Welcome to Gaia! ::

"Patience, young death soldier." Aisa's hand brushed past her small shoulder, glancing back at the ghoul briefly as she strode past the room to seat herself closer to Medea. There was a fondness, a comfort, in seeing that the Lost Clans still thrived strongly. A bit humorously too, as horsemen stared at Medea suspiciously, a few almost edging away from the scene. Coal lashes glanced briefly across the room, reflecting it was a sight she hadn't seen in quite a significant time.

Where the Protectors were most of the time was a question that many thought and few asked. But they came when called.. and apparently, this was a very important call.

"Medea. You called?" Aisa's brow lifted a fraction, as she glanced at the props Medea held proudly. But that was all that was revealed, as Aisa adjusted a flower on Medea's head, with the fondest of affections. She fiddled with it for just a moment more, before catching sight of Eris.

She may have also pressed a kiss to Eris's cheek in the midst of the Protector's address to various members of their clans. Eris tasted deliciously sweet, Aisa reflected, as usual.

Shik's dreams, normally a cavalcade of bloody images or a flutter of dual-toned feathers, were invaded by Medea - and he didn't like that. Not the idea that anyone could spy on him at his most vulnerable, not that his dreams were a substance to be toyed with, and most certainly not that someone could shift the content of them like it was nothing. So it was with a scowl that the executioner proceeded into the tent, eyes-half lidded with lost sleep and a sneaking suspicion that things would be as joyful as the last excursion.

A grunting growl was Iyari, Shaheen, and Senga's greeting. Eris at least got a bow of his head, more than most.

~ ~ ~

Mort rarely dreamed, but ever since he came to Amityville he had begun to regard them with apprehension and dread. They tended to herald nothing but trouble: dreams of gray whispers, dreams of a land called Om and a king who claimed origin in his imagination, dreams of death and stone and a fog that never cleared, and now dreams of the high priestess. He should have known better, and yet the zomboil was like a fish caught on a hook: dragged against his will now that his interest had been piqued.

Shoulders hunched, eyes darting, he neared Mei and gave her a low, "Hey," as it had been a while since he had seen her; the reminded that the ghoul was an Initiate didn't help his mood, ever one who preferred to protect those he considered innocent even if they were the most mischievous of imps. "S'been a while. How is?" His skin itched being around so many at once, and he shifted often and idly, waiting for something to strike.

Spying Eris, Mort paused and gave a long stare. Nothing more and nothing less than a distant look of awe and envy. Could he approach? More like dared he with others around her. Questions, questions . . . He scratched at his neck and glanced at Sal nearby, lightening some. At least one friendly face was here. Technically so was Shaheen, but again, approaching a group and all . . . Mrrrr. Kiwi too got a look, somewhat more friendly but through the lense of a boil who didn't sleep, couldn't sleep if he wanted to, and could do very little to occupy his mind while awake.

(crap post is crap because school time wheee)

Senga grinned sharply at Shaheen, his fangs bright and flashing. Challenges were his favorite thing, and the chieftain seemed to jump to the plate whenever she sensed one being thrown in her direction. As it was, she managed to produce and toss a small rock in Mengyao's direction without so much as a questioning glance. It grazed his shoulder, which did little to quell the irritation in Senga's gut at the man's very presence. Huffing gently, he raised his eyes to the horsewoman.

"Have you practiced at aiming lately?" He teased gently, nudging her ribs with one bony wingtip.

When the War heiress addressed him, the little wolf turned back to her with a fond flutter of his wings, returning the brush of fingers with his own and a respectful bow of his head. "Hopefully someday we can sate that restlessness." He hummed quietly, folding his hand back towards himself, as though trying to pull back the sight of grey fissures burnt into his skin. He knew that familiar restlessness, that hollow ache of hunger in his belly for something that no longer existed in their world. His wings angled and fluffed, and the quiet moment dissipated from his person with a practiced air.

"Keep together?" he repeated the words bemusedly, glancing at Shaheen. "Well, our dearest chieftain does make it a habit to throw buckets at certain horsemen's heads on a regular basis." He rumbled, his tone sharp and lilting, though it as so obviously a tease.

Catching Lan's eyes on him, Senga gestured with his hands and his wings in a show of defiant rebuttal; he had nothing to do with the abuse on a certain Noble Conquest this time! Finished with his wordless tirade, he simply shrugged his shoulders and made another gesture, an unspoken question as to why exactly the horsewoman was hiding in plain sight. Was the idea of going somewhere hideously bright such a scary idea?

A short burr of sound was returned when Shikoba arrived. Senga lifted his head and tilted it, the white wolf fur brushing against his tan skin. "Sleep well, Shikoba?"

Bark bark bark.

It was a fairly awkward thing, dreaming of Medea in the middle of a fashion show with the clans hormen showing off all the various styles of clothing that made sense, and was clearly avant garde. Why did medea have to show up on the runway wearing a swan dress with a swan neck and head scarf wrapped around her shoulders, fluffy and white as clouds on a sunny say.

That was enough to keep Jing from anymore naps today and find his way toward the center tent where most of the clans have gathered.

The horseboil was thankful that Medea was not in the swan outfit in real life. That was scary enough as is. "I wish you'd choose a more conventional way to get out attention, my dear Head Priestess."

A soft chime of greeting came to the other Famine horsemen from Fai's ankle bracelet as he saw them. He gave up looking for a place to sit and moved to the back with his fellow brothers--since they seemed not to want to mingle.

Unfortunately, Fai was rather short and skinny, so he didn't make a very good shield. Of course his hair did help make up for that--even though a good few of the heads were looking at both of the horsemen (regardless of how far from each other they stood) with disturbingly happy plant smiles on their... blossoms.

She had only managed to hit the tall noble on the shoulder, which had Shaheen's lips pursing, a small frown creasing her forehead. If Lan peeked out to spare a glance her way, she would give the much shorter noble woman a wave of her hand, before returning her attention to Senga, mumbling to him under her breath, "I am out of practice. My usual target has been given some respite." Of course she meant Shik, because who else would Shaheen be using as a target for honing her rock throwing skills? Speaking of the big man, why wasn't he here yet? Laziness. She should have stopped by his tent...their tent?...on the way to Medea to make sure he had woken up.

The word home, when used, rang like a bell in the woman's head, louder then the voices that continued to hum and babble on about things she could never decipher. That word alone seemed to be enough to increase the whispers volume, and she gave her head a small shake as though that would be enough to make them quiet down again. Of course, it didn't work, and it never did, but she wanted no part in their grey "home". Instead of dwelling out what she could not control, she focused more on Eris, and on trying to find the words to reply.

"A true home would be nice, but I am finding that what matters more is who I am with, and not where I reside." A smile was used to mask her internal struggles against the whispers, one that quirked up even higher when Eris asked if her and Senga kept together.

"We do meet on occasion for a little bit of sparring practice. Senga is as quick to learn as he is agile in his movements." Praise, from Shaheen? It was a rare occurrence in and of itself. At Senga's comment however, she just scoffed a laugh. "I am merely keeping everyone on their toes." Her humor seemed to be improving more and more as the banter continued.

As more and more horsemen arrived, Shaheen gave each a passing glance, some receiving more then others. Iyari got a small smile and a nod, though she did not know the other woman well. Thrain got a flash of teeth that might have been a grin, if it didn't look so vicious. She was about to shout across the tent at him to come and join them but then saw Nergui approach him and bit her tongue instead. She would have to find time to harass him later.

The other Protectors, Aisa and Invictus, would both receive more formal greeting in the form of a small bow of her head if either looked her way. The protector of Death had approached Eris, so the chieftain kept her silence for a time, before an all too familiar growl had her turning her attention elsewhere.

Ah, there was the grumpy old bear now! Of course he would be all disheveled and sleepy eyed, and bothering him at that point was likely quite hazardous to ones health, but that didn't seem to stop Senga, and that certainly wasn't going to stop Shaheen, who chose to ignore the fact that he couldn't have at least given her a "good morning", or something better then a grunt. She moved towards him, golden eyes narrowed, face tilted up just slightly as she stared at him.

She then moved to the side as though to step past him, turned, and reached up, fingers just itching to fix the feathers that were weaved into his hair, to attempt to straighten them even if they did not need straightening. "You are a mess." She murmured, lips quirking up into a smile that was for once not cruel. "Cheer up, Shikoba. Soon we will be tearing apart humans and destroying their families, and homes, and burning everything they hold dear to the ground." Look, she was trying to be nice. She had even mentioned fire. She knew how much he loved fire.

Senga received an attempted slap with her wing, which flared out towards him even while she wasn't looking at him anymore.

Aymet was starting to seriously dislike dreaming. He seemed to have become more prone to losing consciousness since events earlier in the year, and nothing good ever came of it. It was actually a plus for Medea to show up. It gave the lost hours an actual use. He was somewhat glad of the chance to get away from the school life and back to what mattered most - the end to the threat against their world.

He spotted a familiar face milling in the crowd of horsemen and pressed through the sea of bodies to give Mort a clap on the back and a greeting that was mostly lost to the rising noise of conversation. Friend, partner-in-crime, and now student council cohort? They were growing up. It was weird.

-----

(( Mahir will be here soon BRB OUT OF CLASS LOLOL ))

The soldier shifted her stance as Aisa brushed a hand over her shoulder, the soldier had worked with her perhaps once, maybe twice in the past. Never directly with, simply one of the many pieces that followed behind the former Heir now Protector.

"I find discomfort in gatherings..." she added to the Protector of death, "We are all kin here but it does not ease my mind to see so many faces near our Priestess." Paranoid a bit? Yes. Considering the events in their own world she always felt slightly on edge in Halloween now.