He'd probably go slaughter a few of the larger desert creatures for a meal after this, but for now he just sits at Metatron's side like an obediant puppy. "We'll find something else in the desert that won't be missed," Metatron affirms to Fukano, running a gloved hand over his back in praise. After restraint could come a time without. And the desert was a blessing for its space and ease of flight. "You've been hurt," it notes to Lithia, glancing at the claw wound from Fukano's first strike. The game had found its close, and it was time to tidy the field before leaving. Metatron checks Fukano in routine care, and then extends a hand out to Lithia politely. "Would you like your answer, or does it suit you more to feel as if you had been attacked without provocation?" Lithia frowns, dignity had already drifted away with the winds. She simply stares down at the extended hand, though eventually does take it. "...attacked without provocation? Just what did I do? Who are you?" several other questions swamped her mind, but...all in due time, after all, one couldn't expect to ramble off a thousand things at once, and yet still hold the other beings attention. The glow of Healing is the initial answer from Metatron--the white light which rises like the moon under mist also cools with its contact... seeping from the gloved hand which but holds Lithia's own gently, giving no pressure to the grip. "I am someone who is closer than though, and further than seen," it replies at last. "Truly, you did nothing to merit an attack... from us, at least. At this hour." Those eyes, pale green as the heart of growing things in spring, almost smile to Lithia though the demimask hides the expression of the lips. "And so I must apologize if you were worried. But it was an experience for us all." A silence, now--conversation from this one flows as if to music, with halts and beats that almost beg for another strain to fill the space in counterpoint. "And you already know about experiences. So this is not the first for you..." Lithia blinks, pulling back...she's never been very aware of ether, not knowing this being was extending aid. She examines the limbs, it seemed well enough...better then it had been before, perhaps. "...I don't worry...it's pointless..." such a young and bitter hypocrite, really. Though, soon enough, curiousity manages to hold a firm grasp over her, compelling a question to spill forth anyways. "...what do you mean, 'I already know about expiriences?'" By answer again, Metatron uses its hand. Half-kneeling to take a palmful of sand, its pale hair tumbles about its shoulders like a cloud. The thin chains glisten in contrast to the ivory... such slight things those links are. Perhaps. And straightening, Metatron holds out the miniature dune cupped within its hand. "Tell me, then..." And it opens the fingers and tilts down the wrist, letting the grains trickle away upon the wind as the desert might expose bones buried to the air at last. "Do you know yet the answer to the pearl? From wastelands and the forgotten and the unnoticed does it begin..." It turns its hand down, and the sands are gone. With only a glance of its eyes to Lithia once more--is that a faint smile, or a faint look of tears--Metatron turns back to Fukano and murmers, "It's time to go now..." Lithia furrows her brow, confused if nothing else. "...I don't understand..." her words are muttered, soft-spoken as though it was something she despised to admit. Even now, she did not know who this being was, or what it was doing....or even what it wanted. Was there really a purpose? A need for such rising questions? One could only judge by their opinions... Still as the crisp plant, leaves dried and dancing with the breeze, Lithia stands in silence just the same, making no attempt to stop the being, her mind occupied by unravelling her current confusion.