[Dawnhawk]

The Kuhna slunk along, weaving through roots and crawling beneath the undergrowth. His fur provided him with perfect camoflage: a medium green with stripes of sandy brown. Even his paw pads were advantageous, soft and smooth enough to leave no mark on the forest floor. But his head... it was a pumpkin. He kept bumping it off of the trunks of trees, and he struggled to keep himself balanced under the weight of it. The last part was barely noticeable, seeing as the pumpkin had been there for years, but it was still a hindrance. Pandor didn't really mind it, though. He simply adored the scent the pumpkin gave off, and it tasted good, too. But the Headless Kuhna couldn't wash himself the proper feline way with it in place... And that was where the problem had started.
"Paaaandooor! Waaaaiiiiit!"
Butters always took things the wrong way.
Stupid Cake Kuhna... Xai're, I hate his guts! You see, if Pandor had asked one of the females for help with his grooming, things would have been said. Rumors would fly, he'd get elbowed at all of the wrong times, and Dawnhawk would get WAY overexcited. Oh, she would be off the wall! She'd probably get them their own room, and notify all of her friends, and arrange breedings... Pandor didn't need that. So he asked Butters.
"Hey, dude... Can I get a little help, here? Cuz my head... y'know... Can't really reach..."
Bad idea. Baaaaaaaad idea. Because Butters... goes for guys. Instead of girls. Guys.
Nobody told the Headless that when he came!
And now he was stuck with that little parasite, following him everywhere he went, being all sensitive and... gay.
"Paaandoooor!" he whined loudly. The Cake's path could be followed easily by sound alone as he stumbled through the forest, squishing all of the small plants in his way. Pandor COULD NOT stand it.
He whipped around. "Butters, stop it, man! Xai're! Ugh, you know, I'm meeting somebody out here." the Headless bluffed, doing his best to look hurried. "And she's hot. So I really need you to lay off, cuz if she thinks that I like guys, it's totally gonna be over."
Butters' eyes began to water, and his ears pressed against his skull. "But, Pan.."
"No, no, Leopold, just no. C'mon. Just... gimme this. PLEASE. Go n'.. find some other dude. Not me. No way. I don't swing that way."
Butters blinked, a few fat tears spilling out of crystal blue eyes. Nobody ever called him Leopold any more. He doubted that anyone even knew that it was his name.
"Ja. Yaa. O-okay, Pan. I.. Gotcha. Yup." The Cake Kuhna gave his unwilling half-companion one last glance, then turned away, cake-batter light tails dragging sadly on the ground. And already, Pandor could hear sniffles. He hoped, honestly, that not all slash guys behaved like that. He doubted that they did, but a shudder passed through him at the prospect, anyway.
A room full of Butters... That would be BAD.

[Dawnhawk]

I'm sad.
And so it was. Kilantre, of no particular importance to anyone, anywhere, was sad. Why?
Because he realized his unimportance.
So he decided to drag his Teigu butt out with the next pet to leave the pen.
He couldn't go with Abolish; his event was only for single players. He didn't know where Harolin or Domine went. So he went with the only adventurers that he could follow: Pandor and Butters.
Now, let's just say that Kilantre is not the sharpest tool in the shed. It's not that he has issues; he just thinks that he does. He's impressionable enough to believe that Lykuhna when she calls him a retard in her precious-baby voice. And he's stupid enough to take it personally if he gets roughed up by Masochia or the new... thing.
Well, he ended up here. He was confused. He was disheartened. He was blubbering in the shade of what could very well be the tallest, widest tree of the entire forest.
For a big lizard, he didn't look very formidable.

[Dawnhawk]

She was a stranger: not from here, never from here. An outsider.
An alien.
And she... she had something to do.
Out here, where the voices of the world bounced off of one another in such sweet discordancy... It was here that it would go down. All of the want, the desire, the lust, the sweltering, unfettered sin within her... It would come rushing forward and drown these trees, lift their dismembered leaves to the sky so that they, too, could have a taste of that which is morally untouchable.
She needed to kill.
Now all she had to do was follow the screams to the one who could be bent to her will, he who fit so perfectly into the mold she had prepared...

[Dawnhawk]

It had been calling him, relentlessly, for days. It wailed at him, mourning, keening about a blood that soaked the forest. It seemed that this was the way that things always started: with the crying of that pure, sweet voice. Aah, how it reminded him of his beloved! He held the face of the Translucent in his mind. She had begged him to come, but he had not let her. It wouldn't be a safe thing to do: this time, things were going to get hurt, and he wouldn't let her be one of them.
He wasn't named Graveland for nothing.
The Kuhna had left a trail of spattered, bloody pawprints across the page of his life, and he was here to make his mark on yet another piece of Evelon.

He could hear them now, sense their messy footsteps through the soft peat, hear their claws scrape against the leaflitter. He felt them. He tasted them in the air, and his heart sped when he recognized the flavor of the one that continually haunted his thoughts.

They would help each other.

The Pumpkin followed the signs that she had left especially for him, strewn across the earth. Velan could tell one torn blade of grass from the next, simply because she had touched them. He simply breathed his belonging to her. The ecstacy of it, of knowing that his voice really did have a body to go with it, nearly knocked him off of his feet. Because she knew everything that he needed to know, and he had the power to protect her. A purely symbiotic relationship. There could be no flaws in something like this, because she was perfect.

[Dawnhawk]

...She had never tasted lizard before, let alone Teigu. Was it really as stringy and unappealing as the others made it sound? Or was it better than that?
Well, Xitwa knew that her snarling stomach probably wouldn't wait long before it took over her claws and tried to snatch that Teigu for itself, and she didn't want to stoop to that. No, not when his presence was so close...
His masculine presence was a comfort in itself. She loved the way he talked, and the way he was so in command of himself as he made his way toward her. Her golden eyes flicked about, searching, until they found his not thirty yards away.

"You made it."

Bright green. Her insides would never feel the same way again. A face, she had a face to put with his voice! And she did know his voice, whether he realized it or not. He always replied to her when she asked of something. Help, help, come here, we need you, she would say, and he would howl, I'm coming, I'm coming, if you can last, I will be there to save you.

She loved his loyalty, and the way that he was never the first one to leave. The Lykuhna watched him, within the tunnel of his mind, when she had stopped crying out, and her heart swelled at the colors of his soul. Despite all the blood on his hands, despite his violent nature, he would wait with infinite patience, just to see if she was still there. Just to hear the voice, her voice, that had so much influence over his life.

"You're here."

[Dawnhawk]

"An angel... I'm dreaming."
Graveland could not believe it. This angel, this Lykuhna, standing before him, was the embodiment of his guiding light. She was what had kept him alive, the only thing that ever made him get out and kill a little. Yes, Ervaelie was the one that he loved, but he could never really have been content if it wasn't for her.
He bowed, curling a paw halfway to his chest and touching his nose to the dirt.
"It is an honor. How may I serve you?"

And his will was bent already.

[Dawnhawk]

Xitwa watched rather indifferently as the Pumpkin bowed, then stepped toward him, pressing her nose into the soft fur on his forehead.
"May I know... Your name? I am Xitwa, child of the Winter and of the Ice."
She knew that her rough, earthy appearance led others to distrust her birth, but she truly was a Northerner. It showed in the coolness of her claws as they sliced through flesh, and in the poker face she kept as she ended a life.
The Lykuhna seemed to forget all about her burning hunger both for food and running blood as she inhaled this Kuhna's scent directly, committing it to memory. What could she do to make him remember their first time face-to-face?

Dude. Why the hell do my characters all talk like they're from a hundred years ago? >.<

[Dawnhawk]

Pandor's blood turned to ice as he rounded the corner.
Well, it wasn't really a corner as much as a tree, but he was half-blinded by a pumpkin, so what can you expect?
He saw the embrace of two Kuhnas, which wouldn't be all too menacing, normally. But these two looked dangerous, formidable. The Headless saw the muscles rippling beneath their coats, and noted the broad shoulders of the orange male. Perhaps if he climbed up the tree, they wouldn't notice him quite yet...