K'nahli

Wh.. when did you.. -THROWS UP HIS ARMS.- For a moment I was genuinely wondering why you had, figuratively, eaten your own arms.... and then my stupidity dawned upon me...

((OOC Note: *Takes another turn* I hope its okay! ^^) A dark shadow crossed over the Wailer's features as he watched S'imba struggle with the deeply-embedded arrow that viciously protruded from his leg. The arrow, unlike the one used to slay the carriage driver, was closer in size to that of a standard one used by people. It's precisely crafted tip was uncommonly thin but greater in length so that that wound caused was still more damaging than was typical of a standard arrow, while not being so large as to risk shattering the bone entirely. Yes, this was an arrow made explicitly for maiming, just like S'imba had been. It's sharpened head was thinly coated with a dark layer of crimson that streaked neatly across it's curvature, leaving only a few slivers of exposed steel to glow dimly in the fading light that was quickly receding behind the encroaching shadow of storm clouds above. A thin and dark trail sourcing from the arrow head laced back along the arrow's elongated, wooden shaft in narrow meanders to disappear into S'imba's blood-soaked flesh before reappearing once again on the far side, extending out a fair distance and stopping shortly before where the fletchlings sleekly, sloped into the arrow. The wound was truly horrendous to behold, even after having being apparently tended to prior to his arrival here, possibly by the Ixali themselves, Wilkin thought. But the pain... the pain that it must have sanctioned upon the male seemed hardly imaginable, even before S'imba rashly proceeded to draw it out of himself with a mighty tug. A short requiem composed from the horrific melody of gore and impending torment rang through the air as the arrow's entire length was reluctantly released from it's fleshy prison, tossing the miqo'te into a ravaging pit of anguish as he was left rolling across the water-logged soil weakly as agonized wails hoarsely poured from this throat while his nerves and receptors fired wildly and angrily in protest against his actions. Seeing someone, anyone, being reduced to such a state was always such a painful sight to Wilkin - even considering that it was not something unfamiliar to the weathered fighter. Many a times he had to play the part of the bearer of terrible news, to confront worried mothers and young widows whom, until moments prior, thought that their sons and husbands still yet walked tall, alive and even well. Unfortunately, in these troubled times it was not a duty that was seldom stumbled upon and, to an extent, one does eventually harden to the tragedy and cruelty that the world has to offer it's inhabitants, but no-one ever becomes totally immune; especially not this particular highlander of whom was uncommonly, tender-hearted in nature. His chapped lips parted as he struggled to force out a dry voice, painful though it would have been, to somehow encourage the male. "A chance will present itself" he wanted to say. "Remain strong for when the moment comes"; but somehow, those words felt shallow as he watched the miqo'te writhe in pain from the horrendous wound that tortured his senses and likely drove his mind to the brink of collapse. The Wailer could only take his glance away from him. He could not escape the young male's pained cries and whimpers, but directly watching yet another soul fall prey to the demonic poison that was hopelessness was something which he felt that he was losing the ability to endure. Even he, a man once regarded for his humble optimism, would have long since embraced the opportunity of death.

I was kind of inspired to take these because of our RP, where our tribe has finally migrated from Sagolii to Eastern Thanalan but I guess to also make the new set I finally decided to boldly glamour somewhat official, haha ; I do like it and it's more suitable than it previously would have been in the old and significantly warmer, desert climate, but it's still a bit fancy and expensive for a tribal look I suppose, no matter how much I'd like to say "it was a gift" or "she got it one time in Ul'dah", haha >w<

Kill me now so I can find such a heaven ;w; -says the predominantly, dog person.

K'nahli subtly leaned backward as K'iara suddenly invaded both girls' personal space by placing herself between them. Her eyes quickly darted away to the side however, to avoid the fiery, red-head's detecting gaze as she addressed the two of them with a suspicious interest. It was immediately obvious from her sudden interjection that she had picked up on the odd vibe that had been cast down between the girls despite having, presumably, heard nothing - though K'nahli would simply treat it as though she were mistaken. Denial was her forté after all. "No such things will taint Azeyma's first deliverance" K'nahli responded coolly as K'iara turned to walk away, disappearing almost as quickly as she had appeared. The archer's voice was soft with an almost natural tone, but like her expression, it was absent of emotion. "I'll be right along behind you" she continued with the same voice before picking up her quiver and following at a safe distance within the palely-cast shade of K'iara's, nimble shadow without paying any further acknowledgement to the silent K'mih. OOC Note:

I've heard you use that comparison before but only now am I thinking that we have have the very same voice in mind, haha (>w<)

fite me irl u wot m8 Hahaha... very nice screen.

I think those really, high-pitced, female Lalafel battle cries are really funny actually. I used to enjoy having a lala tank on my team for that reason; it almost made me feel as safe as having a Roegadyn Paladin protecting us. I guess some people can have a bad experience with only a partial sampling of the voices; I know Clover had. Personally though, my voices were perfect for my two characters throughout so I am glad to not have shared the negative experience. Whenever I am in Fates though, I sometimes hear the most horrible and manly battle cries from young, female characters that are "seemingly" made to appear cute and it's so annoyingly ill-fitting to the point that I nearly want to tell them so, ahah ; (Obviously I would never...) I think the same applies to male miqo'te who have very deep, and manly voices when they are made to look young or any male character who simply have really annoying voices in general(regardless of their appearance). ...OH, AND MALE LALAS...... they have a few that drive me up the wall.. *rants*

A cloak would be really cool for my hyur actually. I'm the kind of person who has a 'rainy/cold weather' set for when the weather turns or when I am in Coerthas, so a cloak would be rather nice addition. For K'nahli... I may have to think on it some more, but for now I'd like some really, nice, archer arm wear. Like where one arm is well protected with a full leather sleeve and guard while the other is mostly exposed.

I don't like how you made Yoshi out to be a villain in this ;w;

"You do not need my permission for such a thing. If you wish to join the hunt then do so" K'nahli replied bluntly as she continued putting away the remainder of her belongings. The remaining journey that had taken place between Forgotten Springs and their current residence in Eastern Thanalan had been another one of isolation - though her bitterness seemed to have quelled notably, not that it would likely have been noticed by anyone other than herself given her limited interaction. Regardless, K'mih was greeted with little other than her taller sister's back, a slender form whose skin glowed dimly in the fleeting light that passed through the tent's entrance, as she gave her answer. Though it was not intentionally turned to her young sister in a symbol of either defiance or perhaps, retreat, no effort was truly made to so much as even look at K'mih directly as she spoke. The nature of her upset in all manners had dwindled in recent days luckily, though it had not been so easily resolved either, not through such blatant avoidance could she really hope for much more than that anyways. For K'nahli, K'mih's presence was still a reminder of how she was none other than the "less favourable" sister. A title she had all but earned for herself with the way she had chosen to behave in post-calamitic years. A self-absorbed notion to be sure, but certainly no shier from the truth. "I must needs inspect my arrows before the hunt. Is there anything else?" K'nahli asked coolly as she placed the final box down near the base of her bedding with an audible thump. With little hesitation she finally turned to face her younger sister, having concluded with her current activity. K'nahli's expression felt somehow dangerous with the way she looked at the younger miqo'te so lifelessly. While she wasn't quite frowning at her sister, merely the way her lids hung low over her piercing eyes as she watched the pink-haired miqo'te with a faint shadow of disinterest revealed that there was still no resolve to the strange and, to K'mih, untold feelings that her older sibling harboured toward her. The atmosphere in the tent was undoubtedly chilling, far beyond that of the simple shift in climates, dramatic as it had been for the miqo'te tribe - and it all radiated from the blue-haired girl who now looked down upon her sister not with a familiar loving affection and the intent to protect, but with a contemptuous glower that eagerly awaited the chance to escape the miqo'te's company.

I have a character that I have never 'really' RP'd that I had plans to be a really successful bounty hunter. I never, for a long time, thought that I'd actually try to RP him again but I must admit I am curious to hear about your plans for such a thing. He wouldn't have any specific knowledge or motives lying around Ishgard or it's exiles but noteworthy coin is all the motive he needs.

Wilkin nodded weakly with the same soft, yet shallow smile as before. Though speaking alone had grown to be a tiresome task in his weakened state, he moved once again to continue chatting idly to the young girl and perhaps the others - would they allow it - in the dim hopes that he may offer some, light boost of morale to them in their bleak situation. Twelve knows that even he might have appreciated such a gesture a great deal more than that of the scene of despair and hopelessness that had greeted him upon his own arrival here days prior. As his gaze slowly flitted back to meet with the girl, they were quickly stolen away by the male miqo'te's interjection. Though it could not be said that anyone found even a remote comfort in their current predicament, it could have been argued that the male newcomer was the least content with what had befallen him. For Wilkin, it had been easy to tell even from a distance when they were merely approaching, that this particular character was a true fighter. He would not so easily accept such a lifestyle, one of oppression, torment and unconditional servitude to the cruel and unforgiving scum that were the Ixali beast tribe. His faded expression was crossed with a deepening shadow of concern as the miqo'te quickly began fiddling at his binds, slowly but surely slicing at them with what he presumed was some sort of small tool or weapon that he had possibly managed to conceal. His dried and sorely, chapped lips quickly parted to speak up in protest but the young female had, in fact, beaten him to the task, evidently sharing the same concerns as he himself harboured. His pale, amber eyes stayed with Siha as she did her best to calmly subdue her acquaintance with her wise insight and for a short while after before he, himself, finally spoke up and added his own piece. "S'imba... was it? You would do well to heed S..Siha's words. Your spirit is admirable, but know that spirit alone will not ensure your liberty" The Wailer shuffled lightly on the spot after saying this as he inched slightly further to more easily display himself to the male from behind Siha, who had been planted between them both. "In fact... it will more likely equate... to the torment, if not not death... of not just you, but your com-panions here.." Wilkin added plainly as he discreetly flicked his eyes toward Siha in emphasis. Though his fatigued eyes were near-lifeless in appearance, there was a distinct determination to be found within them as he pleaded to the male's better judgement. He struggled valiantly to maintain his stare as heavy lids trembled ceaselessly like the fragile leaf litter in a morning's breeze. Each drawn out blink he succumbed to threatened him with the ever-tempting luxury of sleep, an act that the Ixali deemed punishable outside of the dark hours when their activity, too, was reduced. Regardless, he found enough residue of inner strength to at least maintain his stare and somewhat diminish his previously, apparent appearance of weakness while we spoke. Possibly yet another futile attempt, but it was certainly better than nothing. "Forgive me for being so blunt but t'is not a situation that allows for much softness.... but you must be strong... and see through to wisdom before acting on your desires. Realise quickly that you alone have the potential to save lives here, lad... pray do not so easily relinquish such an opp-ortunity.."

so is this the level of shenanigans that go on when I'm not looking? I thought he was wearing the lower half of a wedding dress(I was looking at it on my phone).

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Ohhhh... where, oh where, oh where is K'rahto? Haha, you reminded me of this:

K'nahli's gaze flicked over to K'iara as she hurried her way past her and took refuge behind a nearby cart. Had she not noted her interaction with K'ile moments earlier then she may have been suspicious of her presence there, but for now she decided it best to ignore it. Instead, her eyes averted back to the commotion that had now been occurring between K'ile Tia and her father. Her stare widened once again as she witnessed a behaviour from her father that was almost totally alien to the personality of the man she thought she knew.... or perhaps, maybe it wasn't that unusual. Could it simply be that maybe she had unconsciously allowed her earlier memories to fade over the course of the past five years? It certainly would have explained a number of other things too - and despite that tingling feeling of spite and anger that continued to burn at the pit of her stomach, the girl couldn't help but hope that it really was in her father's nature to have such a playful side in him. Though, better yet, this only just proved it. K'rahto, or rather K'iara, was mistaken. K'ile may be behaving a little competitively right now, but there was simply no way that he had plans to challenge anyone. That wasn't in K'ile's nature. While there was no question that the two weren't the best of friends at any point that she can remember, K'ile would not dare to seek a title that he had no pleasure in obtaining beyond besting her father in combat. Once again, a thought that bore the girl a light sense of comfort, though one that was deeply subdued by more prominent and powerful concerns that never failed to escape her mind for very long. K'nahli gingerly crossed one of her arms across her stomach to loosely grip the other's elbow as she continued to watch the scene noisily taking place ahead of her. A feeling of doubt once again made it's presence known with the trickling sensation of a running droplet, slowly creeping it's way down from the base of her neck along the youth's, slender back. If she had the nerve to approach him now, how would he behave? Would it match a reaction he'd likely give to K'mih under the same circumstances? The girl's brow furrowed ever so slightly in thought as she pondered the question. After all, wouldn't a good humoured reaction like that matter more than the one from when his mood was soured on their final day before departing? K'nahli blinked slowly as a wistful look crossed her features. Her tensed posture began to soften as she withdrew deeper into her thoughts. Watching her father with such conflicting emotions was a tiring task and yet tearing her eyes away from him would do her no favours. She didn't understand what she was supposed to feel, what she even wanted to feel. Trying to bring about her own happiness and satisfaction through any kind of reasoning just didn't feel sincere enough to her. Succumbing to that would only feel like she were trying to make things easier on herself - but even so, wouldn't that be okay? The blue-haired girl continued to watch the males from a distance that felt too far away to ever be noticed but close enough that she need only have a fleeting thought of positivity to take a chance and for once assume that perhaps she was wrong. "....." Another slow blink announced the beginning of a new thought and a decision made. The huntress's rear leg slowly grew weightless as it prepared to take a reluctant, single step forward, the girl's chin turning up decisively as her mind had all but been made up....... that was, until, a familiar yet grossly, undesired voice suddenly forced it's way into her skull. "K'nahli... why don't we bathe with them too?" It was the last voice that the girl wanted to hear at this moment. It's softness grated on her nerves as though it were a shard of shale rock grinding against the fragile tissue that lined the inside of her ears... and the sweet affection that coated every syllable that slipped past the young girl's, soft lips left the most bitter of tastes in K'nahli's mouth. She struggled hard not to frown too deeply but preventing it entirely was an impossibility. Her skin began to crawl with disgust and loathing as nothing short of negative thoughts emerged from every corner of her mind like burrowed insects forced out of hiding by an unsuspected disturbance. The unique vibrance that was key to the girl's piercing glare grew even more fervent as her lips parted with an irritated quiver, her words taking only a second to force their way out over her moistened lips without restraint. "If you want to bathe then go do so by yourself." The coldness of her response was powerful enough to overcome even the sweltering heat of the desert climate as it immediately killed off any warmth that was there for K'mih to find in the atmosphere between them. The words themselves came almost too quickly given the unexpectedness of K'mih's presence, almost as if they had been rehearsed and delivered prematurely by an eager mind - and though none of that were true, it still only emphasised on the sudden and great distance that had stretched out between the two siblings in that moment. K'nahli had been too concerned with loathing the situation as a whole and plainly avoiding all contact that she hadn't even considered what she'd say should a situation like this arise - and yet her mind formulated one so quickly and easily. Her defence mechanism, the wall built up around herself for the past five years was quite the formidable foe it would seem, once again proving itself worthy of preserving the 'present K'nahli' and slowly destroying any hope's for a future one. Despite K'nahli's prior vigilance, the younger sister had approached from an angle that had left her out of the older's vision up to the moment she spoke, and so did she continue to remain. K'nahli, stubborn as she was in her ways, continued to face out ahead of herself toward the two male's that were indeed becoming uncomfortably close with each other. Under normal circumstances, the girl might have blushed heavily, embarrassed by her father's absurd behaviour with not just another person, but with another male. Now, however, she struggled to pay much focus to it and merely delivered little beyond a displeased squint upon beholding it. Comfort abandoned her and instead a crawling feeling consumed the girl as she eagerly awaited K'mih's departure. She didn't want to be near something so precious and perfect right now. It's funny that it only crossed her mind now; that K'nahli must seem so despisable by contrast when having been around her sister.

The rowdiness from the group occupying the bath was increasing with every second that passed - and their energy was pressing lightly into K'nahli's nerves, her envy. It was becoming more and more difficult for her to ignore their innocent cries of joy as they all frolicked so happily together in the water, completely worry-free in the tribe's earned period of rest. How she envied them. How she wished she could have nothing other than a physical injury to worry her like so many others had. They were so much more bearable when compared against what her own mind liked to torture her with. Her mind... it was truly her own worst enemy. She could seldom understand it's irrationality and yet it always took such a strong effect on her no matter how much she attempted to reason with it. She knew one thing, but still thought another. It was during this period of thought and because of it, that she was unprepared. Because of her own self-loathing, that even K'luha's loud shout that sought to disrupt the Sagolii's entire eco-system didn't garner enough of her attention - and therefore, failed to see it coming. *~SPLASH~* The peculiar, yet unseen orb of water that had been intentionally targeted for the blue-haired girl crashed in to the side of her head so suddenly that the huntress couldn't help but let slip a very uncommon and girly gasp of surprise. Her maroon eyes were reminiscent of the moon when in full resplendence as they immediately shot open the second the water had engulfed her and glistened greatly as Azeyma's rays caught against the droplets that hung loosely from the dark lashes which framed the tops of her eyes. The girl's full and wide-eyed gaze was cast absently before her, lingering for a but a few moments in total shock. Her hair had darkened tremendously as it had quickly become saturated with water and left numerous, dark clumps of hair sticking thinly to the sides of her face and forehead, with a few peeking just low enough to enter the summit of her vision. Without even needing to look at herself, K'nahli could quickly tell that the water had drenched her thoroughly and swamped her as far down as her knees. The girl slowly, with a motion of reluctance, brought her arms which had been thrown out away from the sides of her body, before her to take her first, official inspection of the damage. Her lips began to quiver subtly with incredulity as the cooling sensation that had washed over her quickly grew tepid in the direct light and began to seep deep into her skin with an unwelcomed comfort. Several blinks forced their way over a vibrant gaze of sheer disbelief before, at last.... the girl escaped her surprise and slowly transformed into a familiar figure that first announced itself with a deeply drawn frown and a piercingly, fearsome glare. "K'LUHA, YOU IDIOT!!!" the girl screamed over to her childish aunt angrily as she delivered a contemptuous stare in the older miqo'te's direction. A light flush occupied her expression though her anger would surely have little effect on the woman. What other reaction could have been expected from the girl? This was exactly what she wanted! For this reason precisely, K'nahli didn't even wait long enough to see if her aunt would respond before returning to inspect herself once again with a disgruntled hiss through her teeth. "Ugh.." she groaned silently as she examined her drenched clothes with disdain. She flicked her arms a few times in an attempt to shake free the excess water though it was to no avail. She'd have to spend a few hours in these soggy clothes before Azeyma would relieve her of this plight. The girl sighed bitterly as she submitted to a posture of defeat. While once upon a time she may have been just as guilty of such behaviour that her aunt so eagerly demonstrated, she was not in the mood for such jokes now. Rubbing the excess water from her lashes the girl gave a modest shake of her head. She stopped, however, as something at the corner of her eye begged for her attention; and after that whole scenario, she couldn't afford to not be vigilante of her fellow tribeskin. Her eyes searched sideward as the mysterious, speeding figure which had caught her attention dashed it's way toward the oasis. ".....?" K'yohko suddenly launched himself into the air, gaining an impressive height before coming crashing down into a deep section of the water once against, drowning all of the other occupants in the massive wave created from his entry. K'nahli's gaze grew a little wider once again with interest as she studied her father carefully as he re-emerged from the water. This was so.... not K'yohko. At least it hadn't been a side of him she had recognised for quite some time. She didn't believe such playfulness still existed in him. Slowly guiding her hand upward to mop the soaked bangs further away from her eyes, the oldest daughter watched her father carefully for a long moment in which she seemed to have briefly forgotten all of the grievances she retained within her heart for the nuhn. If not for those things... she might have been happy to see him like this. No, she would have been. Perhaps even, to some extent, she was even now... she just had trouble admitting it so openly to herself. K'nahli drew her gaze away once again, staring at nowhere in particular in the sand as she searched her thoughts with a discontented look on her face.

There was a strength and meaning behind Kiht's words for she remained the only unbiased member of the party. From the moment she began speaking, her contradictory opinion was made blindly apparent and directed the blonde hyur's gaze toward her with an unanticipated apprehension. For Andre, it was uncomfortable listening to her words and reasoning. The miqo'te, she was undoubtedly right in a sense. Though his own tracking skills were limited and unrefined, he was sure that the Adder, no matter how hasty, would never make it back in time to pick up on the fleeting trail of the Ixali hoarde. ("That's not the point...") his unheard thoughts spat at the miqo'te as she continued to speak, his gaze turning on her with a look of anxiety that calmly pleaded for her not to continue with her words. Unfortunately for the Andre, his silent attempt to dissuade her either went unnoticed or blatantly ignored. "Kiht..." he finally spoke as she had concluded with saying her piece. His voice was low as it sought a medium between conveying a point to Kiht and keeping his concerns discreet from Clover, though it's tone was saturated with a thick tone of disapproval. Having his face turned away from the hyur girl he felt safe in offering miqo'te a particular look. One that told her to simply ignore fact and accept what Clover had already accepted herself. It was true that the Adders would likely learn of the assault, regardless of Clover's aid, before the storm ceased and there was a more decent chance of the captives being recovered, but the intention of the three warrior's was ultimately to rescue civilians - even if it came at their own expense. Clover was not a warrior. She was not like them. Risking Clov-... another civilian for the mild chance that she might prove of some use was counterproductive to their cause. It was unfeasible... it was... aDfZ6STAfqA

Wounds heal with time and so too do scars fade. It had been four days. K'nahli had assured herself before laying her head down to rest on the night they had begun their departure that she would soon forget all and get on with everything else that was happening within their lives, the more pressing matters that concerned the tribe as a whole rather than just herself - as was one of her loathsome tendencies. Time, however, can be just as unforgiving as it can be be an effective healer of minds. Petty as she wanted to convince herself that her emotions at the time had been, they had only fermented into something more bitter that slowly drew through her like a thickening poison. She became more angry, more aspiring for the solitude she had - luckily - so far succeeded in claiming for herself for the majority of the trip. Very few words had been exchanged with her kin and more than likely, even if there was anyone to show any concern toward this particular girl's mood, they would never discern it from her usual brooding nature. She was, after all, K'yohko's firstborn child. The warmth of Azeyma seemed less harsh in the upper reaches of Sagolii as it landed upon the pale, exposed portions of her skin with a less-than-common sensation of comfort. Or perhaps it was just in this particular spot where the U tribe had taken up residence. K'nahli's gaze wandered around herself, carrying a potent sharpness beneath her lowered brow as she studied the sons and daughters of the Drake tribe from the distance carefully. It didn't take long for her to decide on her personal impression of them. She loathed their chosen lifestyle. Convenience and luxury had intentionally been made so readily available to them and yet they appeared to be more than content with that fact. It was disturbing. Had they no pride in their ancestors' culture? Their own heritage? K'nahli blinked slowly, almost pompously, as an expression to her own disappointment. No doubt they had grown weaker as a result. Even Azeyma's ferocity had seemed to have grown weaker to spare them the burden of excessive heat, at least by Hipparion standards. It was a pity. Before arriving here she had set her mind on exploring and perhaps seeking out their warriors to learn something, anything from their ways. But now it was clear that there was nothing that they could offer her to earn her genuine interest. Their lifestyle was weak and shameless. With a near-inaudible grunt of dissatisfaction, the girl's eyes briefly skimmed back over to the famous U tribe springs, a glorious yet modest body of azure that lay a moderate distance away from herself as it's refreshing sounds alongside the happy chirps of it's many participants once again reclaimed her focus. A thin sheet of brilliant, white light graciously lain down by the sun was iced across it's rippling surface and glistened magnificently as the water ceaselessly shifted and rolled with every small movement made by the happy miqo'te that bathed within. A light band of large trees, decorated with massive, lush green leaves stood tall out of the golden sands that gently slipped below the surface of the water's edge and encircled the spring at a respectful distance, with a few congregating more thickly in one corner and arching low enough to allow their foliage to take a modest sip of the refreshingly, cool water that resided below their emerald-tinted shade. In the centre lay a large boulder, bleached almost entirely white by the sun's rays and revealing grainy traces of minerals which shimmered dimly in the light that caught them. The boulder's summit had been covered with a thick bedding of shrubbery and moss that hung lazily down over the decorative rock's smooth descending edges that provided a comfortable rest for any to lay their back against. For the briefest of moment's, the girl's expression softened mildly. The sound of it's splashing was unlike any that she had ever heard before. Nothing that could be compared against the measly sounds one would hear bouncing uncomfortably against the containers which they would drink from. No, the sounds of the spring were much more different and unique, like a soft yet inconsistent melody that seduced all into looking it's way to earn their immediate affection. Never had she bathed in such a way and without knowing of how it would even feel like, it seemed oddly alluring to the girl, far beyond the mere curiosity that it naturally bestowed upon her as it had with many of her kin. It's unparalleled beauty stabbed at her inner temptations incessantly as she silently fought to subdue them. The gentle sounds of it's trickling and splashing reverberated so loudly within her head, as though it were calling for her to explore it's joys and comforts that were yet unknown to her and escape all other thought. ".........." With a hesitant jerk of her head, however, the girl finally managed to tear her gaze away from the springs. Such thoughts were to be hidden away, even to herself, beneath her own pride. An unusual pride that seemed to have falsely grown more prominent in recent days alongside her anger and frustrations. Continuing to ignore the existence of her curiosities and innocent desires, the maroon-eyed huntress remained idle amidst the bustling activity of her tribekin whom had all involved themselves with their own individual tasks and leisures. She had distanced herself just enough so as to hopefully not be picked up on to aid with any idle and unimportant activity by anyone nearby, but also not so far that she stood out to any who would happen to survey the distance. Wearing a discontented expression, the girl gripped the elbow of the arm that hung loosely by her side as she loitered around without apparent intent. The reality of her own situation, her own choice of lifestyle following the calamity, was suddenly becoming very clear to the girl. The thought of such a scenario, in truth, had always known to her - it's presence a niggling fear that hid away in a dark corner at the back of her mind should anything ever happen; though now that something finally had happened, as disproportionate as it had been to her idea of "anything", it had struck a painful chord with the girl. Without K'mih to talk to and with K'rahto behaving oddly, she had nowhere to lay her trust and comfort. Four days of thinking had caused her enough damage. She couldn't stand the thought of isolating herself further to leave herself alone to such thoughts again. She needed a distraction. For the first time in a long time, K'nahli actually wished she had made more of an effort. Had worked harder so that maybe, at a time like this, she would have someone else to turn to. She wished that she had more friends.

Andre's icy, blue eyes flicked back to Clover briefly as the inevitable happened and the girl ignored his lack of concern for such a wound. The corners of his mouth seemed to lift ever-so subtly into an expression far too light to be called a smile before, defeated, he returned his gaze to Xydane and the miqo'te "Kiht". His eyes narrowed slighty as he tried to tune in to their converstion, but he soon discovered that was unable to keep his thoughts from wandering as he gazed upon the blood-soaked form of Xydane. Everything else seemed to descend from importance, even the tingling and mild burning-sensation that seeped into his wound as the young girl worked to restore him to good health. Andre's expression gradually narrowed with suspicion as a question finally formed in his head, though as he turned to face the target of his query - Clover Blake - he discovered that she had already turned her attention back away from him and interjected into the ongoing exchange between the other two before it had the chance to be posed. She wanted to go with them. "No." His answer was abrupt and quickly given. His grip around the sword that had been given to him, presumably by Xydane, tightened as he took his glance down upon it, escaping from his previous, unspoken concerns for the moment. "Do not misunderstand me, Clover, I have no doubt that you would have your uses but that is far from the point. I will take you as far as Treespeak Stables and the Wailers can escort you the rest of the way back to Gridania" Andre elaborated while also bringing knowledge to the fact that he, himself, would be joining the other two as soon as possible, provided he could make it back in time before the trail was lost. "We need you to alert the Adder" he added with a soft smile while placing a hand on the girl's small shoulder. The hyur was a little too kind with his words than he probably should have been but at the very least he gave her a role, an objective that had an importance of it's own. Surely she would understand?

The Wailer's gaze was slowly drawn back to his side as he met with Siha's youthful eyes. Even while having never met her before, he could quickly tell that the girl's fragile stare had been robbed of some of its luster, a side effect of the fear and anxiety that such a situation had no doubt brought down upon her and her companions. Still watching her, the Wailer blinked hard in thought before forcing himself to offer the girl an unusual smile - one that did not belong to such a hellish setting. "It may have been a couple of days for me... the others..... some a little longer, some shorter.." he answered hoarsely. It was probably clear to the girl that the Wailer was merely trying to offer her what little comfort he could with such small gestures - his smile, choice of words - though both his pained voice and the unconcealed utterances of truth that he insisted not be kept from his new acquaintance likely quelled much of such efforts. "I'd offer you my hand but sadly our hosts are not too fond of such formalities..." the Wailer spoke again while offering Siha a weak attempt at a silly grin; his efforts continuing regardless of how effective they may have initially not proven with the young miqo'te. His expression was fatigued and weak, his attitude genuine though somehow feeling without true purpose. Simply being alive seemed to be a tiring task to this particular male. "...Wilkin Blackdale.."

((OOC Note: )) Seeing Clover once again and appearing apparently unharmed gratified the male with an overwhelming sense of relief. His sharp gaze quickly softened, his determined expression suddenly turning light as his eyes gently rolled over the girl’s familiar form to wholly confirm her well-being. The knotted sensation that choked at his stomach released so suddenly that the relief itself could almost have been said to have been physically felt as it lightly unfurled from within his core and rolled all the way along until it reached his extremities, canvassing his entire body with a tender warmth. The hyur was almost left feeling guilty as he was rendered with a momentary sense of complete placidity while he basked in the warming knowledge that his beloved friend was indeed out of harm’s way. "..Clover" he breathed lightly as his expression seemed to briefly lose all memory of the pain that afflicted him. Seemingly sharing the sentiment, Clover drew near to him, stopping a short distance before him as she and he both gazed deeply into the other’s eyes in a moment’s silence, their silent exchange of stares serving as mutual understanding of the other’s thoughts. A soft, fleeting smile made a brief appearance across the blonde male’s expression before it was quickly defeated by a reminding grimace of discomfort that forced it’s way into the male’s features. It was perhaps because of this that Clover, too, suddenly returned to reality and suddenly spoke again. "Please let me see your wounds," Her voice was eager and carried a distinct tone of anxiety - though even in spite of it’s urgency, it failed to lose that familiar softness that so often managed to offer a strange comfort despite all else. Andre blinked hesitantly as though her words had been that of another tongue. That’s right, she was capable of that, wasn’t she? After having being lost in a sea of thought within that short space of time, he had almost completely forgotten about that side of her - the side that had previously saved him from a very similar situation in the not-so-distant past. He watched the girl closely, his cooling, blue gaze continuing to draw it's focus upon her emerald eyes for a couple of seconds longer before, at last, it quickly searched for the one visible wound that continued to weep small but persistent tears of crimson out from over the tear in his sleeve which had been sullied by the soil. Looking at it now almost made it seem more painful than it had previously felt, though regardless, he resisted against wincing any further and slowly returned to look back to the girl once again. "Ah… it’s really nothing, it looks much worse than it truly is.." was his answer, as futile an attempt as it was. Clover was not the type to accept such words so easily, be they of a truthful nature or not. It was a wonder that he would even try. The male's gaze shifted over to the other figure that stood behind Clover in a weak attempt to dismiss her concerns over what he believed to be a petty injury, though it was quickly drawn back to her as the girl, indeed, reacted as could have been predicted by the hyur.

Just a little off-topic but isn't there someone called Warren on this forum? Final Fantasy mixed a little into my dream last night where I was my own character except that there were little dragons we were flying about too, but in any case...! I'll spare the few details I remember and just get to the point, in my dream it felt imperative that I tell Warren that he has fantastic hair so in case that was some supernatural sign that I was supposed to bring back to the real world, I felt it was absolutely necessary to tell my tale. I actually think he had this hair...(long) ...though if I remember what little I think I do of Warren correctly, then he doesn't look anything like that. And even still... I'm hardly playing or even thinking about Final Fantasy right now, I have never even met Warren and perhaps have spoken to him very briefly on one occasion tops, and yet there he was! With such a clear message needed to be told. Warren, you really must have great hair. Please don't get a restraining order, I don't know why all that happened.. it just did!