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<b><u><span style="font-size: 22px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(251, 160, 38)">Tahira, "The endless tussle."</span></span></u></b>​</div><br/><br/><br/><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-family: 'Didact Gothic', 'sans-serif'"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(84, 172, 210)">Eyes of blue and green peered from a bronze balcony, the clocks' ticking comingled with the grinding of gears serving as a sonorous cacophony. The ballad of innovation was like a grand symphony. The expanse of bleached dunes stretched beyond the horizon as the kerfuffle of a debate from the street trailed to keen ears. Luscious lips curling into a simper as the shifting of the sand due to times waning influence had sowed discourse. Friction is necessary for progress, for it's through the fire and hammer that metal can be repurposed into an implement. Her hand gripped the railing while the lunar light perforated the veil of twilight. Stars were twinkling in the welkin as a gentle gelid breeze coursed between the spiraling bronze buildings. Locks of ashen hair whisked to its call before cascading downward as stray strands obfuscated her inquisitive gaze.<br/>
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The mood was contorting, demonstrating somewhat malleable as her expression bent to the influence of her third eye. Dreams within dreams, an endless expanse of worlds connected by the most narrow of bridges. The tapestry of fate being plucked, the fleeting of one of her kind vexing the mind. She was exasperated by the fact she recognized this baneful spirit, this mischievous cur witlessly traversing the abyss separating worlds. Djinns were fickle, their mind able to resonate with one another across a vast distance. The epiphany was anything but melodious, more akin to the clashing of brass instruments while she withdrew into her home. <br/>
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This laboratory housed many trinkets, discoveries wrought through blood and transudation. She was combing endless dusty tombs to further her scope. Tahira's curvaceous form was now exposed, marred by the failures of preceding scuffles. The elf was changing her raiment, putting on a more battle-appropriate attire. Tahira's fingers were combing through her mane while the inquisitor meandered within lavished halls. The elf reached the golden adorned vestibule of her sanitarium. She peered over her shoulder, bequeathing the abode one definitive glance. A gloved hand was extending for the knob of brass, twisting and pushing the barrier open, stepping beyond its gaped maw, sealing the door shut once past the threshold. <br/>
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The serpentine streets of metal were patrolled by the shambling corpses and their masters while steam discharged from the grates. The din of her boots making their way to the stable near the city's limits echoed, divulging her approach. Tahira melded with the eventide, only to reemerge into the rays of artificial crystal light, exiting the sanctuary of erected walls, as she rode on the back of a giant beetle, her loyal steed. The portal between realms was a well-kept secret, eluding the comprehension of most. Yet this hound of the state wasn't like the common rabble, nor was she comparable to the gelatinous nobility that plagued this sullen realm.<br/>
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The ashen wolf was quite the unique breed with unprecedented aspirations that governed her actions. Why vex over one stray spirit? Because a wrathful Djinn can prove quite the blight, and the thought that someone may link it to her world was nettlesome. The empire thrived notwithstanding the chaotic rule of the Queen, yet prosperity comes in seasons. Across the near-infinite dreams were eyes ravenous by nature, hungrily gazing out for new worlds to subjugate. This senseless soul could bring the ire of a nation within these arid borders if it managed to cause harm. The beast of burden barreled forward, its pulsating belly was gorging itself on the magical properties emitted from the grainy bosom of the sands—sustenance propelling the organism forward, as the elf would find her way toward the sea of knolls.<br/>
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Within the epicenter of the wasteland, where few dare tread, even the most hearty of adventurers, she rested for a moment. She was reaching into her pocket, pulling out a soft fabric like a towel to wipe sweat from her tidied brows, chugging down some of the water she had brought to thwart the parching of lips. Her dainty fingers ran across the carapace of her bestial friend, this partner, while not sentient, it still had a whimsical perspective of the pale beauty. Its carapace was as black as night, as the soft underbelly seemed lined with organic material, crimson in hue that like air sacs expanded outward before contracting. The hulking scarab marching onward as the two would inevitably stand at the center, Tahira's fingers snapping the sand around them vanished, the pinkish light of the rising sun eclipsed by absolute gloom.<br/>
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The swarthy curtain was robbing one of sight, the deprivation maddening, following the residual energy left behind, like a ghost trapped in time. The laws of reality differed within this void, the sense of nothingness palpable. The harrowing experience troubling the beetle, yet it wouldn't last. Within that space between space, time ceased to function outside of its chasm. Yet, within, the process felt like hours. The heartlessness of that space giving way, evaporating as the link between their dream resounded. Striking a chord through a complex network of frequencies permitted the two to infiltrate that foreign veil. However, the process did not proceed without a hurdle or two. Dimensional travel was a complicated affair. If facile, then all planes of existence within the dream would have been linked already.<br/>
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The dawning turbulence vehemently shook the two beings, their very cells vibrating in the most excruciating ways. While outside, time remained locked in torpidity while transmitting oneself through those blackened halls. Once they reached the zenith, the compression unfurled as time vaulted forward. The exact passage was unknown, though, enough to permit the other spirit a head start. The darkness cracking, as the depravity of one's soul within the void dissipated. The wailing brought on by nothingness never got easier with time. Her pearly fangs were grinding against one another as grunts stoked by agony bellowed forth from juicy lips—the light beyond blindingly immersing the scene, as both shielded their oculus. From oblivion, everything germinated into being.<br/>
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Standing now within the wilderness, the labyrinth of trees stretching onward as the soft call of winged beasts reverberated. The birds were roosting within the branches, their rustling shade affording respite, allowing Tahira to repose herself. Those armored hands were grasping the reins as she ordered her friend onward. The beetle was lumbering forward sluggishly, its oafish approach facetious to observe. The change in magic, the gravity of this planet alongside other natural forces, be them greater or lesser, taking time for both of them to acclimatize to. The foliage rubbing against legs and chitin while the beast of burden strolled into the brush. Ultimately, the two found a path. A road cut naturally due to the traffic of the local wildlife and indigenous folk who called this quaint world home.<br/>
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Her steed's mandibles colliding several times as a hand caressed the top of the thorax, the jubilant creature proving contagious as Tahira smiled. Her arcane-tinged lanterns inspecting down the road, tapering as the trail of her officious brother, while subtle, didn't escape her notice. The exact location concealed from her vision, yet the third eye tucked away from the flesh had enough acumen to deconstruct and gather the general direction—radiant columns from the sun slipped between the green leaves, rendering warmth to the vampire. The humid air was a far cry from the arid landscape of her home as the two continued with merriment down the path. The mind was left to wander, evaluating various outcomes and potential ramifications for this intrusion—Tahira's heart beating like a drum.<br/>
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The strangers within a strange land were out of their element. This confoundment led the inquisitor to suffer from sightlessness regarding how this plane operated. Ignorance and complacency were two predators she often eschewed, determining their company less than elfin. The ditty rhythm of their unremitting stride juxtaposing impeccably with the natural ambiance as they incessantly prowled across the scene. The sun's setting inspired them to solicit shelter. Tahira set up camp away from the road, taking refuge within the wilds while stalwart gaze remained vigilant. Her own body's physiology was unique as sleep, thirst, and hunger took much longer to have a toll on her. The rest was necessary for her insect. Leaning against the bark of a nearby oak, she closed those eyelids and hearkened to nature's cries.<br/>
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The chirping of crickets resonated, bouncing off the acoustics of the woodlands as the frigid night air invigorated goosebumps to dart across her soft skin. The camouflage of nightfall working both ways as her eyes adjusted to the night. The evening sequentially expired as the dew-kissed the blades of grass. The vampire was stirring her mount from slumber as it pushed out hot air from its extremities. It languidly rose while the natural energy of the land kept kindling the creature. While not as dense as that of her motherland, this region's magical properties established itself as enough to prevent starvation. Their travels were recommencing as the moisture adhering to the brush stained their skin and exoskeleton, the pair once more trodding down the muddy, lonesome road. <br/>
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The crisp cerulean sky was holding up while the sun lagged across the firmament. For nine days, they repeated this process, cleaning clothes in the river, drying them off with a spell, gathering water, fending off the beast, receiving prying glares, and cowing a few bandits. The dried salted meat she packed providing nourishment, while not a delicacy by any stretch of the imagination, it did suffice.  On the morning of the ninth, the mer could feel they were close. Tahira held up a polished silvery mirror, combing her hair, beautifying herself with the makeup of crushed plants, cactus, fungi, minerals, and insects. The ritual of maintaining her ravishing visage proving somewhat therapeutic, even if no one was around to revel in the fruits of her labor. Once more, the scarab would shake off th hold of atrophy, shuffling to its feet as it wiggled that thorax. <br/>
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The two were now approaching the city, passing beyond the opened gates maw as they would traverse through the cobbled streets. The capricious nature of this alien world exhibiting itself as rather bewitching. The beetle mount would be tied to a nearby post. Tahira's armored hips were swaying while the elf sauntered across the scene. Vibrant orbs inspected nearby signs. Finally, she denoted a bar, an establishment of iniquity that may conceivably provide much-needed work or erudition. She was pushing the tavern door open as the quaint establishment reeked of self-intoxication. The ocherous hue of a crackling fire, the darkroom proving hospitable as an employee called out to the foreigner. She gave the man a humble salaam, maintaining the posture for a brief moment before rising upright. <br/>
</span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(247, 218, 100)"><i>"I would like an empty booth, or any leads pertaining to work or odd happenings?" </i></span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(84, 172, 210)"><br/>
Tahira placidly expressed with an austere sense that equally permeated from her posture. Her precise lingua's utterance carried with it a sultry tone, almost reposeful by nature. As if to charm or enchant away the quandaries weighing this seasoned soul.<br/>
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This land, its decorum reflected the opulence it had reveled in. Scarcely had Tahira witnessed such wealth and "safety." Security, a frequently solicited after illusion, was the grandest swindle of all.  This realization conferred with it tension, those whetted senses persisting ever observant.  Something was awry, that, or she manage to stumble upon some haven.  The kerfuffle of drunks, the chortling of merriment when juxtaposed with their foreign garbs, dispatched an unsettling truth. Tahira, for all of her posturings, was a fish slung from the water.<br/>
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The vampire's original plan to procure information might illustrate itself ever more taxing. The chasm that divided them superseded in scale that between the soil and the heaven's above. Those feline pupils studied the room, their shifting hue of emerald and aquamarine like that of the surface of a placid lake. The employee, whoever they were, ogled at her attire. The samurai platings, fur, and ysstmar scales flouted against all convention fashion trends. That blade was sheathed and secured to her wide hips. They were alongside the hooks, required to pry a head from the body of a contract. It only promoted either the atmosphere of occultism or palpable dread.<br/>
</span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(97, 189, 109)">"What kind of work?"</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(84, 172, 210)"> The man inquired before diligently tending to the scouring of beer glasses. His voice cracked, exposing a bit of apprehension.  </span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(97, 189, 109)">"What do you do for a living?"</span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(84, 172, 210)"><br/>
Tahira looked at him from the corner of her eyes, those expressive jewels tapering as if to scrutinize. What was her vocation? Was this man obtuse minded or was this some form of jeering? No, it was imprudent to assign malice when ineptitude would suffice. </span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(247, 218, 100)"><i>"I'm an exterminator..." </i></span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(84, 172, 210)"><br/>
The tender paused, an expression of befuddlement cementing itself on his middle-aged face. Plenty of inquests swirled within that head of his; however, he demurred over whether or not he wanted the answers. "I see..." He sighed heavily, gently placing one of the glasses on the counter. </span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(97, 189, 109)">"What do you exterminate?"</span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(84, 172, 210)"><br/>
That response was off. His lingua carried with it a defensive charge. The tautness was elevating, ionizing the very molecules so that her oral muscle could taste it. did she pinch a nerve? It was conceivable, but how? Tahira, for all her powers of investigation, would be incapable of surmising the wolf's den she had lurched into. Her attire rustled, while those armored gloves grasped a chair as she dragged it from the counter, only to roost. Those arcane imbued eyes were peering over at the woman. A bars maid? No, she wasn't dressed like one. Tahira veered her attention, steering stoically into the man from earlier eyes. <br/>
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<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(247, 218, 100)"><i>"Threats..." </i></span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(84, 172, 210)">One hand cooly deviated to her blade's handle, rapping against it while the free one did the same to the polished wooden surface. <br/>
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<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(97, 189, 109)"><span style="font-family: 'Didact Gothic', 'sans-serif'">"What are you on about? Threats? What are you a private investigator or a hitman or something?" </span></span><br/>
<span style="font-family: 'Didact Gothic', 'sans-serif'"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(84, 172, 210)"><br/>
Tahira said nothing at first, perceiving now the futility of her situation. </span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(247, 218, 100)"><i>"I'll take that as a no? Have you seen any odd strangers lately?"</i></span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(84, 172, 210)"></span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(97, 189, 109)">"Other than you? None."</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(84, 172, 210)"> He chuckled, poking fun at this outlandish voyager. She said nothing of his rudeness, enduring his abrasive approach for the time being. </span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(97, 189, 109)">"Are you going to buy something or just stare at me while looking pretty?"</span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(84, 172, 210)"></span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(247, 218, 100)"><i>"Depends, do you take gold?" </i></span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(84, 172, 210)">The bartender blinking, throwing up his hand before wandering off. <br/>
</span></span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(97, 189, 109)"><span style="font-family: 'Didact Gothic', 'sans-serif'">"Gold? Who carries gold doubloons on them these days? This bar is for paying customers only! I am going to see if anyone needs anything; someone else can deal or shoo away that woman."</span></span><br/>
<span style="font-family: 'Didact Gothic', 'sans-serif'"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(84, 172, 210)"><br/>
The elf said nothing, sulking in thought. As much as she'd love to make him grovel in pain for his rudeness, she didn't want to chance rousing the ire of this settlement. A wise hunter studies their prey first, knows the lay of the land, and then prepares the trap.  And, while in those eyes he was a nincompoop, she lacked the other components. Then there was that pesky matter of her code. Whatever, if this turned out to be a waste of time, she'd have to rove off somewhere else to seek greener pastures.</span></span></span>