.The Air.
A sleek silver 2000 Grand Prix slides over the smooth, winding pavement of a country road leading into the large city beyond. The classic car hugs the curves with a style that no vehicle of 2020 A.D. can ever posses. It's the same with all vintage cars though, whether it was from 100 to 50 years ago. Behind the vinyl steering wheel drives a young, slender and tall man. His gorgeous cobalt eyes focus on the road a head and ignoring the swaying azure filament dangling between. His whole entire mane was the same color, cropped at a medium length to his skull. A short sleeved tee of cornflower blue flutters against his toned torso. It wrinkles around his loose blue jeans with his sitting position. A soft smile rests upon his lips.
The youthful woman beside him at the same age of 20, jokes the best she can with him. She blows a wild curly strand of mixed blond and sienna hair from out of her dark amber orbs. She runs a hand over her tanned cheek to cover her cream tinted lips, stifling a giggle at one of his own jokes. She then runs a hand over her hair trapped within a pony tail--the center of it a light golden color while else seems the color of spice. Her own obsidian sleeveless top reflects the image of a black wolf with golden eyes with nearly the same emotion playing in her own. It folds over her blue jeans.
"So, what were you doin' again todahy, Bekah?" wonders Rowen, stealing a glimpse of 'his girl' sitting beside him. His smile increases as he admires her looks--simplistic and yet radiant. He turns upon a curve, steering around it as though it was merely a straight away.
Bekah shrugs briefly and stares out the windshield, tensing noticeably at the curve. Her paranoia of drivers and their habits never lessening--even with Rowen. And after earning her own license, the anxiety grew even worse.
"Oh, nothing. The same old as usual. We had to do this and we had to do that and it was all annoying. But, I must admit that Starlite's getting better. That suggestion you gave the Vet really came in handy!"
"Heh, well, Ah'm so glad Ah could help. Ah'd hate to see a sufferin' animal, ya know? Ah mean, how horrible would it be fowre ah wolf to loose'is teeth?" Rowen chuckles and leans toward the driver's door to avoid a collision with her fist.
She slaps him across his upper limb and scowls darkly at him. "You very well know that a wolf can't survive without its teeth! How would you like it if your teeth were yanked out and you were forced to eat mush the rest of your life?"
He pauses in silence with thought--answering with a slightly dreamy voice, "As long as Cyeh makes it, Ah don't careh." He swerves calmly to pass an unusual walker, his cerulean irises narrowing as he stares at her. "Tha's strange."
"What is?" Bekah glances at him, rolling her eyes at his previous comment, and then turns her attention upon the stranger. Odd she was indeed, strolling calmly under the hot sun in three inch spiked heels, a mid-though obsidian leather skirt covering torn nylon hose of the same hue. A tight halter top molds to her form and a worn leather jacket of onyx is strewn across her right shoulder. The woman's streamline raven hair bounces with each step she takes, gleaming and glinting beneath the sun. "Yeah, that's really, really strange. I mean, she looks like she walked out of an old magazine."
"Think we should pull overeh an' see if she needs help?" comments Rowen, still intent upon watching the figure in the rear view mirror. He frowns, noticing the ebony paint along her lips and the odd jewelry dangling from her. She looked like some rocker lost in time.
Bekah rests against the soft granite seat and shakes her head. A smirk plays on her lips while she blurts, "Nah. Ryo'll get super pissed if we don't get those supplies. I just wish he'd get off his lazy ass and get it himself. He's got legs, why make us?"
"Yeah, an' Ah dare you tell 'im that--oh shit!" his retorts are rudely interrupted as the engine suddenly sputters like there was extra fuel sucked into the combustion chambers and a knocking sound soon develops. Smoke rises from the mercury hood and he swings over onto the side.
"Ah jus' had this thing fixed!" he cries and slams his fists against the smooth custom mahogany steering wheel in anger. He slams the door open and pulls himself out. He heads toward the hood, waving burning plastic scented air away from him. He places his hand on the lower portions of the hood and curses. "Damn it all! Ah jus' had this piece of shit in the garage two days ago! This is what Ah get fowre buying a cheap ass American cah!"
Bekah snorts as she exit's the Grand Prix and stands beside him. She glares at the vehicle with disgust. "That's what you get for buying an old car, Rowen. Remember, you didn't live in Japan all your life to get that New Yorker accent you can't get rid of, right? Or that's what you keep telling me."
"Yeah, well, who gives a flying fricken shit how long Ah lived in the United States if this piece of crap doesn't wohrk, right?" he grumbles to himself more then anyone as he retreats into the cockpit. He dips his tall form low enough to snake his arm under the dash and yank on the hood release. By the time he removes himself from the interior of his car, the strange woman is already in sight.
"Hey!" she calls loudly and with a grin portrayed upon her dark lips. She quickly strolls up toward them, pausing once she spots Rowen watching her with a glare on his countenance. "Oh, whoa--hope I didn't spoil anything? So, what's the problem?"
"What does it look like?" retorts Bekah standing in front of the Grand Prix. She lifts open the hood and the engine barfs gagging smoke into the sky.
"I take it your car decided to die on you?" she laughs warmly and practically bounces toward where the young woman stands. "Here, let me take a look at that."
Rowen sweeps up to stand beside the stranger, staring into the engine compartment at the foreign tangle of mess and wires. "Ah don' understand it! Ah jus' had it in the shop two days ago! An' these cahs ain't like the new ones. Ah can fix one of those, but not one of these!"
"Well, you're in luck," chuckles the stranger. She searches the engine itself, noting where the valve covers are as well as the manifolds. She runs her hand along the ribbed plastic hose leading from the air filter and into the engine. Next she examines the coolant reservoir, noting it being a bit lower then the recommended amount, though that too can be easily explained. She swings in closer and takes a whiff of the smoke, noting it more like the stench of oil burning then plastic. "How overly convenient," she breathes to herself. "So he's thought of everything, huh?"
"So, whatcha think?" inquires Rowen and rests his hands on top of the radiator cover. He quickly scans the ancient and grease covered emissions tags along the black steel surface.
"She'll live to drive again, I promise, just let me tinker around here a bit," the woman explains with a flash of her white teeth. She again leans forward, examining each little section incase there was more then just burning oil. Or was it plastic. The scent keeps changing like an amateur auto technician was trying to sabotage the Prix.
"So, what's you and your sister doing heading out to town? Don't you know there's going to be a storm brewing? Though I'm sure a strong, handsome man like can handle anything," she taunts seductively, "Though your sister might look like she needs some help. I'm sure a strong wind would blow her away."
Bekah glares daggers at her, snarling with a lupine accent, "I am -not- his sister! I am his girlfriend!" She also glances up at the clear azure sky without even a hint of a cloud in sight. "And what storm are you talking about?"
She immediately straightens and stares at the young woman with shock. "You're honestly his girlfriend? I'm so sorry! I thought for sure that you were his sister!" She leans back over and props her rear into a position where the leather skirt inches up.
Rowen stares at her, entranced by her, even at her provocative gestures. Unaware of it, he's lurched out of the trance by his own coughing. He scratches the back of his head and turns to face toward the vehicle's trunk, sheepishly avoiding his girlfriend's glares. Never before was he so mesmerized by a complete stranger, especially in front of 'his girl'!
"I hope you don't hold that against me, sir," continues the stranger in a charming lilt. "I mean, after all, I'd hate to see you so upset about the confusion. I hate seeing a man angry. It just makes me want to come over to him and comfort him any," she strokes the interior of the car like it was his own body, "way I can. After all, no man should suffer when he doesn't need to."
"Are you gonna fix the damn car or not?" snarls Bekah at this intruder hitting on Rowen right in front of her! This thing would have to be taught a lesson if she didn't hurry and move on. Perhaps baring down on her as a wolf in the night would bring her to her senses!
The stranger glances at her and then to the distance behind the car, swerving the miss a full bodied picture of the hood itself. "Oh yes!" she exclaims smoothly. "She's quite fixed! I'm sure she'd run for anyone now, including you, miss."
Neither of them seem to notice the white wolf racing toward them, transforming with each step into a human male, which is fine with her. Much explaining would she have to do. She smirks slightly and straightens, lowering the hood with a rattling bang.
"Thanks fowre fixin' it," comments Rowen, still watching her thoroughly. He grins widely, showing off each brilliant white tooth. He extends his right hand forward in a hand shake--and suddenly slips against the smooth surface of his car.
The stranger lunges forward and catches him, pulling him toward her. "You better be more careful, sir," she chuckles gently and reaches upward to slide the dangling bang from his forehead. "You wouldn't exactly want to end up sprawled over the ground in desperate need of help, would you?"
"N-N-No," he stutters and stares down wide eyed at her. He slowly reaches up to stroke her cheek, despite the angered comments from his girlfriend, but before he can touch her, she swings out of his arms and struts toward a growing figure in the distance.
She glances back at Rowen and winks charmingly and ignoring the utter disgust plastered over Bekah's face. She then turns toward the young man strolling toward her with his hair in a wild frizz sort of like Sage's, only paler in color, and a pair of white shorts hung low around his hips, and picks up her speed.
The guy wraps his arms around her as she nears him and holds her tightly against him. "What were you thinkin' babe? Goin' off on your own like that without tellin' me! You coulda got lost!"
"I'm sorry, hun, but I just had to go on a walk," she apologizes softly, arching away from him to gaze within his sparkling blue eyes. "I promise I won't do it again. And besides, I had a very interesting experience helping someone fix his car."
"I'm sure that's all you fixed," he snorts and glances at the couple near their Grand Prix. He grins widely as the man's girlfriend stomps over and slaps him hard against the arm to awaken him from his trance. He jumps and stares in shock at her before he crawls grudgingly back inside. A chuckle escapes White Fang's throat as he can hear the young woman's screams all the way over here. The platinum car zooms off and leaves both him and his partner basking in the fading afternoon sun.
aerate
Hours later the Grand Prix resumes it course on the abandoned highway, rounding the same curve it collapsed on. Yet instead of the same glorious sun it shimmered off of, rolling clouds threatening to pelt the earth swirls over the heavens and changes the entire scenery into an oppressive gloom. Rowen of Strata, alone in his classic car, hums to an oldie, Velvet Revolver's "Set Me Free".
Rain begins to hammer the windshield in waves upon waves of nails, blurring the road from view. He sighs and switches on his wipers and then turns down the volume of the radio. He glances up from the light blue LSD faceplate, spotting standing in the middle of the road a young woman in silver.
"Shit!" he gasps and slams on his brakes, swerving the car with the screaming of tires around her. But it's no use and the front bumper contacts her knees hard. The ricocheting sound of plastic meeting flesh vibrates off the high mountain walls on his left.
Rowen groans and picks himself up from the steering wheel, groaning in pain. He feels his face with a shaking hand, wincing as his fingers slide over bleeding gashes that sting furiously. Another moan escapes as he sits up and scans the road in search of the thing he though he saw. And there she was, standing right in front of his Grand Prix like nothing had happened. Her arms crossing over her chest and a solemn expression upon her face.
"Damn--" his words fade as he lurches the car door open and yanks himself out. He marches toward her leaving droplets of blood as a trail. "What in the Hell where you doin'!?" is added, his arms waving and an insane expression coating his features.
The young woman only holds up a hand and halts him in his tracks. She steps up and covers his face with a single gloved hand. She watches him struggle beneath her grip, screaming out curses and threatening her with a voice never before possessed by him.
"Silence, Rowen of Strata, before I tear your skull from your neck and toss it to you on a tarnished platter!" orders Kamaree vehemently. The jewel within the 3rd stage Kamaree crown flashes a warning in brilliant sanguine, shrieking that she would carry out her threat.
He refuses to silence and only shouts more because of her threat, trying his best to strike her with anything--his fists, his feet, even his teeth if he could. But the tingling sensation pulsating through out his body seem to counteract all possible motion. Rowen does manage to clamp his palms around her slender wrist, squeezing with all the strength he can possess just to be released.
"You aren't helping!" snaps Kamaree and rolls her misty covered eyes. Finished with healing the wounds coating his countenance, she shoves him back enough to catch him off guard and releas her.
"Aaaaahhhhh!" yells Rowen, stumbling back toward the rocking surface.
Before he slams into the hard wall, Kamaree reaches out and grabs his soaked shirt and yanks him toward her. She snakes her arms around his lean body and clutches him tightly to both balance him and attempt to soothe his anger.
"Let go of me!" demands Rowen, once again struggling vainly. He glowers down at her until he catches her calm face and immediately eases for an incomprehensible reason. Eyelids droop over his sapphire eyes and his body seems to become a rag doll within her grip.
Kamaree sighs and gently swipes the beads of rain from the young man's face so that he may not drowned. A smirk crosses her cream lips, wondering how it would look for her to carry him to a more comfortable and less wet place. After all, he is still taller then her even in her Maree form. How unfair.
"Well, ready to rock 'n roll, pretty boy?" she grunts as she slides down low and thrusts her right arm under his knees. She lifts him up and holds him tight against her the best possible. She glances up at the heavens in praying to not meet anyone while she was strolling with the six foot something kid in her arms.
"Thank God you aren't heavy," she mutters and saunters toward the rock wall. Yet she freezes and with a gasps, switches her attention toward the clouds. Her luminous azure eyes search the rolling mass of clouds for the thing she was feeling. It was there, hidden behind the storm and waiting for her.
A hiss departs from her lips twisted around a foreign language, "Trayh truh treh tu trahyu trayh!"
She steps back afterwards and is met with a piercing whistle echoing from the sky. She winces and leaps back right as a bolt of electricity, the color of blood, strikes the pavement. It shatters the asphalt and splinters it in two. The bridge vanishes from the destruction, crawling toward the Maree and her unconscious partner.
Kamaree sighs softly, watching the young man dozing within her arms. "Well, you wanted to know who I am, and know I have to show you. Though I must admit this isn't gonna be easy for either one of us, hun."
Her three inch platform boots crack against the surface as she races away from the dissolving hole, shifting the young Ronin onto her shoulders. A crunch follows and she glances back in time to watch the silver Grand Prix engulfed by the dissipating bridge and sink toward its bottomless gut. "Concentrate!" she growls to herself and snaps shut her irises, focusing on a form that would help both of them.
"You can't help these fools, Kamaree!" hisses a serpent like voice in front of her. His voice drips with venom and slithers across the ground to freeze her in her tracks.
"Sekment!" the Maree breathes, glaring at him with the intent of killing. Her lips curl as though revealing lupine fangs. "This was not your doing, I am assured! You have only the power to poison and not take down and entire bridge!"
The warlord barks a sinister laugh and steps toward her with a rattle of his armor. He watches the young woman arrogantly while a malicious grin plays upon his lips. "Ah, but foolish Maree! Do you think I come alone--"
"What, you're not alone? Can't you handle a poor little girl by yourself? Damn. And here I thought you Warlords were sooo strong!"
"--and that I would be foolish enough to go against my Master's plans? Ha! Don't be a fool, Kamaree!"
"You know, I'm called that more and more often. I think I'm going to get it tattooed to my forehead so everyone else knows too!" she snorts and steps back enough to feel the rhythmic flow of the dissolving bridge.
"Your words do not humor me, Kamaree, and I am giving you a chance to--"
"A chance at what? If you're gonna fight me, just c'mon and do it and shut your trap. I have better conversations with earthworms then what I'm having with you."
"--to join us! With all our powers matched, no one can get in our way!"
"And how many times did you practice this speech, Sekment? Five? Ten? Twenty? Yeah, if you can even count high enough to five--"
The Warlord of Venom snarls and swipes one of his swords free, pointing at the smaller figure. "Do not mock us, Kamaree! You will not be able to defeat us! How well does the Ronin scum know that you were the one who helped them beat Lord Talpa the first time? If you join us then you'll be--"
A smooth voice of false calm interrupts Sekment from behind Kamaree and Rowen, chuckling lightly at what perhaps he thought as entertaining. "Perhaps you don't understand the circumstances, Lady Kamaree. If you do not join us, you'll be killed--slaughtered--with the rest of the Ronin Warriors. It is a fate I personally would rather see abolished."
"The only abolishment I would like to see, -Lord- Anubis, is you and your company," she retorts. Suddenly, though, she grins with a tranquil composure. She straightens and painlessly slides Rowen further down her back, getting him into a better position for her next performance. "But as you see, I can't stay and chat. After all, I have people to do and things to see. Chao!"
She steps backwards right as both Warlords lunge forward to grab her. Easily she misses their traps, slipping right into the void that the bridge has finally eaten away. Both her and Rowen plummets toward the rocky earth below.
Wind whistles past them, stinging and freezing visible flesh. The shredded ground grows intensely as each foot passes by--leaving then at 50 yards--40--30--The jagged boulders grow enormous and threatening, reach up--when all of a sudden gleaming white wings spread outward, sweeping a slender Pegasus over the mass of twisted steel and cracked, fallen asphalt.
"That's more like it," breathes the Maree in the language of flying horses, beating her wings to keep both her and the boy aloft. The muscles in her back strain , unused to flying much less carrying weight. Her silver irises scan the broad expanse and the damage from the collapsing bridge fades as the forest looms beneath her--branches reaching upward to claim them as their own.
Rain cascades from her in rivers, collapsing toward the ground. It seems into her feathers and weighs each wing down, making it even more difficult to fly. Her equine-like teeth grind together and twin "wolf teeth"--normally native to equine stallions only--dig into her gums. Crescent shaped lobes retract against a wet mop as grunts depart in rhythm to the beating wings.
"You have to loose weight, Strata, if I am ever going to carry your fat ass again!" she squeals, pumping the lengthy appendages harder.
The Pegasus-Human glances back as she enters a clearing, watching and waiting while she levitates for any sign of the two Warlords. Finding none, she slowly depresses toward the drenched pine needle littered ground. Her concaved skull lowers and is covered by the her wings. With a moan, she collapses into a heap with Rowen sprawled over her back.
"Oh, right, you," she sighs and shifts to plop him right beside her. "You owe me one, Strata." Her broad wind arches over him to block out the rain like a blanket and scoots closer to provide warmth.
"Do not tell your girlfriend or she'll have both our asses, babe."
Rowen groans--cobalt eyes fluttering open and resting wearily on the Pegasus. "Wha'? Who? Oh, my head!"
"Shh!" hisses Kamaree and nudges him with her tender muzzle. "Sleep now. We've both had enough of it today to drive us both nuts!"
"Right--"
A sleek silver 2000 Grand Prix slides over the smooth, winding pavement of a country road leading into the large city beyond. The classic car hugs the curves with a style that no vehicle of 2020 A.D. can ever posses. It's the same with all vintage cars though, whether it was from 100 to 50 years ago. Behind the vinyl steering wheel drives a young, slender and tall man. His gorgeous cobalt eyes focus on the road a head and ignoring the swaying azure filament dangling between. His whole entire mane was the same color, cropped at a medium length to his skull. A short sleeved tee of cornflower blue flutters against his toned torso. It wrinkles around his loose blue jeans with his sitting position. A soft smile rests upon his lips.
The youthful woman beside him at the same age of 20, jokes the best she can with him. She blows a wild curly strand of mixed blond and sienna hair from out of her dark amber orbs. She runs a hand over her tanned cheek to cover her cream tinted lips, stifling a giggle at one of his own jokes. She then runs a hand over her hair trapped within a pony tail--the center of it a light golden color while else seems the color of spice. Her own obsidian sleeveless top reflects the image of a black wolf with golden eyes with nearly the same emotion playing in her own. It folds over her blue jeans.
"So, what were you doin' again todahy, Bekah?" wonders Rowen, stealing a glimpse of 'his girl' sitting beside him. His smile increases as he admires her looks--simplistic and yet radiant. He turns upon a curve, steering around it as though it was merely a straight away.
Bekah shrugs briefly and stares out the windshield, tensing noticeably at the curve. Her paranoia of drivers and their habits never lessening--even with Rowen. And after earning her own license, the anxiety grew even worse.
"Oh, nothing. The same old as usual. We had to do this and we had to do that and it was all annoying. But, I must admit that Starlite's getting better. That suggestion you gave the Vet really came in handy!"
"Heh, well, Ah'm so glad Ah could help. Ah'd hate to see a sufferin' animal, ya know? Ah mean, how horrible would it be fowre ah wolf to loose'is teeth?" Rowen chuckles and leans toward the driver's door to avoid a collision with her fist.
She slaps him across his upper limb and scowls darkly at him. "You very well know that a wolf can't survive without its teeth! How would you like it if your teeth were yanked out and you were forced to eat mush the rest of your life?"
He pauses in silence with thought--answering with a slightly dreamy voice, "As long as Cyeh makes it, Ah don't careh." He swerves calmly to pass an unusual walker, his cerulean irises narrowing as he stares at her. "Tha's strange."
"What is?" Bekah glances at him, rolling her eyes at his previous comment, and then turns her attention upon the stranger. Odd she was indeed, strolling calmly under the hot sun in three inch spiked heels, a mid-though obsidian leather skirt covering torn nylon hose of the same hue. A tight halter top molds to her form and a worn leather jacket of onyx is strewn across her right shoulder. The woman's streamline raven hair bounces with each step she takes, gleaming and glinting beneath the sun. "Yeah, that's really, really strange. I mean, she looks like she walked out of an old magazine."
"Think we should pull overeh an' see if she needs help?" comments Rowen, still intent upon watching the figure in the rear view mirror. He frowns, noticing the ebony paint along her lips and the odd jewelry dangling from her. She looked like some rocker lost in time.
Bekah rests against the soft granite seat and shakes her head. A smirk plays on her lips while she blurts, "Nah. Ryo'll get super pissed if we don't get those supplies. I just wish he'd get off his lazy ass and get it himself. He's got legs, why make us?"
"Yeah, an' Ah dare you tell 'im that--oh shit!" his retorts are rudely interrupted as the engine suddenly sputters like there was extra fuel sucked into the combustion chambers and a knocking sound soon develops. Smoke rises from the mercury hood and he swings over onto the side.
"Ah jus' had this thing fixed!" he cries and slams his fists against the smooth custom mahogany steering wheel in anger. He slams the door open and pulls himself out. He heads toward the hood, waving burning plastic scented air away from him. He places his hand on the lower portions of the hood and curses. "Damn it all! Ah jus' had this piece of shit in the garage two days ago! This is what Ah get fowre buying a cheap ass American cah!"
Bekah snorts as she exit's the Grand Prix and stands beside him. She glares at the vehicle with disgust. "That's what you get for buying an old car, Rowen. Remember, you didn't live in Japan all your life to get that New Yorker accent you can't get rid of, right? Or that's what you keep telling me."
"Yeah, well, who gives a flying fricken shit how long Ah lived in the United States if this piece of crap doesn't wohrk, right?" he grumbles to himself more then anyone as he retreats into the cockpit. He dips his tall form low enough to snake his arm under the dash and yank on the hood release. By the time he removes himself from the interior of his car, the strange woman is already in sight.
"Hey!" she calls loudly and with a grin portrayed upon her dark lips. She quickly strolls up toward them, pausing once she spots Rowen watching her with a glare on his countenance. "Oh, whoa--hope I didn't spoil anything? So, what's the problem?"
"What does it look like?" retorts Bekah standing in front of the Grand Prix. She lifts open the hood and the engine barfs gagging smoke into the sky.
"I take it your car decided to die on you?" she laughs warmly and practically bounces toward where the young woman stands. "Here, let me take a look at that."
Rowen sweeps up to stand beside the stranger, staring into the engine compartment at the foreign tangle of mess and wires. "Ah don' understand it! Ah jus' had it in the shop two days ago! An' these cahs ain't like the new ones. Ah can fix one of those, but not one of these!"
"Well, you're in luck," chuckles the stranger. She searches the engine itself, noting where the valve covers are as well as the manifolds. She runs her hand along the ribbed plastic hose leading from the air filter and into the engine. Next she examines the coolant reservoir, noting it being a bit lower then the recommended amount, though that too can be easily explained. She swings in closer and takes a whiff of the smoke, noting it more like the stench of oil burning then plastic. "How overly convenient," she breathes to herself. "So he's thought of everything, huh?"
"So, whatcha think?" inquires Rowen and rests his hands on top of the radiator cover. He quickly scans the ancient and grease covered emissions tags along the black steel surface.
"She'll live to drive again, I promise, just let me tinker around here a bit," the woman explains with a flash of her white teeth. She again leans forward, examining each little section incase there was more then just burning oil. Or was it plastic. The scent keeps changing like an amateur auto technician was trying to sabotage the Prix.
"So, what's you and your sister doing heading out to town? Don't you know there's going to be a storm brewing? Though I'm sure a strong, handsome man like can handle anything," she taunts seductively, "Though your sister might look like she needs some help. I'm sure a strong wind would blow her away."
Bekah glares daggers at her, snarling with a lupine accent, "I am -not- his sister! I am his girlfriend!" She also glances up at the clear azure sky without even a hint of a cloud in sight. "And what storm are you talking about?"
She immediately straightens and stares at the young woman with shock. "You're honestly his girlfriend? I'm so sorry! I thought for sure that you were his sister!" She leans back over and props her rear into a position where the leather skirt inches up.
Rowen stares at her, entranced by her, even at her provocative gestures. Unaware of it, he's lurched out of the trance by his own coughing. He scratches the back of his head and turns to face toward the vehicle's trunk, sheepishly avoiding his girlfriend's glares. Never before was he so mesmerized by a complete stranger, especially in front of 'his girl'!
"I hope you don't hold that against me, sir," continues the stranger in a charming lilt. "I mean, after all, I'd hate to see you so upset about the confusion. I hate seeing a man angry. It just makes me want to come over to him and comfort him any," she strokes the interior of the car like it was his own body, "way I can. After all, no man should suffer when he doesn't need to."
"Are you gonna fix the damn car or not?" snarls Bekah at this intruder hitting on Rowen right in front of her! This thing would have to be taught a lesson if she didn't hurry and move on. Perhaps baring down on her as a wolf in the night would bring her to her senses!
The stranger glances at her and then to the distance behind the car, swerving the miss a full bodied picture of the hood itself. "Oh yes!" she exclaims smoothly. "She's quite fixed! I'm sure she'd run for anyone now, including you, miss."
Neither of them seem to notice the white wolf racing toward them, transforming with each step into a human male, which is fine with her. Much explaining would she have to do. She smirks slightly and straightens, lowering the hood with a rattling bang.
"Thanks fowre fixin' it," comments Rowen, still watching her thoroughly. He grins widely, showing off each brilliant white tooth. He extends his right hand forward in a hand shake--and suddenly slips against the smooth surface of his car.
The stranger lunges forward and catches him, pulling him toward her. "You better be more careful, sir," she chuckles gently and reaches upward to slide the dangling bang from his forehead. "You wouldn't exactly want to end up sprawled over the ground in desperate need of help, would you?"
"N-N-No," he stutters and stares down wide eyed at her. He slowly reaches up to stroke her cheek, despite the angered comments from his girlfriend, but before he can touch her, she swings out of his arms and struts toward a growing figure in the distance.
She glances back at Rowen and winks charmingly and ignoring the utter disgust plastered over Bekah's face. She then turns toward the young man strolling toward her with his hair in a wild frizz sort of like Sage's, only paler in color, and a pair of white shorts hung low around his hips, and picks up her speed.
The guy wraps his arms around her as she nears him and holds her tightly against him. "What were you thinkin' babe? Goin' off on your own like that without tellin' me! You coulda got lost!"
"I'm sorry, hun, but I just had to go on a walk," she apologizes softly, arching away from him to gaze within his sparkling blue eyes. "I promise I won't do it again. And besides, I had a very interesting experience helping someone fix his car."
"I'm sure that's all you fixed," he snorts and glances at the couple near their Grand Prix. He grins widely as the man's girlfriend stomps over and slaps him hard against the arm to awaken him from his trance. He jumps and stares in shock at her before he crawls grudgingly back inside. A chuckle escapes White Fang's throat as he can hear the young woman's screams all the way over here. The platinum car zooms off and leaves both him and his partner basking in the fading afternoon sun.
aerate
Hours later the Grand Prix resumes it course on the abandoned highway, rounding the same curve it collapsed on. Yet instead of the same glorious sun it shimmered off of, rolling clouds threatening to pelt the earth swirls over the heavens and changes the entire scenery into an oppressive gloom. Rowen of Strata, alone in his classic car, hums to an oldie, Velvet Revolver's "Set Me Free".
Rain begins to hammer the windshield in waves upon waves of nails, blurring the road from view. He sighs and switches on his wipers and then turns down the volume of the radio. He glances up from the light blue LSD faceplate, spotting standing in the middle of the road a young woman in silver.
"Shit!" he gasps and slams on his brakes, swerving the car with the screaming of tires around her. But it's no use and the front bumper contacts her knees hard. The ricocheting sound of plastic meeting flesh vibrates off the high mountain walls on his left.
Rowen groans and picks himself up from the steering wheel, groaning in pain. He feels his face with a shaking hand, wincing as his fingers slide over bleeding gashes that sting furiously. Another moan escapes as he sits up and scans the road in search of the thing he though he saw. And there she was, standing right in front of his Grand Prix like nothing had happened. Her arms crossing over her chest and a solemn expression upon her face.
"Damn--" his words fade as he lurches the car door open and yanks himself out. He marches toward her leaving droplets of blood as a trail. "What in the Hell where you doin'!?" is added, his arms waving and an insane expression coating his features.
The young woman only holds up a hand and halts him in his tracks. She steps up and covers his face with a single gloved hand. She watches him struggle beneath her grip, screaming out curses and threatening her with a voice never before possessed by him.
"Silence, Rowen of Strata, before I tear your skull from your neck and toss it to you on a tarnished platter!" orders Kamaree vehemently. The jewel within the 3rd stage Kamaree crown flashes a warning in brilliant sanguine, shrieking that she would carry out her threat.
He refuses to silence and only shouts more because of her threat, trying his best to strike her with anything--his fists, his feet, even his teeth if he could. But the tingling sensation pulsating through out his body seem to counteract all possible motion. Rowen does manage to clamp his palms around her slender wrist, squeezing with all the strength he can possess just to be released.
"You aren't helping!" snaps Kamaree and rolls her misty covered eyes. Finished with healing the wounds coating his countenance, she shoves him back enough to catch him off guard and releas her.
"Aaaaahhhhh!" yells Rowen, stumbling back toward the rocking surface.
Before he slams into the hard wall, Kamaree reaches out and grabs his soaked shirt and yanks him toward her. She snakes her arms around his lean body and clutches him tightly to both balance him and attempt to soothe his anger.
"Let go of me!" demands Rowen, once again struggling vainly. He glowers down at her until he catches her calm face and immediately eases for an incomprehensible reason. Eyelids droop over his sapphire eyes and his body seems to become a rag doll within her grip.
Kamaree sighs and gently swipes the beads of rain from the young man's face so that he may not drowned. A smirk crosses her cream lips, wondering how it would look for her to carry him to a more comfortable and less wet place. After all, he is still taller then her even in her Maree form. How unfair.
"Well, ready to rock 'n roll, pretty boy?" she grunts as she slides down low and thrusts her right arm under his knees. She lifts him up and holds him tight against her the best possible. She glances up at the heavens in praying to not meet anyone while she was strolling with the six foot something kid in her arms.
"Thank God you aren't heavy," she mutters and saunters toward the rock wall. Yet she freezes and with a gasps, switches her attention toward the clouds. Her luminous azure eyes search the rolling mass of clouds for the thing she was feeling. It was there, hidden behind the storm and waiting for her.
A hiss departs from her lips twisted around a foreign language, "Trayh truh treh tu trahyu trayh!"
She steps back afterwards and is met with a piercing whistle echoing from the sky. She winces and leaps back right as a bolt of electricity, the color of blood, strikes the pavement. It shatters the asphalt and splinters it in two. The bridge vanishes from the destruction, crawling toward the Maree and her unconscious partner.
Kamaree sighs softly, watching the young man dozing within her arms. "Well, you wanted to know who I am, and know I have to show you. Though I must admit this isn't gonna be easy for either one of us, hun."
Her three inch platform boots crack against the surface as she races away from the dissolving hole, shifting the young Ronin onto her shoulders. A crunch follows and she glances back in time to watch the silver Grand Prix engulfed by the dissipating bridge and sink toward its bottomless gut. "Concentrate!" she growls to herself and snaps shut her irises, focusing on a form that would help both of them.
"You can't help these fools, Kamaree!" hisses a serpent like voice in front of her. His voice drips with venom and slithers across the ground to freeze her in her tracks.
"Sekment!" the Maree breathes, glaring at him with the intent of killing. Her lips curl as though revealing lupine fangs. "This was not your doing, I am assured! You have only the power to poison and not take down and entire bridge!"
The warlord barks a sinister laugh and steps toward her with a rattle of his armor. He watches the young woman arrogantly while a malicious grin plays upon his lips. "Ah, but foolish Maree! Do you think I come alone--"
"What, you're not alone? Can't you handle a poor little girl by yourself? Damn. And here I thought you Warlords were sooo strong!"
"--and that I would be foolish enough to go against my Master's plans? Ha! Don't be a fool, Kamaree!"
"You know, I'm called that more and more often. I think I'm going to get it tattooed to my forehead so everyone else knows too!" she snorts and steps back enough to feel the rhythmic flow of the dissolving bridge.
"Your words do not humor me, Kamaree, and I am giving you a chance to--"
"A chance at what? If you're gonna fight me, just c'mon and do it and shut your trap. I have better conversations with earthworms then what I'm having with you."
"--to join us! With all our powers matched, no one can get in our way!"
"And how many times did you practice this speech, Sekment? Five? Ten? Twenty? Yeah, if you can even count high enough to five--"
The Warlord of Venom snarls and swipes one of his swords free, pointing at the smaller figure. "Do not mock us, Kamaree! You will not be able to defeat us! How well does the Ronin scum know that you were the one who helped them beat Lord Talpa the first time? If you join us then you'll be--"
A smooth voice of false calm interrupts Sekment from behind Kamaree and Rowen, chuckling lightly at what perhaps he thought as entertaining. "Perhaps you don't understand the circumstances, Lady Kamaree. If you do not join us, you'll be killed--slaughtered--with the rest of the Ronin Warriors. It is a fate I personally would rather see abolished."
"The only abolishment I would like to see, -Lord- Anubis, is you and your company," she retorts. Suddenly, though, she grins with a tranquil composure. She straightens and painlessly slides Rowen further down her back, getting him into a better position for her next performance. "But as you see, I can't stay and chat. After all, I have people to do and things to see. Chao!"
She steps backwards right as both Warlords lunge forward to grab her. Easily she misses their traps, slipping right into the void that the bridge has finally eaten away. Both her and Rowen plummets toward the rocky earth below.
Wind whistles past them, stinging and freezing visible flesh. The shredded ground grows intensely as each foot passes by--leaving then at 50 yards--40--30--The jagged boulders grow enormous and threatening, reach up--when all of a sudden gleaming white wings spread outward, sweeping a slender Pegasus over the mass of twisted steel and cracked, fallen asphalt.
"That's more like it," breathes the Maree in the language of flying horses, beating her wings to keep both her and the boy aloft. The muscles in her back strain , unused to flying much less carrying weight. Her silver irises scan the broad expanse and the damage from the collapsing bridge fades as the forest looms beneath her--branches reaching upward to claim them as their own.
Rain cascades from her in rivers, collapsing toward the ground. It seems into her feathers and weighs each wing down, making it even more difficult to fly. Her equine-like teeth grind together and twin "wolf teeth"--normally native to equine stallions only--dig into her gums. Crescent shaped lobes retract against a wet mop as grunts depart in rhythm to the beating wings.
"You have to loose weight, Strata, if I am ever going to carry your fat ass again!" she squeals, pumping the lengthy appendages harder.
The Pegasus-Human glances back as she enters a clearing, watching and waiting while she levitates for any sign of the two Warlords. Finding none, she slowly depresses toward the drenched pine needle littered ground. Her concaved skull lowers and is covered by the her wings. With a moan, she collapses into a heap with Rowen sprawled over her back.
"Oh, right, you," she sighs and shifts to plop him right beside her. "You owe me one, Strata." Her broad wind arches over him to block out the rain like a blanket and scoots closer to provide warmth.
"Do not tell your girlfriend or she'll have both our asses, babe."
Rowen groans--cobalt eyes fluttering open and resting wearily on the Pegasus. "Wha'? Who? Oh, my head!"
"Shh!" hisses Kamaree and nudges him with her tender muzzle. "Sleep now. We've both had enough of it today to drive us both nuts!"
"Right--"