Solira: The Ocean: It’s the kinda ending you don’t really wanna see // Dazrah

There was a tinge in the air. It was bright, fresh, crisp as it washed over her eagerly as if a flame consuming fuel. Her nostrils were wide as they drank in the fluid, her ears pricked and at ready in anticipation. It was the season of new beginning, but of more importance it was the monthly judgement from the Elementals. Whispers told that Solira was at the top of the class, and for that Clock was grateful. She had been here for two judgements already, and had seen the destruction that could happen.

Her steps were springy and lithe as they carried her marred chassis over the melting ground. A nice soft warm wind would get rid of this melty stuff, and this was just perfect for Clock. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about craptacular footing at the Krieg anymore. Slippy and slidy, perhaps. But at least it wouldn’t be packed solid and she wouldn’t have to worry about freezing her ass off or going down on to hard ice.

Her ears flick as another form is spied, but she makes no effort to interact first. She knew there was a mish mosh of personalities here. Some liked the company, thrived on it even. And there were others who relished in the deep solitude that the expanses of the Ocean offered. Clock was of both minds. She could do with company, but she could do just as well without. It was the other that she was unsure of.

Her former thoughts need not be thought, for it was apparent that the other pale being had socialization in mind. Fine, we could do that. Her ears cocked slightly forth as her pace slowed to more of an amble. Her hide and muscles were finally moving eagerly, and although she ached to be back in battle, for now she would stifle that urge and just chillax. A whicker of welcome escaped into the fresh atmosphere as her keen eyes sought the others. “Indeed I am at home. As are you, I presume?” Her words were not accusatory nor were they all sugar and candy. She was not unpleasant, though her first impressions seemed to lack in warmth. But her eyes were content enough, and the weather had lent to good mood. “I’m Clock, by the way” And, well, lets just say she wasn’t the most eloquent.

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They call me Clock. I’m a mish mash, which really means my dam was a floozy and doesn’t remember who my father is. No matter. It’s been 5 years since I last cared about my so called family. Some say I’m a loner, but I prefer to think that I’m just really picky about who I associate with. I can appear cold and calculated, but I’m loyal to the end for those that I believe are worthy of it. I analyse things non-stop, I like to take my time, which sometimes causes others to be nervous, not knowing what I’m thinking and all that jazz. I like to think that’s part of my charm.