Lore of Leyuna RPG (FRPG)

[C S]

"You kill people and don't bathe," Dahnae said flatly. She seemed to deflate immediately afterwards. She put her cup on the table and slumped forwards before saying, "Aw. I could have made a bet for something if I got it right."

[Turbo Tyrannophonic]

"Not quite."

Pamela extended a finger, the rest of her hand still cupping her tea. A cut the width of a strand of hair appeared at the end of the digit; from within, a scarlet strand of blood wove its way into the air, undulating like an otherworldly snake.

Normally, the red woman made every effort to maintain an ordinary appearance. With this one, however...somehow, she didn't think anything the girl said would be believed, no matter how true.

[C S]

The demonstration prompted a raspy, "Weeeiiirrrddd," from Dahnae, who rested her chin on the table and looked up at the suspended blood with absurdly wide eyes. Her fingers tensed on her teacup. Something compelled her to reach for the crimson streak, or swat at it, for some reason.

[Turbo Tyrannophonic]

"I wouldn't recommend touching it," Pamela said, the sanguine substance retracting back from once it came in an instant.

"Often times the scent of blood alludes to danger," the red woman explained, calmly taking a sip from her tea. The wound from which the blood had emerged was completely gone, as if it had never existed in the first place.

"You would do well to learn that, ....?" she trailed off, indicating - for the first time since their run in on the streets hours prior - the girl to identify herself.

[C S]

"Huh? Oh." The girl straightened in her seat and said, "I am Dahnae... Araya." She was not usually prone to state her family name. Most of the time it seemed irrelevant. There was something about Pamela that drove her to be formal and say her last name, though. Dahnae sat up and reached over the table. "You can't be my girlfriend, but you can be my weird-friend; what's your name?" she said.

[Turbo Tyrannophonic]

The red woman clasped the girl's hand with her own, nodding.

"I don't know what all that entails, but you may call me Pamela."

[C S]

"Pamela," Dahnae repeated as if testing the name on her own tongue. "Weird-Pam," she decided thereafter. She shot out of her seat, angled herself around the table expertly so as to not spill her tea, and threw her other arm around the red woman's shoulders in a hug. "Weird-Pammy!"

[Turbo Tyrannophonic]

Pamela's lack of reaction continued despite the sudden closeness between the two, using one hand to pat the girl lightly on the back.

"Of all the lives I've witnessed..." the red woman thought, her expression never changing, "...this one might be one of the strangest."

[C S]

Once she was done showing her affection, Dahnae sat back down in her seat and continued drinking tea with her tongue. Things were only so weird and new for so long before they were not anymore, to her mind at least. She stopped to ask, "How did you learn how to booboo magic?" and continued drinking as she waited for an answer.

[Turbo Tyrannophonic]

"I didn't," the red woman said simply. She paused, taking a moment to sip from her tea. "Let's call it a natural talent."

[C S]

Dahnae lowered her cup to nod. "I understand," she said, and for a change, there was some clear logic behind her words. "I was born being able to turn into an ocelot, you know. I think." She cocked her head, searching her memory. Born with the power, not the ability to use it. Right. "I'm not too good at it yet though." Not quite the most natural of talents, but it was there.

[The Kingpin]

"Yes," responded Antar. "Of the three of you, Septimus's personality was closest to Bunwas and Hakeem. It seemed only logical that if anyone was to receive my grandfather's Eye, it should be him. You are strong, but prone to misfortune. Jiier the dragon was mighty, but from the moment he entered my hall I could see that he was also prone to succumbing to his anger. Septimus is a dragon, and a strong one, and yet he is of a kind that is not easily blinded by that power. He spoke with the eloquence of one who had read a great deal of tomes, and he carried their wisdom with him. It was from those things that I decided he should be the one to carry the Eye," he continued.

"That was a lot to decide from a brief encounter," commented Andruil. "Did you not worry you may have assumed too much about someone you did not know?" he inquired.

"My friend, if there is one thing that being the Qa'id does for you, it is the ability to read others. Plus, do not forget that I have my own Eye, with its own characteristics," said Antar, tapping the golden crown entangled in his silken silver hair. Taking a closer look, Andruil noted that the only jewel on the crown was a dark black-brown stone that had that same cloudy appearance his own had, if perhaps slightly less radiant. "It may not grant me knowledge of the intentions of others, but it does help me read the character of those who present themselves before me. Tis for this reason I knew that you were worthy of attempting the Trial, even though we have barely even spoken before this".

"I see...Is there a way to influence what your Eye will do before it is made?" asked the Knight curiously.

"None. Your stone will reflect your character, and what the Life Bringer felt would best serve you," stated Antar simply.

"So what does your grandfather's Eye do?"

"I am not entirely sure. My grandfather died when I was just a child, and my father could not stomach using the stone, so terrible was the loss of my grandfather to him. But from what I have been able to deduce, it enables the user to communicate with others over vast distances, to seek out friends wherever he may go, and gift him with a knack to sway others towards his cause; the skills most useful to a founder of a nation."

"But he has that ability naturally, does he not?" asked the Knight, looking to Desrium.

[C S]

"He is uncanny," Desrium agreed. "Before he came in possession of an Eye, he was uncanny. Either the Eye adds to these traits, or has another attribute that has yet to reveal itself in my presence," he speculated. It was all very complex magic.

[Turbo Tyrannophonic]

"Interesting," Pamela replied, taking another gentle sip of tea. "You don't seem quite sure of yourself. Perhaps you are just foolish after all," she concluded, referring back to her earlier assessment of the girl's willingness to head into danger.

[C S]

"Nuh-uh!" Dahnae protested, "I might have been born with it, but that doesn't mean I knew how to use it since then!" She grumbled to herself and crossed her arms. "Were you born knowing how to fancy-bleed?"

[Turbo Tyrannophonic]

"Yes," Pamela said simply, giving the girl a soft, if not slightly arrogant smile. "But my existence is not something I expect you to understand."

The statement, while harsh, had no ill will behind it.

[C S]

"Well, you don't understand my cat-thing. So there," Dahnae retorted, affording herself a moment of smugness as well. She had a grin to match on her face; she truly felt as though she had thoroughly outplayed Pamela in this battle of wits between them.

[Turbo Tyrannophonic]

Pamela smiled, nodding.

"True enough."

The red woman extended the same finger that had demonstrated her affinity with the sanguine. In fluid fashion, the digit became fleshy and pointed - the base resembled raw, exposed muscle, while most of what extended outward looked almost like metallic bone. The hideous transformation was a small scale version of the one she had undergone in her fight against the poachers.

"Though, I am not without experience in body modification."

[C S]

In response, Dahnae held up a hand to her face and focused. She would turn her hand into a paw with giant jungle-claws. With her eyes trained on her palm, she channeled her will. Silently. Unmoving. Up until she got bored with the effort a few seconds into the endeavor. She shook her hand and shrugged. "So what are you, Weird-Pam?"

[Turbo Tyrannophonic]

"I am one of the things that goes bump in the night," Pamela responded simply, her finger regaining its former shape as she returned to her tea.