Ronnae had decided to head to the observation deck. Today she wanted to think, there was so much on her mind. She had her trademark red horde hoodie with it's hood pulled up, and some black thick sweat pants. She had reached the it without noticing the draenei at first, having had her head down. Once she did however, she noticed it was Nokosi's acquaintance. She gave a friendly nod before staring at the lights.
Nehaalista nodded in reply, uncertain of how to communicate to the girl. Half-anythings weren't uncommon between her people and the orcs (though almost entirely obliterated now), but she never had been able to understand their feelings. She was draenei; everything she felt and thought was the model of a draeneic upbringing. How was it halves understood what it meant to be one thing, when they were both things?
Ronnae blinked. She had forgot his friend was mute. She didn't understand the signs so they must be different from what she was used to when talking to Lil. Regardless she seemed down, and if there was one certainty on this whole mess, it was that they where in it together.
She walked to her and knelt in front of her. She offered a friendly smile from under the hood. "You alright?"
She stared for a moment at Ronnae, those pupiless eyes at her unfathomable as she put together an answer. After a moment, Nehaalista shrugged and crossed her hooves.
It was in the dead of the and though most of the sane folk of the ship were already deep into sleep, the perpetually inquisitive Night Elf found himself doing what he was most fond of; walking and exploring. He had never really had a regular sleep schedule and being tossed aboard a ship where the hours seemed to merge together hardly helped.
It didn't matter that he'd seen most of these areas before, the fact that they were unpopulated at the moment meant he could view, touch and hear things he might have missed before. Or he had thought it would be unpopulated.
He inhaled deeply, his nose wriggling as he did. Though the figure didn't seem familiar from this angle, there was really no mistaking that scent. He walked up behind her on the couch but didn't announce his arrival. Instead he merely peered over her shoulder to see what it was she doing.
How many other horned ladies was Nokosi going around with? Nehaalista looked up at him, her expression bemused. She'd been so lost in thought, that she hadn't heard him approach; not that it was uncommon, for such a lanky, loud thing, Nokosi could be terribly quiet when the mood struck him.
[Good evening, Nokosi,] she signed, without the helpful, translating voice. Her necklace was far off in her room. [Shouldn't you be asleep?]
One would probably be surprised at the number of Draenei he'd met and amount of them who had completely twisted his line of thinking on their people. He leaned over the couch to get a better view of her hands. Thankfully it appeared that she didn't have her talking necklace with her. Even though it lent her a voice, he found the sound of it to be distracting and odd. His imagination, he thought, did a much better job anyways.
"I was wondering the same thing about you. I'm a Night Elf. What's your excuse?"
Nehaalista made that odd, breathless jerk that was her laugh. [I had a nightmare, it's probably nothing though. That still doesn't tell me why you are prowling around.] She smiled at her friend. Nokosi was a good sort, but somehow she felt confiding her worries might confuse him.
Now this was a new sight for Kang. He'd never seen Nehaalista in quite so little clothing, or her hair uncurled; he himself was only half-dressed, in just a kilt. From the look on her face, he figured she must have been having trouble sleeping that night, too. Frowning slightly, he sat down next to her, "Bad dreams, or worries?"
Nehaalista jumped like a guilty novice, and closed her hands over the ruby. After a moment, she picked her omnicomm up and tapped out quickly with one hand, [I believe I am suffering from both.]
"I couldn't sleep tonight, either. Maybe the worry is causing the bad dreams? The elections are soon," Kang sighed, leaning back against the couch with his arms crossed over his chest.
She smiled a little bit, [Perhaps.] Nehaalista turned the ruby over and over in her hand. [Kang, I trust your judgment. Do you think I should withdraw?] She turned to him and looked long and hard at the bozak. He was wise enough to tell her to pull out if he felt that way, after all.
Nehaalista lifted her head and tilted her lead at the book, curious and concerned. Without her necklace on, she couldn't communicate, and she'd left her omnicom in her room with Choline. Still, she signed rapidly at the book anyway.
[I know you won't be able to understand this, so telling you, I've had a nightmare will mean very little. In fact, you'd probably enjoy that, I imagine.]
"So, you do get out. Thought you Light-heads spent most of your time praying."
Karis' voice held a hint of hostility, a healthy dose of caution and all the sarcasm she could muster. The undead didn't sleep; why would she? Instead she typically spent the whee hours of the "night" walking around the ship. The armor almost always stayed on, unless she was obsessively cleaning it.
The halberd on her shoulder looked like it was excellent condition, for that matter. Still, she wasn't brandishing it.
Nehaalista drew herself up straight again, and clasped her hands over the ruby. Not only could she not fathom what the insidious, vile creature wanted to do with her (Nehaalista assumed it would be something to make the Forsaken feel better about herself), she didn't want to. Instead, Nehaalista turned those bright, pupil-less eyes on Karis and watched her very carefully. It wouldn't matter how fast the Forsaken was.
Nehaalista had the divine shield of the light, and ten seconds was more than enough for her. She signed rapidly at the Forsaken, and at the end, smiled briefly.
Actually, she was just bored. She'd learned how to stave it off during the hours of the night - although ususally she had other Forsaken to keep her company. She frowned and watched the rapid movements and then shrugged. "...didn't catch any of that. Sorry, kiddo."
The Draenei. She didn't particularly like them. Of course, when you're undead, you don't like anyone who claims to be a holy warrior. She shifted her weight and then set the halberd down, leaning it against the wall.
Nehaalista raised an eyebrow at the word, "kiddo". She might've been young for a draenei, but she was certainly many centuries older than Karis. And when Karis finally decided to give up the ghost, Nehaalista would still be there.
The thought was sobering, of course, but something she was used to. She signed again, and wrinkled her nose a bit. Not matter the smell of Stacy's acrid planty-ness, that heavy, dulling smell of rot followed Karis wherever she went. Nehaalista supposed if she smelled like pork left out in the sun, she'd be angry too.
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She signed rapidly, and looked back to her stone.
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She walked to her and knelt in front of her. She offered a friendly smile from under the hood. "You alright?"
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It didn't matter that he'd seen most of these areas before, the fact that they were unpopulated at the moment meant he could view, touch and hear things he might have missed before. Or he had thought it would be unpopulated.
He inhaled deeply, his nose wriggling as he did. Though the figure didn't seem familiar from this angle, there was really no mistaking that scent. He walked up behind her on the couch but didn't announce his arrival. Instead he merely peered over her shoulder to see what it was she doing.
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[Good evening, Nokosi,] she signed, without the helpful, translating voice. Her necklace was far off in her room. [Shouldn't you be asleep?]
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"I was wondering the same thing about you. I'm a Night Elf. What's your excuse?"
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And now, the second-to-last person Nehaa would have ever wanted to see! In its minions arms, the book peered down at her curiously.
"What up, Vindicator?"
It's not a hostile approach if he actually used her legitimate title, right?
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[I know you won't be able to understand this, so telling you, I've had a nightmare will mean very little. In fact, you'd probably enjoy that, I imagine.]
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The minion shifted him to one hand, dug in her belt with her tongue sticking absently out, then produced and offered up the Overlord's omnicomm.
"Let's try that again."
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To put it lightly.
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Karis' voice held a hint of hostility, a healthy dose of caution and all the sarcasm she could muster. The undead didn't sleep; why would she? Instead she typically spent the whee hours of the "night" walking around the ship. The armor almost always stayed on, unless she was obsessively cleaning it.
The halberd on her shoulder looked like it was excellent condition, for that matter. Still, she wasn't brandishing it.
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Nehaalista had the divine shield of the light, and ten seconds was more than enough for her. She signed rapidly at the Forsaken, and at the end, smiled briefly.
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The Draenei. She didn't particularly like them. Of course, when you're undead, you don't like anyone who claims to be a holy warrior. She shifted her weight and then set the halberd down, leaning it against the wall.
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The thought was sobering, of course, but something she was used to. She signed again, and wrinkled her nose a bit. Not matter the smell of Stacy's acrid planty-ness, that heavy, dulling smell of rot followed Karis wherever she went. Nehaalista supposed if she smelled like pork left out in the sun, she'd be angry too.
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