<span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype;">As he seemed to be surveying her, Q’Chae had half the mind to lower her arms and jiggle her chest at him. Perhaps it would be unseating, throwing him for an unexpected curve she would then ridicule with rather brusque laughter. For whatever reason, she stayed herself, tightening her elbows when he crossed his chest much the same, and there the two stood like stony aggressors. Men were a gender of profuse variation, if with antics that at times were without differ. She had dealt with human-male-kind on a detestably popular basis, and she did not find them amusing, not in the least. Her breed as well, were not amongst her most favored. Many of those with a certain attribute on their bodies thought themselves superior, and had not the issue dealing wry commands and snarky comments whenever it suited. She was inept at decreeing him the same, though the way he deemed things <span style="font-style: italic">not her concern</span> and told Q’Chae to <span style="font-style: italic">continue on your way</span> was enough to make likewise memories surface. There was a tickle on her tongue, a bur in her throat that cried for release, to spew argumentative venom and heel him with verbal kicks. Would he feed into her ploy? She was unsure, but as he walked around her, she decided it may have been a dull latter. <br/><br/>Onward he went, striding rather confidently, and she swished away, just as so. Her body felt rather odd. Her heart rambled with no falter, her lungs pumped easily and her toes and fingers were comfortable. The small show of teleportation she had mustered had about hurt, like the magic was no longer free-flowing, but instead horrendously blocked. The lightning zing that rode through her veins and put a glow to her eyes would seem absent, and a dark nimbus of worry clouded her conscience. In a pool of red, she looked down. Q’Chae appeared the same she always had: smooth-skinned and small, richly hued and crowned – at least since that night she had awoken, after their god was said to have visited. Her complexion lacked the glitter she was accustomed to, and as she traced fingers about her sockets, her glower was pale, sickly. There was no reason for her to feel woozy, and in truth, she should not have fled that Cyclops either. She should have battled, brought the monster to its bleeding knees without hassle…but she didn’t. Was it because she was unable? She brushed uneasily through her hair, shaping the unkempt locks, and that was when she heard an agonized breath. <br/><br/>The subsequent was armor colliding with malleable grass and soil, and Q’Chae could not keep herself from investigating. Fluid and feathery, she came overtop the weaponized log, spying instantly the man who cursed from his place on the ground. Q’Chae giggled, it was a sickening and iron sound, dulcet and skittering. What was this now? The human who moved so readily, airing a shroud of danger, now at the mercy of his own body? It was quite the development.<br/><br/>As a villainous cat would, she crawled toward him on all fours, winging her glossy tail back and fro. <span style="font-weight: bold">“Ebony?”</span> Q’Chae’s mind leapt here and there, kicking at increments of blurred memory that were of no use to her. All she could recall was the fact she was to be stronger than what she was, that there had been a war she valiantly participated in, and that humanity itself should have fallen. A broken battalion had been before her, across the wide and bloody front of amassed carcasses. What had they been composed of? Three mages and a wreath of shaking, exhausted soldiers? Demise was in their eyes, it dragged fissures upon their fear-teeming faces, and Q’Chae had known it was all over. It should have been, at least. The appearance of that man confused her to unknown heights. She padded up near to him, and had mind enough to straddle his torso and feed him a slew of inquiries. He turned himself however, struggling, and Q’Chae watched as a predator would, awaiting the clench of death to make its final squeeze. <span style="font-weight: bold">“It would seem <span style="font-style: italic">Ebony</span> is giving you gripe.”</span> Her lips bent nastily in smile. He contended with himself, descended from the shelf he had been on moment prior, and now rested there, cupped by the planet. He shifted to her then, and as she was close to him, his arm settled heavily on her shoulders. Q’Chae zeroed her focus on his face, searching yet again for nothing in particular. <span style="font-weight: bold">“Temple of Ebony? A worshipper, you are then.”</span> <br/><br/>She could desert him there, her features said this. What did Q’Chae mind returning favors? She lived not by the bows of chivalry or fairplay, she ran to the chords of her own dastardly harp and that was this. He did spike curiosity in her, a want to <span style="font-style: italic">know</span> and as of then, it was adequate in keeping her around. She gathered herself and stood, moving to keep him upright and close, and making it known that her chest could have been pressed to his side, should he lean into her. <span style="font-weight: bold">“This interests me,”</span> fanged verve peppered her pitch. She made sure to flash him a decadently horrible grin of wolfish teeth and then she began forward. <span style="font-weight: bold">“What are we? Offering respects? Direct prayer?”</span> She did not take her glance from his face, she made sure to peg him, and hard at that. She may not have been quite at the level of self she was previously, but was she ever the Q’Chae she had forever been. <span style="font-weight: bold">“I would spare the men I considered attractive,”</span> her nose wrinkled, <span style="font-weight: bold">“you may be, though you are making no pledge of it.”</span> There was a noise, a bristle and hum that her sensitive ears caught within seconds. It came from the trees at their inside, perchance no greater than a running wind, maybe the rustling amble of otherwise quiet snotlings. She did not miss a beat and was returned to him when the sound appeared to have dissipated. <span style="font-weight: bold">“Do we conceal something we lack?”</span></span>