Twinflame

"I've already apologized for what mistakes I can." K'ile crossed his arms over his chest, frowning at K'iara. "Bringing Xha'li here was not one of them. We weren't always afraid of outsiders, and there's no reason to be. I know K'yohko's gotten all territorial and started marking every tent in the tribe, but we can't let that start rubbing off on everyone. One of the reasons we're moving north is so we can trade with outsiders more easily, remember." * K'takka lifted one hand, her shivering black finger set apart from the rest of her digits as she waved her hand in the air. "K'ile's hatred comes from his jealousy. He has been too much of a coward to challenge you, so he groans. It has no weight." She bundled her hand back against her chest, the points of her claws sinking into the fibers of the pillow she held. "Yohko, remember that you will not be Nunh forever. Nor would K'thalen have been. You will be an Elder one day, Yohko, and a better one than any other man or woman in this tribe. Do not bargain that away."

"She'd still vouch for me," K'ile replied. His pacing had paused when she'd been in front of him, but as K'iara dropped into ehr stretching, he began to pace again. He wasn't in the mood to spar. He had to save his energy for the migration and his violence for K'yohko. "Even if she didn't, there are other women who would. Azeyma knows half the women in this tribe have been taunting me about it. And I haven't given our young any bad ideas!" On the wagon, K'takka sat hunched over, with vibrantly colored purple and blue clothes wrapping her wiry form. She held an ornate pillow to her chest, her wrist clattering with golden ornamentation that had been gifts from her many children, and with the firedancing stones that had been claimed from K'ile Tia. She watched K'yohko return from helping K'luha off the cart, smiling at him fondly. "Graceful," she muttered to him, in a tone that only they and perhaps the other Elders could hear. "Showing no bitterness to the woman who supports K'ile Tia's challenge against you."

K'ile had no interest in stopping to rest, and even less interest in bathing in the oasis. He knew he was being a prematurely old grump about this, as K'iara would likely remind him if he spent too much time frowning, but he didn't believe he had any particular reason to be in a good mood. He paced the sand in the U-tribe's camp, his spear swaying in the harness over his shoulders, and cast blue-eyed disapproval at the permanent stone buildings the U-tribe lived in. "I don't like how they live. Setting up long-term trade stations inside the tribe. Ul'dahn soldiers living here." He spun to walk the other directions, turning his gaze towards K'iara as he moved past her. She might look too much like her father for his comfort, but at least she wasn't one of Yohko's women or children. Since he'd proclaimed his challenge -- and judging by how the Hipparion huntresses and even some of the Drake women were looking at him, everyone knew -- he was avoiding Yohko's cult of worshipers. K'iara made as good of company as anyone, even if he had never gotten to know her very well. "And they follow their Nunh instead of Elders." He went on. "I don't even need to say why that's a bad idea. This Drake tribe is going to give our young strange ideas. Not good ones."

Skins were stripped from the sands, stakes from ropes, sticks from tents, everything laid flat and wrapped in bundles. Nothing was to be left behind except for the marker that would direct errant tribesmen northward, and this was being erected by a huntress as K'ile returned to camp. It was a small construct of wood and string, with branches pointing in several directions, colored ornaments decorating it. Only a member of the tribe would be able to read it and discern the direction the tribe had gone. To outsiders, animals and Amal'jaa, it would be useless. K'ile found the elders gathered near the cart that he had brought to the tribe, Chocobo yoked to it and supplies stacked high in the back. In addition to food and alchemical supplies, it was also adorned in the many fetishes and charms that would keep the tribe safe for the duration of the trip, items which the Elders usually had to carry in hand. K'ile and a couple of huntresses aided the Elders into the cart, and K'ile was about to mount the front of it to steer it when K'takka informed everyone that K'ile was not permitted to drive carts or chocobo anymore. His ears burning and face red from embarrassment, K'ile instead walked beside the cart, his tail shivering. The first place the cart went was to the healer's tent, to receive the wounded Nunh and a man that K'ile saw as an interloper: K'hai. The tiny Tia thought it would be wise to hold his tongue for now, and he did, though he surreptitiously attempted to judge K'yohko's strength. If the Nunh was too weak, the coming fight would be meaningless. Perhaps a week-long delay was called for after all. Except for the cart, everything was to be carried or dragged on tarps connected by rope to the chocobo, or even dragged by hand. Thick cloth tarps had been laid out and piled high with clay pots and bowls. Everything the tribe possessed, used or created was to be taken with them. Nothing would be left behind. Within hours, the movement of sand would have concealed even the indentations of their tents, and because of paranoia of Amal'jaa following them, they would cover their own tracks as they went.

Night had fallen. It was the perfect time of evening to begin the journey. K'ile lifted himself, ears standing tall over his head, blue eyes catching the moonlight, to look back towards the tribe. He couldn't see anything; no fires had been lit, as they normally would, and all was awash with shadow. What K'ile's eyes could not see, however, came to him in complicated scents. Stirred up by the felling of tanned leather tents, the rolling of mats and the sealing of bags and urns, the smell of the tribe blew across the dunes to him. He could make out the scent of dried meat, a more salty smell than anything that would lure animals to the tribe, but it smelled like food to him. If that was being packed now, then it was almost time to leave. He could imagine the tents bundled and slung to chocobos alongside sacks containing the meager possessions of the entire tribe. Sagolii nomads, when told to do so, could migrate a hundred malms in two days and have the camp completely erect before the second day is over. The Tia turned and made his way down the dune he'd been standing upon, his back to the tribe, moving outward. The 'trail' that they'd told him to cover was almost invisible to scent, much less to sight. He thought it more likely that the Amal'jaa had followed the scent of one of the outsider's chocobo than any physical trail left behind. Another scent that K'ile could pick among the sand was the putrid, coppery stink of the Nunh's blood. K'ile was able to follow this trail much better, though this he collected. He would put the bloodied sand to fire when he got the chance, lest it attract insects that bare ill omens, or lead predators to the tribe. In the darkness ahead, K'ile smelled something dry and putrid. not a Miqo'te, nor any beast that a Miqo'te would hunt. K'ile pulled his spearfrom where it was fastened on his back and leveled it in front of him, growling into the dark. "You aren't supposed to be this far south." The Amal'jaa rose like a boulder unfurling, one scout alone in all the night. K'ile would have smelled if there were more of them, and though this one carried the stink of several individuals, all were old except for its own individual scent. The thing's dark caught the moonlight like an insect's chitin, eyes like black beads stuck in the side of its head. It coughed at the Tia, and then its jaw opened and exhaled slow, languid, oozing syllables. "Your tribe attacked our party without provoaction. Without cause." It wasn't often one head the beast tribes speak in the languages of mankind. K'ile didn't like it, and his spear rose threateningly in response. "Their cause was that they saw you, and that was all they needed. Like I said, you're too far south, and now you've been seen again. So I guess that means..." He shook his spear. The stony beast grated out what might have been a chuckle, and its own spear glinted in the night. K'ile hummed, smiled so that his teeth shone. He lifted his spear over the head and threw it aside. "Our Nunh is soft. If I can't beat you in a fair fight..." He lifted his hands in front of him, fingers open like claws. He bent his knees in a ready stance. "... Then beating him would be meaningless. Our tribe would have no Nunh." In response, the Amal'jaa stood very still for a moment. It then huffed, its massive shoulders raising and falling, and threw its own spear off to one side. The weapon buried itself point-down in the side of a Dune, swaying against the night sky like a monolith. When it dropped its own stance, opened the claws of its hands, the air around it became heavy with danger. It swept its great tail back and forth across the sand, waiting for the Tia to attack so it could pull his innards out swiftly. Before K'ile could challenge it, though, a new scent rushed into the shadow: a miqo'te who smelled of spices, alchemy, and ash. The suddeness of this new scent was caused not only by its incredible pungency, but by the fact that it had been perfectly concealed before, so that not even K'ile's long-trained senses had detected it. K'ile snapped his gaze towards the source of the scent and saw an impossibly thin figure crouching close to the sand, surrounded by unnatural orange light. Four glowing stones circled a wrist so thin it was almost invisible. An instant later, the orange light shot forward along the ground, burning the sand black and stinging K'ile's nose with the hard scent of burnt minerals. Then the light caught, brightened, and shook behind him, with a kind of roar that he'd never heard accompany fire before. He knew the smell of cooking meat, though, and turned to watch the Amal'jaa he'd been about to fight. Its black scales were blackening further, its muscles shriveling inward, its polished eyes gone as it burned. The Amal'jaa burned alive, screaming out an earthy roar that shook inside K'ile's bones and he was sure could be heard all the way back to the tribe. K'ile put his hand against the bottom of his nose, sheltering his nostril from the rush of unpleasant scents. He backed away from the Amal'jaa as it fell on the ground and curled up like a dried-out plant, turning away from it to set his eyes on the thin woman behind him. "You are an unparalleled fool of a Tia." K'takka pointed at him, her one shivering, blackened finger extending thin and grotesque from her dark fist. Her body was so swaddled in thick furs of purples, golds and blues, that the mutilated digit was her only distinguishing feature. "At this rate we'll declare you unworthy to challenge the Nunh and I'll put you in your place instead." Eyes wide, K'ile wavered for a moment before simply ducking his head, his ears pitching back along his scalp. "Elder! I didn't mean-" "I do not wish to hear you speak. Your voice gives me a head ache. Go back to the tribe immediately. If you are left behind this time, don't expect there to be a place made for you at our destination." K'takka pressed her thin hand against the ground, and the stones -- the Firedancing stones that she had taken from him -- lit up around her wrist. Distant light caught K'iles eyes, and he lifted he gaze to it. No, not distant. Small. And impossibly small fire just meters distant. The scent of burning blood reached his nose even over the carcass of the now-dead Amal'jaa, and as K'ile watched, more of those tiny fires lit along the path he had been following. Along the path that K'yohko had walked back to the tribe. He watched as, one by one, the little dots of blood burned in the sand where they had stained it. There were so many small fires stretching through the night, like campsites around which tiny people gathered, it reminded him of the armies gathering at Cartenau. Looking back to K'takka, he saw only the old woman's back as she shuffled back towards the tribe, managing surprising speed for someone her age. But then, he'd never seen her outside of the elders' tent before, so how would he even know? With the sigh of a man who'd been caught doing something stupid, knowing it was stupid, K'ile gave one last glance at the Amal'jaa's smoldering corpse before turning to walk back towards the camp. He was sure, if the Elders were helping with the preparations, that meant they would be leaving presently. Before the hour was out, they would have begun the trek to leave the Sagolii behind.

K'ile walked purposefully towards a tent well off to the side of the shaman's tent. He did not himself have a tent to call home at the time, as he hadn't been present to set up his own tent when the Tribe last moved. Still, the supply tent was easy to pick out, always between the healers' and elders' tents, and stepping just inside K'ile claimed his spear. Turning back to K'iara, he adjusted the strap on his chest and hung the spear over his back. "Eh, I guess I'm taking myself a bit seriously, aren't I? If you're going to start throwing girls at me, just throw yourself. At least I can talk to you, and we'd both know what was going on." Walking out towards the edge of the camp, which was only a few tents removed from them at this point, K'ile kept his gaze on the woman who looked so much like his dead brother. She snickered like K'thalen had once snickered, scolding with hard humor. "I didn't have any reason to hide the cart tracks. Nobody had provoked any Amal'jaa yet. But, yeah, I'll get it."

K'ile pulled himself up off the sand, sitting on his haunches and looking up on the women. "The tribe needs a new Nunh, and neither of the other Tias even know what the word means. If you really can't imagine a tribe in which K'yoko is not Nunh, then that's part of the problem." He stood and spun, his tail tracing a broad arc in the sand. Looking over his shoulder, he said, "In brighter years, the Nunh would be challenged every week, and still make time for his children. If he has gone soft and cannot defend his title, then he needs to be defeated. Otherwise our tribe has no Nunh." He flicked his eyes towards K'iara. "I want to patrol. I'll see the Amal'jaa myself if they're there. I'll tell the huntresses I relieve to see to the drakes." As he began to walk away, he said, "My challenge will be delayed until we reach our new home in the north. The tribe will celebrate the success of the journey by watching me break K'yoko Nunh."

A body struck K'ile Tia, and suddenly his senses were full of the woman's scent. He could smell on her the sweat that Azeyma had pulled from her skin, the spices of Ul'dah and the rotten stink of gil, her father's blood mixed with the stench of dead Amal'jaa. The whirl of smells was dizzying, and he closed his eyes against it. Disoriented, he hit the sand hard and limp, with his tail lashing crookedly beside him and his ears pinned down against his head. He stayed that way, though. He wasn't interested in fighting back. This wasn't the fight that he wanted.

"I'll dare say whatever I want about him. He was an idiot to attack the Amal'jaa. Did they provoke him? Amal'jaa are not normally our enemies. And why alone instead of getting help? We're hunters. We surround and overpower. We think. Apparently he doesn't. He isn't a good hunter, and he isn't going to be Nunh much longer, either." He distanced himself from the woman, intending to move past her and back to the tent. "K'yohko doesn't need his daughters to protect him. Especially if they're going to do a bad job at it. And you're still just standing around, aren't you?"

K'ile's hand snapped forward, fast, gripping the woman by her wrist. "The Nunh's first duty is as Nunh. He is not a huntress. He is not a Tia. He is a father, and I know no man worse at that than K'yohko Nunh." He leaned forward and snarled, tail whipping back behind him, and spoke in a very low tone that he had not often heard himself use. "Someone who took five years to come home does not get to tell me what to do. I can smell the Nunh's blood all over you. You left a trail of blood leading right back to camp, didn't you?"

"A scouting party. And the Nunh decided to run right in and kill them, didn't he? Perfect way to leave himself hurt and helpless and lead the Amal'jaa right to us. If there is a raiding party, it's the Nunh's fault."" K'ile scoffed, marching on, moving around K'lyrhi. He remembered her now, but his anger overrode every drop of sentiment he might have otherwise been mired in. "The only person 'standing around' here is you, isn't it?" K'ile followed the scent of K'yohko's blood, turning his glare on the healers' tent. The tribe's new healer.

K'ile followed the scent of the Nunh's blood to the Elder's tent, which made sense. If there were Amal'jaa around, K'yohko was just the right kind of idiot to run bleeding to the Elders' tent and tell them himself. As the firey-haired Tiw came around the tent, he saw spots of blood in the sand, and his nose wrinkled in disgust. Open blood would draw blood-feeding insects and carrion-eaters. Even if in small number, K'piru had taught him such creatures were bad omens, and the tribe didn't need them right now. His gaze rose to watch K'yohko Nunh staggering towards the shamans' tent, belatedly seeking to heal himself. His path meandered, his footsteps without rhythm. K'ile suppressed a growl and started after him, but slowed to a walk almost immediately. What good would yelling at K'yohko do now? He wasn't even sure what was going on yet. Instead, once his senses lifted from the offensive stink of K'yohko's blood, he noted the scent of a woman nearby, familiar but only distantly so, and with the now-familiar smells of Ul'dah clinging to her body. Once he knew she was there, K'ile lifted his gaze and was easily able to pick out her figure. She was close, and he diverted his path towards her. Anger simmered thick in the veins of his arms and it was difficult to keep himself from reaching out and grabbing the woman to get her attention. He suppressed the gesture, but his voice was still rough when he made himself known. "What's happening? Why is everyone acting like there's an Amal'jaa raiding party on their way in?" Only belatedly did he note her features, the unique quality of her scent; this was not someone he knew. "Who are you?"

K'ile had gathered a number of huntresses near the center of camp, where K'iara had stored the food he'd brought in. Breaking into the boxes of preserved meat was like a crime to half of them, but the others were all too eager to do so. The conflict he'd had with K'iara played out again: save the food for the trip or use it for a feast? Only for K'ile, the debate was awkward, for he was the one insisting on the feast and there was only one reason a Tia would provide the tribe with a feast. This had helped motivate the reluctant huntresses, because it was ritual, and so it was at least more than base indulgence. When K'ile suggested they have only the most sparing of 'feasts' to sate their starving bellies, prepare them for the journey, and save the rest of the meat for the trip, it brought the argument to the end. He would have to thank K'iara for that again when he got the chance. The Tia lingered near the doorflap of the ten, watching the huntresses divide the food between what they would eat tomorrow night and what they would save for the trip north. He had to dodge knowing glances from huntresses who saw through his transparent motivation. Or maybe they were just questioning why he wasn't helping them work. Well, food had never been K'ile's job. As he turned to gaze outward, he saw a flash of pink hair and tail. K'mih swept in, spoke in a dire tone, and then was gone so fast that K'ile barely even heard her words. An aura of discomfort suddenly radiated from inside the tent, though, and K'ile turned to see the huntresses that had just been sorting through the food for the feast in a state of pause. Tails shivered, ears turned towards one another. And then, wordlessly, they began to put the food away. K'ile's ears fell. "What?" He turned to watch the pink of K'mih's tail shrinking away into another part of the camp. "What did-..." He bit down on his teeth. There was a scent of blood left in K'mih's wake. Her father's blood. Idiot. Only an irate child would leave camp at this time of night and come home wounded with tales of Amal'jaa. He had probably attacked them on sight and outnumbered. Of course. "Hey," he turned to the huntresses. "Don't put the food away. I'll figure out what's going on and come back." Of course the women ignored him. A Tia could not stand in the way of a hunt. Maybe when the women had their weapons in hand, they would hear his words again, but it would be too late to affect this. K'ile stormed into the sand, following the scent of blood. He muttered, "I hate the Nunh," as he stomped, firey hair shifting in front of his eyes as the evening winds blew in. The air was cold. It would be very cold soon. The tribe would normally huddle around blankets and fires. But now because K'yohko had no common sense, they would be on high alert. And what were the chances anyone would be in the mood for a feast now? Maybe better than his cynicism allowed him to believe. There was a certain pull to feasting under the glare of threat. It had a defiance to it that suited the tribe. However, the Nunh had disrespected his office by doing a woman's work and getting himself injured. What an idiot to craft such a mess. K'ile would have to find K'yohko and discern for himself the state of things. So he followed the strong scent of the Nunh's blood.

K'takka stepped back from K'mih, and the shadows of the tent seemed to reach towards her. Dark as though light had never fallen on that part of the tent, they slid like oil down the crags of her face and over her shoulders. One shivering claw stabbed through the viscid air to point at the gem K'mih had just accepted."That stone is no mere treasure. It is the most precious thing to ever touch your hand. It is ancient, and irreplaceable. The dance is neither just a dance, nor just a ritual, do you understand?" The shape of the elder drooped low among her pillows, spreading out as though she were made of sand. Except for the silver glow of her eyes and the golden fringe of the pillow she clutched to her chest, she was the color of ink. "You hold the very spirit of the tribe, and you must learn to let it inside of you. To portray it, so that it can be plainly observed. When I watch you dance, it should be the same as if I were seeing my mother dance again. As though the very first huntress of the Hipparion were guiding your hands."

I saw over his shoulder what he paid you... My brain is exploding from anticipation over what all that gil may have entailed. *can't wait* She's on to us! Remember the secret code word! *swallows briefcase and jumps out the window*

"Yes, it's okay." She said this with all the zealousness of a drowning woman reaching for a lifeline. Holding herself desperately against her sister, she nodded emphatically, feeling herself continuing to cry, but smiling wide. They could go anywhere, together, just like she wanted. D'aijeen could finally leave everything behind and take K'airos with her, and it was completely by choice. Her sister knew everything, saw all of it just as it was, and completely of her own will choose D'aijeen. "It's okay. It's okay. I'll be happy for you." She turned her face up to her sister and smiled, showing K'airos the expression. "I'm happy. Airos, brilliant Airos, center of my sky. I can be happy for you as long as you shine for me."

Her ears and tail falling still, D'aijeen melted into her sister. Her thin muscles loosened, her body going weak. She leaned into K'airos and clung to ehr with her hands, closed her eyes and barely even remembered to kiss the woman back. The weight of her body seemed to flee from her, all cold replaced with warmth, all of the shadows beneath them flattening and going still. D'aijeen's senses were full of K'airos, touch and smell and taste. She could feel her sisters teardrops on her face, but they might as well have been her own, for as much as she wanted to cry as well. The fast recoil from terror to this, whatever this feeling was, this strange shock of elation and realization, left her dazed like a blow to the head. Something twisted elsewhere, some emotion and sensation far removed from her. It was as if she had some foreign stomach miles away that was suddenly struck with incredible illness, something that poured out into another person's body. Not her own, but sensed, known. And dismissed. It was so far away, and she didn't want it. This was perfect. This was what she wanted. K'airos had pledged herself to her and then, unbidden, shown exactly the affection she had wanted. What she needed. D'aijeen was being pulled by her sister across the threshold of a home she'd never been to before, but she wanted to live there forever. It was fragrant and peaceful, comfortable beyond reason. She would live in this home, this sensation and moment, for as long as she could cling to it.

K'takka slid out of the darkness like a lizard from under a rock, the slits of her eyelids growing as though she were looking on the moon for the first time. She shook dirt from her claws, the single dark, disfigured finger twitching, shivering, rigid and crooked. Her thin face twisted in a smile, features cracking in half-molted layers. Her tattoos seemed to push outward upon the lines of age that clung to her skull. Hunched low and weary before K'mih, K'takka's smile showed her crooked, darkened teeth. "K'mih. You needn't be so reluctant to enter. It's been so long since I've seen you! You're growing by the fulm." She reached out with her mangled hand to pull K'mih further into the tent, quick as a viper, gentle as a mother cat, weak as a brittle sapling. "Don't worry about that Tia, girl. You're the daughter of K'yohko Nunh! Ask of us, daughter, but let me see you smile."

D'aijeen hadn't bathed yet, so she could still feel blood on her skin. She thought she must smell like D'ahl and the voidsent that had killed her. She imagined the Skulls of the Scavengers stalking her in the shadows, waiting for her to get angry again, waiting for her to get upset and lose control and stomp and growl. And at the slightest show of aggression on her part, it would rip out of the shadows and destroy whatever she was angry at before she could take it back. And then no amount of begging would make it stop. Just like what it had done with D'ahl. Her thin legs weakening, D'aijeen stumbled. Something seemed to catch on her feet, like she was stumbling over stones, but she had no clear sense of it. Green dots appeared in front of her eyes as nausea turned her stomach, as iron shot into her veins. Her tail bristled out behind her, her eyes widened, and she spun to face her sister without stopped. She fell backwards, landing prone, feeling like she'd slammed down on something hard but the pain was distant. Something beneath her, cold and oil, pushed her upright. She felt it on her skin, not her clothes, and it almost seemed to push outward from inside her body. The shadows clung to her like ichor, staining her flesh and leaving her clothes immaculate. Darkness poured from her back as she faced the sun, pulled beneath her, writhing. There were faces and pale, muted lights meters beneath the ground she stood upon, somehow visible as if the ground was transparent. D'aijeen had no concept of these things, more for the purple flecks in the whites of her eyes, the subtle glow deep in her pupils. Faster than she'd ran away, the thin, tiny woman who smelled like death ran back to her sister and threw herself upon Airos, clinging to her. "I'm scared." She admitted to this like a crime. "I don't want you to die. I love you. I don't want you to. I love you."

Tail flicking back and forth behind her at a maddened rate, D'aijeen gripped her shoulders and pulled them inward, making her appear even more impossibly thin. She hissed with almost inaudible disdain, "She can't do anything. She doesn't want to. She doesn't want to! I'm not... discussing this." She didn't trust K'airos. If she were permitted to return to her mother, then she would leave. It was the only thing left that could be taken from her, and every time her mother got involved she lost something. She recoiled away from the fire, on her feet and backpedaling away. "I said no. I said no, I said no. I said..." D'aijeen shook her head, and spun, the world around her blurring into an incoherent plain and identical horizons. Her eyes shook. Her arms felt numb. She stepped in something cold and heavy, something that clung to her and writhed in her shadow, but she didn't look at it. "I'm going to go swimming. I'm going to go for a swim." D'aijeen spun and ran, but not towards the sea. She ran inland. She didn't even notice.

"I've already given her a chance!" D'aijeen surged up to her feet and spun on her sister. Some ambient aether remaining in her fingers sprang unfocused from her hands and crackled in the air between them, swirling as though on invisible lines between them. "Too many! Too many! Every time she touches us -- every time she comes near me -- things get worse! Things get worse!" She dropped down to her knees again, shivering, her voice getting quieter as her voice strained again. "I couldn't stand things getting worse again. No, no, no. I don't want it!"

D'aijeen turned her face away, cactuar earring swinging against her temple as he ears dropped to either side. She watched the ocean, and that ridiculous smallshell that K'aiors had somehow obtained. "It's better to keep mom a long way away. I can't stand to look at her." Her whole face folded into her frown suddenly, an ugly expression. Her tail shivered. "Se doesn't love me. I went to her and tried everything, and things only became worse. If you go to her, if you go to them, then they'll only try to keep you. They'll try to take you away from me." And they would succeed, if permitted, for K'airos was more likely to believe their mother than even D'aijeen herself. "I want you to stay with me," she glared at the sand, nodded her head. "I don't want you to see her or the tribe or anyone else."

Well I'm being wishy-washy and slow because I suck at deciding what I want when I don't have specific things in mind, but I'll just bite the bullet and throw something down for you. What I'd actually like to have done is my Wildstar character. So, hopefully you don't mind. -Name: Jack -Which composition you would like : Full body -Color/Multiple char request: Color please! -Background color: My preference would actually be for a transparent background, just a cutout of the character. But if that can't be done, then whatever color you think works best. Not picky. -Any other information. For example: My preference is for an action pose with some movement, maybe jumping and shooting, but what I'm really hoping for is just Jack looking cool and intimidating. Not super serious though. Give him one of those cool guy action smirks. Also, can you make his hair a bit more red than it appears on the model? The last screenshot I'm posting caught his hair color really well. They don't really have a good red hair option in Wildstar.

/wave /em goes back to work

"I'm sorry. You don't need to say anything." This apology came easier because K'ile actually knew what he was apologizing for. He shifted to one side, turning away from K'iara to meander around her. "I'm going to get some huntresses to start preparing for the feast. You had a good idea to use the food on the trip. We'll set some aside. It'll just be a little feast tomorrow, and then we'll have a great big one when we get to Drybone. Does that sound better?"