Wanderings

[Yamilla Tonè]

I shouldn't be here.
Yamilla narrowed her eyes, surveying the vegetation around her.
Birds called to one another, winds whispered, and ... bushes scuttled. She felt like she was being watched, but unlike the times she's ever been here.

She sighed, walking on, hearing a little whistle sound somewhere far to her side.
What am I doing here?
Indeed, what was she doing there? She should be home, wandering instead in the streets. What was it ...

Shutting her eyes, a light suddenly flashed, and a voice flew to her ears.And then, it disappeared.
She frowned - that was the third time. It wasn't normal - she wasn't normal, but she knew hearing dead voices was just a little too extreme.

Then again, things here in Stoneham was far from normal.
Yamilla wasn't sure, but she felt she was going to meet someone. Which sounded far better in her head than when she whispered it, which she was thankful she didn't say out loud.

The Sun was far from setting she knew, so there was no need to worry. Worry about anything at all, really. She was part werewolf, untouchable. And so she set on, wondering if ever her mother got told that she was quite a chatter.

[Xyler van Losslee]

Xyler stood under a tree, nose scrunched, nostrils flared, and the side of his jacket pressed to his face as he inhaled.

"Crap," he muttered, both as an expletive and a naming of the smell he was picking up from his clothes. His good clothes, too. He'd been walking home, still bummed by his conversation with Charli, and had tried to ignore the whiffs of manure that sprang out from around him. Was that sheep poo-- he turned his head and then it was gone. Digested cat food? He whirled all the way around and saw nothing but dancing dust and crickets. Finally he understood that the problem wasn't fading the farther he got away. And as his mother had always taught him, if there wasn't anything or anyone around you to blame, it was time to start searching within.

And there it was; within his clothing.

"Stupid shop," he growled, nearly ripping the seam of his jacket as he tore it off his arms. "Stupid animals." He lifted his arm to his nose, grimaced, and then his fingers went for his buttons, and his shirt was next to go.

"Stupid . . . me." That's what he got for trying to do a friend a favor.

[Yamilla Tonè]

Maybe I should just turn now ...
She had been going in a direction, and then swerved, and finally she knew not where she was. A soft smile appeared for the first time since that morning - she was lost.
Well, technically, not lost - again, another advantage of being part-werewolf. But ... as she looked up the tree leaves, the more uncomfortable part is when people look at you as if you're going to killing them.

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and blocked all thought, heightening her senses. Suddenly the world was louder, in more detail. She could feel the ants as they crawled to their nest; smell the poison juice in a particular plant; and hear ...
Yamilla tensed, opening her eyes. They had darkened, as she felt the vibrations of footsteps. And heard the voice.

"Crap." She relaxed a little, sensing that this wasn't a fellow werewolf. A fairie, she was sure. Here, very close to Harrington.
Was he insane?
The smile returned, as she raised an eyebrow. Curiousity wasn't a sin, but most of the time, something bad always happened when she got curious. Besides, this could be a lead.

Walking slowly towards a particular tree, she first felt the bark of the tree, feeling its moistened roughness. Then she leaped up, grabbing hold of a branch and swinging herself up on it. Finesse and elegance, that's gotta be from my mom.
She jumped to the other tree, balancing with one foot on a slim branch. This was better, much better than walking. Her smile widened as she leaped silently from tree to tree. Directing towards the voice, certain that she was getting close.

Making a final leap, she took a glimpse of something figure and nearly stumbled. Her eyes ran down his physique, a questioning look on her eyes.
Sighing, she took a sit on the branch she leaped on, wondering if she should say something.
Ahh, heck it. He probably felt me, anyway.
She cleared her throat, and asked quite softly, "Are you lost?"

[Xyler van Losslee]

"GOD!"

He'd never wondered if he believed in God, but the cool voice that slid down his neck like a furry spider hanging from a silk thread put the fear of one into him, and Xyler went pale all the way down to his belt as he leapt away from the noise, dropping shirt and jacket and unconsciously letting the feathery white wings on his back go visible as he snapped them open to spring away.

Every sense was projected; he could smell his clothes across the six feet that now separated them, hear the gurgle of a brook a hundred yards away, sense the rushing blood and churning mind of a living thing in the tree . . . there. The burst of clarity faded, and his senses faded with it, leaving Xyler to stare with wary resentfulness at the female sitting in the tree nearby.

Was he lost? Was she serious? Xyler dropped to the ground, self-consciously crossing his arms over his chest.

"Ma'am," he started politely, then had to pause as he let out a violent sneeze.

[Yamilla Tonè]

Ma'am?
Yamilla smiled as he sneezed, wrinkling her nose as she smelt unpleasantness. She stayed her position for the time being, securing the area one last time.
She was right - he was a fairie.

In her case, being a hybrid was something more special than a fully-fledged Werewolf or Fairie. Sense for Werewolves were already heightened as it was, and natural too. It was easy to combine the both bloods, advantaging her into more sophisticated skills.
Like feeling senses, for instance.
This guy, a good looking one at that, had heightened his senses so clear that she felt almost obliged to turn down hers. I wonder ...

"Sir," she replied, humour toned in her voice. Her smile grew soft, and she moved, landing on the ground lightly. Good thing I'm wearing pants. Another thing to wonder about.
All week, all she had been wearing were tanks and pants. In different colours, of course.
Nothing else.

Good thing she was in this build too - she was distinguishable.
"Why are you shirtless in the middle of the road?"

[Xyler van Losslee]

Xyler's lower lip jutted out indignantly, and he lifted his chin and did his best not to blush. Prudish fairies were about as common as vegetarian werewolves, but he had always preferred--if he had to have his clothes off--to be under-dressed among people he knew.

And he didn't know this girl.

He took a moment to eye her carefully, his eyes going automatically to her wings, the trait he always used to identify people. Silver . . . he would have remembered if he'd seen her before. Her face wasn't half bad-looking either.

Xyler stifled another sneeze and considered his options. There were two routes he could take from here; the truth and an evasion. The truth was a little ridiculous and might lead to incrimination of some sort. Evasion, on the other hand, was always good for getting away at a moment's notice.

"The real question is," he said, "why aren't you? They say this road's true name, in the secret language of streets and journeys, is Chest. Fair weather and safe travels befall all who bare their torsos while traversing this path."

He kept his face perfectly somber while his eyes flickered questioningly down to her navel and then back to her face.

"You are going somewhere, right?"

[Yamilla Tonè]

No, that's not the real question.
Her eyes saw where his flickered to, hinting a slight uncomfortableness. She smiled, but inside a feeling of uncomfortableness itself throbbed in her heart.
Fairie wings were unnecessary, and she saw them useless. Forevermore a stain and a burden she must carry. For the sake of her mother ...
Dammit.

She sighed, raising an eyebrow. "I don't usually apply with this rule, but I'll make an exception for the shirtless." Never answer a question with a question. That just implies that you feel invaded or intruded from your wall, so therefore you try and give back the same unpleasantness. "As far as I'm concerned, I've had nothing but good weather since I've traveled here. The best part? I'm not topless."
Good company too - I was just starting to get bored.

Yamilla smiled, putting her hands on her hips. Ignoring the last question, she asked, "So do I get an answer for my question?"

[Xyler van Losslee]

The corner of Xyler's mouth tugged upwards when the woman's hands went to the hem of her shirt--but the faint smile disappeared when she left them there. And here he'd thought she was going to make an exception. Xyler once again felt a touch of self-consciousness, and with a tiny flick of his fingers (a habit he'd formed as a child that he'd never been able to break), his wings disappeared from view.

"Your question? Not about the road, since I just answered that . . . Oh, am I lost?" He lifted his face to look around at the canopy of trees overhead, turning a slow circle to get the best view. It occurred to him, a thought accompanied by neither worry nor alarm, that he had indeed picked a road he hadn't traveled before. The smell of his clothing must have thrown him off.

"Nope," he said, then looked at her again with exaggerated surprise. "But wait; you say you've had good weather despite the shirt? You must be Nature's sweetheart. Perhaps you're on your way now to a romantic rendez-vous with one of Gaia's angels?"

[Yamilla Tonè]

More than that.
Yamilla smiled, shrugging off the unsatisfied feeling. Good questions are always answered with good answers.

"Something along those lines, yes," replied Yamilla, now thoroughly humoured. "Although I can promise you, I'm certainly not your naive sweetheart. More of the cold-hearted creature from the abyss." She saw his eyes glancing towards her body, and an idea came to mind. Maybe just a little tease? Let's see how you react ...

"Tease, maybe ..." She took a deep breath, smirking. Slowly, placing her hands on the ends of her tank, she took off her top. "The most dangerous creature in this area? Definitely." In a matter of seconds her top was off, and now all that was covering her top was a lacy bra, flourished pink with black outlines. "There, I've equaled the balance scale. Now, perhaps I'll receive even more fortune?"
If Shiva would be so willing as to help me.

She folded her tank casually, eying him with a raised eyebrow. She didn't have anything to hide, had nothing to be embarrassed about. If anything, she was quite happy with her body, especially its alluring colour.

Sorry, I can't help being the distraction.
"So, if you're not lost, then what are you doing, standing half-naked on one of the most less traveled roads?"

[Xyler van Losslee]

Cold-hearted creature from the abyss. The phrase stuck in his mind, and Xyler silently mouthed it to himself. Oh, fun! An emo chick. He dropped his chin a little to let his bangs fall over his forehead. Emo chicks liked that look.

His head shot up again at the word tease. He saw her hands go to her shirt, but he'd already dismissed the possibility of getting her to play his game, so the young man's mouth dropped open when the woman was suddenly as unclad as he. Xyler's mood bounced back from plummeting like a teenager's self-esteem to an all-new height of self-congratulatory appreciation.

"Definitely more fortunate," he murmured with a grin. He didn't have to let his eyes wander; peripheral vision was thrilling enough as he met her gaze with an equally unbothered stare. Still grinning, though. There was no greater insult, to his mind, than ignoring a half-dressed woman. He'd never known a woman to strip for comfort's sake.

But she'd asked him a question. Xyler took a few careful steps towards her, edging really, with his eyes on his shirt and jacket gathering dust on the ground as he considered his options for a reply: serious or evasive? It wasn't as if he really had anything to hide, but the fact that she was shirtless meant that this one was up for a game or two, and Xyler very much enjoyed a good game.

Then again, she called herself the most dangerous creature in the forest. An odd little boast, for sure; she was small and looked a little too feminine to be able to fight very well. So . . . had she already started a game?

"The roads less traveled," he said in a somber, sagely voice, "are the ones that lead to the most lucrative destinations. Maybe I'm just looking for my destiny." He gave her a pointed look. "What do you think you're looking for?"

[Yamilla Tonè]

Indeed? She felt instability, a feeling of vagueness. He wasn't lying, neither was he telling the truth. Waffler. You're a waffler.

Yamilla slowed her breathing, her eyes glinting. What was that sudden shift of vibrations in the air? She grinned, satisfied of the reaction.
"Definitely more fortunate." She stifled a laugh, and eyed him square as he took slow steps forward, nearer to her. His eyes played fair, but she was sure his mind was racing, for why would he feel like that? Slight tense and concentrated ... what's on your mind, boy?

She smiled, still not moving from her place. "Myself? I ... don't know what I'm looking for actually." Her voice was clear, but in the back of her mind, a question rose: What was she looking for? Her mother's voice? Her mother's heritage?
So much for destiny ... Yamilla sighed, trying to maintain her features. There was no need to tell a complete stranger the whole truth for her venture - at least, not someone who is half-naked in the middle of a road.

"I guess ... I was just looking for someone to meet. And to disturb. So, I guess that someone was you." Her smile softened, feeling a kind of ... ending. Her words felt right, and suddenly her world got clearer. A slight weight on her shoulder was pushed off, but there was still the voice. Humming in her head. Drawing louder as she drew nearer to the center heart of Stoneham.

Fortune... "I'm sorry that you had to be that person. I did not mean to bother your finding of your destiny," she said with a slight laugh, letting her arms slide down beside her body. "Perhaps we should go our separate ways?"

[Xyler van Losslee]

Not a game, then. She really did have somewhere to go. Or she thought she did, at least. But what would a fairy be, if not someone who would take time out of their day--no matter how busy--to play striptease with someone they'd never met before?

"Perhaps," he agreed noncommittally, and then sneezed twice. Still. Fairy or not, there was something off about this one, and his nose started itching every time he preconsciously started feeling in her direction. But maybe it was the smell from his clothes...

"Probably," he amended with more certainty, "since, with my luck, our destinies are gonna take us in separate directions." He grinned invitingly. She wasn't likely to be worried about him being a creeper, but it never hurt to get lucky. "You heading into town, or do you want to see how far we can get on this road before Chest turns into Pants and we have to derobe further? "

[Yamilla Tonè]

”Indeed?” Yamilla laughed softly, eying him now with much interest. “Anyone ever tell you you have a way words?” She arched an eyebrow at him, trying to size him up.
What is it about him that seems so … familiar? she though frustratingly, trying to get some ground.

Again he sneezed, and as he looked at her, it hit her. He was neither sick nor unwell, and she had never known a Fairie to be allergic to flowers. How could she have missed that?
She sniffed the air subtly, trying to get some confirmation. He’s allergic. To anything with fur. Smell of familiar odour came from his now-ragged clothing, and she smirked.
Felines and Canines.
So I had to meet the good-looking fairie who just happened to be allergic with anything that has abnormally sharp teeth and fur. So much for fortune. Perhaps it was for the better, and she was now closer to Stoneham than she’d ever been. Or liked, for that matter.

Fairies were a caring and sensible race, but they no longer welcomed strangers warmly like they used to. It was shocking, even to her. They were, perhaps, the warmest and gentle creatures ever known, yet they now separate themselves. But it was also understandable – Fairies were the second weakest race, and although not always seen as equal to a human, they were almost always treated in a … very special way.

Well, that settles it. We’ll have to split.
“Perhaps,” Yamilla answered, smiling. I can’t have you interfering my path. Sorry. “Your invite is much appreciated, and I assure you, very much considered.” Her eyes glinted, and she felt herself getting tickled. She sighed, taking out a white lace ribbon from her pocket, and quickly tying her hair up. “But if our paths must go their separate ways once more, then so be it. I have business to attend to Stoneham that can’t wait, I’m sorry.”

You are certainly a good distraction, and downright interesting. But I can’t waste my time now, stripping just for the sake of it. “But where are you going? The Sun is resting, and the Moon will rise soon. Shouldn’t you be at home?”

[Xyler van Losslee]

Xyler tipped his head back at the mention of the stars, squinting even though the canopy blocked the heavens from view. Was it late? His sister would be waiting. He sneezed almost thoughtfully, frowning with annoyance at the itching of his nose, and then gave a melancholy nod, not letting himself react to the change in her posture. Not offensive, certainly, but he knew a dismissal when he got one.

"I should," he agreed. "I have responsibilities." He said it almost facetiously, but his smile faded a little nonetheless. She had responsibilities. He could practically smell them oozing out of her skin. Maybe that was why his sinuses were betraying him.

"But thank you, I do tutor young ones in eloquence and presentation. And I should let you know, so that you can be wary for any men you might encounter in the true lady-hungry land of Stoneham; you have a way with light. It . . . it just flows off you."

That was a good one. He tucked it away for later and gave her a jaunty salute, feeling more energized than he had all week. There was too much sobriety these days; it seemed the whole Coming Out deal had only done the fairy spirit damage. He missed the days when two fairies like they might have spent a month, a year even, exchanging pleasant nothings, handing one another white ribbons as silly tokens, and granting silly quests to unsuspecting humans walking through their woods.For what? For fun. For laughs. For the sake of living, and living well.

Xyler bent to retrieve his shirt and jacket, then simply stood watching the woman with a faint smile, dark eyes practically brimming with complacent expectation, obviously not planning to go anywhere. He had nothing more to say, but a part of him wished that the woman would give up whatever quest she was on and join him in the pursuit of silence.

[Yamilla Tonè]

Yamilla opened her mouth, hesitating at her choice of words. There was none more that could be said between them, nothing that she could whisper.
But ... Light? From her?
This man clearly knew not of what he was saying - then again, she had met no one who could distinguish her as she was. Dark, twisted blood coursing through my vines ... All that and much more, she thought with a sigh. ... There's nothing pure about me.

She curtsied slightly at his salute, smiling at his action. "Well I ... I should better go," she said, trying to put the right words out her mouth. It was awfully hard to think, when all she could hear was the loud thumping, ringing in her head. It was so distant, yet so close ...
As she walked forward to him, her balance slightly moved, making her falter ever so slightly. Gosh damn, that was close.
As she steadied herself, she felt his stance as the ground vibrated under her movement. It was unmoving and steady, as though he was firm on his decision to continue on with the path in front of him. Her eyes narrowed at his figure, trying to decipher his wall.

What do you want from me ...
"You have little minds to fill with your ... words, I wouldn't want to interrupt that." Well, this is hard. "And, if you ever wonder 'what was the name of that girl who I asked to strip in front of me', think really hard and you'll end up with the word 'Yamilla.' It'll do you wonders."
She winked, and took another two steps, reaching out her hand.
Let's see if my theory works. "It was nice meeting you."