-A 'little' intro-
Standing in a lone shadowy hall is a dark little girl. Barely over five feet tall, with long unkempt hair pulled back into a horse tail, as if she did not care to fuss with management. Her eyes seemed deeply aged, to a stark steely blue that shone with deep thoughts. Glasses perched upon a common nose following down to full lips, cracked from the cold wind with a pale blue outline. Thickened eyebrows shadowed over her pale oval face, as she glanced down behind the way. Neck curved with enticing grace that bore signs of suggestive play. The pale skin wove across a fragile, small frame that showed only light hints of muscle in both sets of limbs. Draped loosely over her frame was a simple black t-shirt that bore no design, nor hint of fashion. Only to be complemented with tight pair of jeans that seemed to fit the wearer. Her feet were bare to the cold hard floor, and toes wiggled freely from confines of a shoe. Only abnormality seemed to be the right foot, with the pinky toe overlapping the one before it from the year of birth.
The writer smiled, noticing the approach figures into her dark domain. Both pride and anticipation lighted through her dulling eyes, as she spread her arms wide then sweeping them around her. "Welcome, to all. Watch your step, there might be a plot hole or two along the way." Voices resonated different within the writer’s realm of reality; it seemed to echo ones soul. Her smile brightened and nearly danced across her face, hoping the humor effect was appreciated, or atleast understood.
Fading out of the darkness behind the writer, stood a grand form of science fictional quality. A dusty orange paw lay upon the tiny shoulders of her companion. A matatomeon, her kinds name seemed known and reverberate through the realm’s air, stood in a protective nature behind her fragile looking friend. Wings spread open to near full length, splitting the darkness as if a sword, the purple blazing fiercely within the confines of such a shadowy dimension. Purple Heart's muzzle split revealing jagged rows of pearly white canines, though it seemed like a smile if any. Nose dipped slightly to the newcomers in welcome, as she remained by the writers side. Her tail doing a strange dance of sorts behind the estranged warrior, as fur rustled slightly as if there might be a breeze present. The matatomeon gently squeezed the shoulder, as if to give reassurance.
The writer nodded slowly, and opened her mouth to speak yet suddenly stopped. Her gaze traveled up to the towering tigress and she seemed to chuckle. It was clear she was intent to speak for herself. {Greetings, though I must remind you whose realm this is. Be careful of Niap, she lurks in the deepest shadows and takes care of those she finds to be a threat. Your characters are welcome to interact, however. Most of us are open minded, though do not mistake that for a friendly nature.} Muzzle did not move during her speech, though golden amber eyes seemed intense in concentration on her preferred form of communication. Slit pupils flitted towards the writer, {And honesty is appreciated here of anything we may reveal or share among you. Do not mistake, we will be defensive if taken offense but nothing will turn into a blood bath.} A flash of pearly canines surfaced again, {Not on my watch to say the least.}
Without much warning came the sound of something hurtling through the sky. Purple Heart had only turned her ears back to listen, when a golden streak struck the furry frame. A small draconic form perched upon the matatomeon’s head, clearly amused by her ambush. Though her older sister did not seem angered, ears were flat upon the skull as if disappointed in herself for allowing the surprise attack. A high sing song laugh bubbled forth seeming to come from depths of the soil, as Sairen glided off the head chuckling at her own trick. 'Yes, many greetings. Though do not mind my older sister... she tends to be too serious for her own good. Don't let that grump of a look fool you either.' The speech of English language is slightly slurred bearing the origin of a long serpent tongue from such a long muzzle. Twisting her head around to point out that exact look she spoke of on the trained warriors eyes. 'TG will open up, eventually.' Her eyes roll slightly, at the comment knowing it will be some time before she warms up to others. Sairen bounds forward slightly her massive tail following, an entity of itself equals her own body length, as she moves with the same strange grace more recognized with a horse. Scythe blades glint at the either side of the tip of her tail. She settles upon her hind quarters, wings relaxed upon the twisting muscular frame. Stares at the new comers and jerks her own long muzzle back towards the writer, 'One thing not to forget, don't let her trick you with her... "Oh my art, my writing its unworthy!" She actually is quite good. Best of your species we could find really. Not saying neither of your skills are good... she is just better suited for the job of telling our stories.' The writer quickly blushes and begins to murmur some remarks of exaggeration and that she knows many more that surpass her. 'Oh hush!' Sairen chirps in a motherly fashion and flutters her wings slightly, the soft amber gold seeming to catch an unknown light.
For a moment the writer stands before her guests, allowing her blush to burn itself out. Yes well, Clears her throat as if to dismiss the praise without saying it directly. Do enjoy your stay. With that mist rolls upon the surface of this vast space, and a table appears with mints, chocolates and a pitcher of water. Rubs the back of her neck, and begins to sort through some of her works to find more to publish.
The writer smiled, noticing the approach figures into her dark domain. Both pride and anticipation lighted through her dulling eyes, as she spread her arms wide then sweeping them around her. "Welcome, to all. Watch your step, there might be a plot hole or two along the way." Voices resonated different within the writer’s realm of reality; it seemed to echo ones soul. Her smile brightened and nearly danced across her face, hoping the humor effect was appreciated, or atleast understood.
Fading out of the darkness behind the writer, stood a grand form of science fictional quality. A dusty orange paw lay upon the tiny shoulders of her companion. A matatomeon, her kinds name seemed known and reverberate through the realm’s air, stood in a protective nature behind her fragile looking friend. Wings spread open to near full length, splitting the darkness as if a sword, the purple blazing fiercely within the confines of such a shadowy dimension. Purple Heart's muzzle split revealing jagged rows of pearly white canines, though it seemed like a smile if any. Nose dipped slightly to the newcomers in welcome, as she remained by the writers side. Her tail doing a strange dance of sorts behind the estranged warrior, as fur rustled slightly as if there might be a breeze present. The matatomeon gently squeezed the shoulder, as if to give reassurance.
The writer nodded slowly, and opened her mouth to speak yet suddenly stopped. Her gaze traveled up to the towering tigress and she seemed to chuckle. It was clear she was intent to speak for herself. {Greetings, though I must remind you whose realm this is. Be careful of Niap, she lurks in the deepest shadows and takes care of those she finds to be a threat. Your characters are welcome to interact, however. Most of us are open minded, though do not mistake that for a friendly nature.} Muzzle did not move during her speech, though golden amber eyes seemed intense in concentration on her preferred form of communication. Slit pupils flitted towards the writer, {And honesty is appreciated here of anything we may reveal or share among you. Do not mistake, we will be defensive if taken offense but nothing will turn into a blood bath.} A flash of pearly canines surfaced again, {Not on my watch to say the least.}
Without much warning came the sound of something hurtling through the sky. Purple Heart had only turned her ears back to listen, when a golden streak struck the furry frame. A small draconic form perched upon the matatomeon’s head, clearly amused by her ambush. Though her older sister did not seem angered, ears were flat upon the skull as if disappointed in herself for allowing the surprise attack. A high sing song laugh bubbled forth seeming to come from depths of the soil, as Sairen glided off the head chuckling at her own trick. 'Yes, many greetings. Though do not mind my older sister... she tends to be too serious for her own good. Don't let that grump of a look fool you either.' The speech of English language is slightly slurred bearing the origin of a long serpent tongue from such a long muzzle. Twisting her head around to point out that exact look she spoke of on the trained warriors eyes. 'TG will open up, eventually.' Her eyes roll slightly, at the comment knowing it will be some time before she warms up to others. Sairen bounds forward slightly her massive tail following, an entity of itself equals her own body length, as she moves with the same strange grace more recognized with a horse. Scythe blades glint at the either side of the tip of her tail. She settles upon her hind quarters, wings relaxed upon the twisting muscular frame. Stares at the new comers and jerks her own long muzzle back towards the writer, 'One thing not to forget, don't let her trick you with her... "Oh my art, my writing its unworthy!" She actually is quite good. Best of your species we could find really. Not saying neither of your skills are good... she is just better suited for the job of telling our stories.' The writer quickly blushes and begins to murmur some remarks of exaggeration and that she knows many more that surpass her. 'Oh hush!' Sairen chirps in a motherly fashion and flutters her wings slightly, the soft amber gold seeming to catch an unknown light.
For a moment the writer stands before her guests, allowing her blush to burn itself out. Yes well, Clears her throat as if to dismiss the praise without saying it directly. Do enjoy your stay. With that mist rolls upon the surface of this vast space, and a table appears with mints, chocolates and a pitcher of water. Rubs the back of her neck, and begins to sort through some of her works to find more to publish.