[Polaris]

Name: Zinaira

A kid, probably around fifteen? Sixteen? Well, anyway, a kid ran between the stalls, bumping into finely dressed people and dashing rather clumsily between all the lords and ladies out for the yearly holiday. Soft but cropped brown hair crowned an olive-skinned face, just barely brushing the eyelids covering pine forest green eyes. Maroon wing blades protruded from the kid's open-backed shirt, and the long tunic covered most of what could be seen of the tell-tale lucain tails, whose tips one could just barely see peeking out from under the beige cloth. Her bare feet were covered in the dust and sand of the road, and the edge of her desert-bloomers were tattered and had a few frayed edges. However, a ribbon embroidery trim finished off her cuff-sleeves, collar, and hem of her tunic. A red sash about her waist kept her tunic from billowing out around her in the dry desert wind. Lanky arms and large, thin-fingered hands held onto two buckets (one smaller than the other), whose contents threatened to jump out of their containers at any moment. Her furry 'cain ears flicked forward as she heard the lord call her name, and she dutifully delivered the buckets to his feet. He tossed her a silver coin, which she deftly snatched out of the air and pressed to her collarbone, bowing. Melting into the crowd with a small smile on her face, the girl vanished like a mirage.

Later that day, the girl sat in a corner of the tavern, filling up the cups of those whose rum was gone. A bruise colored her cheekbone, and a sticky sweet stain was splattered over her tunic. Her eyes were wary as she filled each cup thrust before her, ready to run at a moments notice but hesitant, for she needed to money they gave her for the job. Suddenly, thick fingers curled around her arm and yanked her aside. The lord she'd carried buckets for earlier that day laughed in her face, his breath tainted with alcohol.

"Lookie what we have here jean-tel-men, a right pretty little wretch isn't she?"

The girl squirmed uncomfortably, her eyes darting fearfully towards the open door only feet away, which breathed cool night air onto her face. She let out a sob as he pulled her closer to him, his hand held indecently around her hips.

"Fighter isn't she? Wanna to make some money wretch? Good money for a nice set of legs like yours, wannto come home w' me? Wifes not 'ome..."

She managed to make eye contact with the bartender, a good woman who had helped her out situations like this before. The bartender walked out from behind the counter, her lips set in a firm line and hands on her hips.

The drunken lord saw this, and made for the exit and into the night, the now crying girl caught in his arms. Escaping into a side alley, he breathed close to her face as his hands prodded her, and the girl struck him in the face with a fist, bloodying his nose.

She quivered in fear, but her hand stayed raised as he made to move at her again, while all the time he was making atrocious suggestions.

"Gonna make you pay wrench, you shouldnta done that, I weres gonna pay you..."

He tugged at the sash around her waist, pressing her up against the adobe brick wall. The girl started to scream, but he stroked her upper lip and then shoved her own sash into her mouth. Her hands scrabbled at the back collar of her tunic, pulling it down to reveal skin beneath. The lord chuckled and grinned, making comments about how good she was being. The girl reached into her collar as he let go of her hands to grab her waist again, and pulled out a long sheath that had been strapped to her back. Drawing a silver blade with purple and green runes etched along the blade, her eyes gleamed with tears as she sunk it into his chest. The lord didn't make a sound as the light ran out of his eyes and pooled in a red pool beneath him. The girl wiped the blade with her red sash, and proceeded to strip the lord of his rings, necklaces, and outer clothing.  These she bundled up and wrapped in the sash, sliding the sword back into its hidden sheath under her tunic. Hurrying back to the tavern, she collected her pay (which had been left under the doormat for her) and fled into the night, terrified that she'd be found out and hung for murdering a lord.

Zinaria lay in the shade of a sand dune, the morning sun just barely shimmering on the horizon but still throwing blades of scorching heat across the sands. The sand around where she lay was churned up from her thrashing in the night. Blearily, she sat up and rubbed her eyes, regretting that her night's rest had once again been ruined by the nightmares. Resting her hand on Coaxcoach, who was always on her person whether visible or not, she scanned for anyone foolish enough to invade her camp. As always, no one was there. The lucain-girl set about making breakfast, a simple meal of granola soaked in a bit of her precious water.

Shoveling in the food, she pondered upon her dream. Of course, it was another of those time in the dark days after she'd run away from home when her vulnerability lay in her youth and gender. That wasn't a problem anymore though, as she stayed away from people as a whole, content to live her life as a solitary nomad, happy in her own way. And free in the only way... she thought to herself, standing up and stretching. The morning's light reflected off the blade of Coaxcoach as she slid it into it's sheath. The fact that she bound her chest and kept her hair short and scruffy added to her deception of her real gender, but the real problem was her bloody tails I mean, it's kinda hard to mistake a three-tailed lucain for a guy. So she wore a cloak at all times, hiding her tails. Zinaria put away her blanket and heavy night cloak and donned her lighter day coat. "Off to embrace the generosity of others,"she laughed, "Whether they feel like sharing or not..."

{1}

[Polaris]

The slight form of her shadow arched sharply over the crest of a dune as Zinaria made her was accross the desert. Pack in tow, and water bottles sloshing merrily along, her slippered feet padded along the cushions of sand- making her way towards one of the main roads.

Well, if it could even be called a main road. It wasn't much of one, what with all the sand storms always blowing grit over the packed dirt, and the winds eroding it. She ran a hand through her closely cropped hair, and realized it wasn't as short as she'd like it to be. That would have to be taken care of, and soon. He first thought was to hack it off with one of her knives, but then she'd leave clumps of hair all over the desert or to be scattered to the four winds, and the thought of some too-inquisitive passerby following a trail of hair to where she'd last been wasn't a pleasent thought.

Sighing, Zinaria rested her palm on the hilt of her sword, stroking the heads of the serpents coiled around the grip. Such pretty serpents they were too. A golden one with jade wings, the other made of copper with amethyst wings. Their gem eyes sparkled in the rising sun, and she couldn't help but laugh. Yes, today her serpents would have lots of fun.

{2}

[Theorak]

Calm & Rest

"You should be carefull with that thing."

The soft voice of the Slynx sounded like honey, seeping trough the pores of the sand, reaching for the ears of Zinaria, to sneak into them, to comfort her brainmass... "?Ånd, I think you should put it away.. Calm doesn't like weapons very much, altough your sword is beautiful." A Slynx with a pale skin, followed by another one, also, very pale, like it was part of the desert itself. "Why would you take op your weapons at all, really?" Rest giggled, and sniffed. Her lips didn't move while she spoke, neither did the lips of the other one, Calm, when she began to speak: "We are Calm and Rest. Wo are you?" The voices seemed to flow from the heads of the two Slynxes, as they approached, their paws pushing sand away underneath them.

[color=olive]"And ain't it hot here?"[/color] The two sisters giggled nearly identically, and almost at the same time, while they kept wandering towards the creature with the sword.

[Theorak]

Calm frowned, and so did Rest after Calm frowned. "You don't speak a lot, Lucain.." Calm's eyes scouted the cloth wich the Lucain was wearing, and saw it's tails. "And your clothing doesn't make you remain unseen for a Slynx." Rest and Calm giggled, and stepped closer to the Lucain. "Maybe you have a heatstroke?" The two sisters said, and they began laughing. They rolled trough the sand, and suddenly, they seemed to have dissappeared. The sand had covered the already camouflaged skins of the Slynxes, but now, they were vanished into the sand. A bit farther away now, the two sisters giggled again. "Are you traveling to somewhere?" They asked lively. "We know the desert very well. We can show you shortcuts. Routs wich no bandits seem to know. We'll do it for free. We don't have a lot of company, poorly." They said, and they started giggling again.

[Polaris]

Zinaria's mind had been elsewhere while her legs carried her to her destination. She jumped, startled as she noticed the two slynx who had appeared at her side. Cursing herself for not being more attentive, for she was certainly not the only one able to traverse the most inner reaches of the desert, the lucain opened her ears and mind to listen to what the two were saying. Somewhere, in the back of her head, Zinaria noted that before she'd realized the two were beside her, there had been a slight buzzing at the edges of her consciousness.

Her eyes narrowed, as free was not an offer she'd willingly take. "I can find my own way, thanks." She answered, resting her palm on the hilt of her sword. The two felines didn't seem harmful, but then again, she herself wouldn't look dangerous either, if not for Coaxcoach. On another note their laughing creeped her out, and the idea to run them through had already occurred to her. But unneeded killing went against her morals, and they reminded her of the desert spirits she'd heard about, who whispered in your ear to sit down, rest your head on the sand, and then they'd push scorching winds though your body to kill you. It was dangerous to kill them, lest you be killed in turn by the winds that would be released when your sword pierced their skin. Shivering, Zinaria shook off her dark thoughts. Unable to resist asking, Zinaria questioned the two, "are you desert spirits? Few have crept upon me like that, but all possessed some sort of ethereal power."
{3: Sorry for not replying sooner!}

[Theorak]

The sisters gazed upon her for a moment, and began laughing again but way louder this time. Calm gained control of her body first, and she shook her head, while she stroke the tears out of her eyes. "No, we're no desert spirits. We're rather desert ghosts." She pointed at her pale fur and her even paler skin. "Slynxes who manage to survive in the desert, become paler, almost as pale as this sand. That's why we're called desert ghosts." Calm said, en Rest stood up. "If we're not your guides, can we then still be your traveling companions?" She tried to look as cute as she could, and Calm shook her head, while she was trying not to laugh. "We are avoided, poorly. Because of the legends of the desert-folk," She said. "but we mean no harm!"

[Polaris]

Zinaria eyed them suspiciously. "No... I am going to have to forsake your offer. I travel to a specific city, and... would prefer it if I arrived alone. I'm terribly sorry," Well, that was a lie, but etiquette demands it, she thought. "You would probably find a poison sand snake better company than I, as trouble seems to lie in the very shadows of my footsteps." She bowed briefly, careful not to expose her neck for any significant amount of time, and backed off in a different direction.

[Polaris]

Zinaria whistled as she walked across the sands, letting her cloak whiffle out around her feet as the desert wind played with it and made whimsical shadows on the sands. She ran her hands through her light brown hair. She'd have to re-dye it soon. The blond roots were starting to show, and blond hair attracted attention in these parts. Shrugging, she continued on the path she'd mapped out last night with the map of stars above her head. She'd come by a handy compass in the last town she'd visited, and made good use of it when charting her course.

[Sorry, I had to pull her out for a different area.]