Hair swished against a faded olive green sweatshirt as a woman, who was more akin to a pixie in size than a normal human, walked along the sidewalks almost like a dancer would. Her MP3 could be heard by anyone who was a foot or so away from her, but only as an excuse. Her ears didn't like it, yet it still felt weird to walk through the blurred shapes that moved. Some were shuffling like the zombies in a movie she had seen a couple nights before with  some co-workers as an excuse to get out of her stale apartment. Too bad Tauklii wouldn't let her enjoy it. . .<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFFBF">The living dead doth not shuffle their feet like a child who hath done wrong! Neither doth they possess such a disagreeable palor! You humans hath the strangest minds when it cometh to this sorcery. . .</span>Excetra, excetra, excetra.<br/><br/>The woman slid her hands into the pockets of her loose jeans as she nodded her head to the beat of the music, turning on her heel so that another shadowy figure could dash past her. No one paid her any mind. She was just another person, listening to music, trying to retain heat against the crisp autumn air. Glancing up, it appeared that a small collection of people had surrounded a simple light post. From what she could see, there was an advertisement for the purchasing of junk cars, a lost kitten poster with a picture that looked almost exactly like the mangled patch of fur on the side of the road she had passed by earlier that day, and. . .<br/><br/>"Heroes Wanted" Tauklii's intrest was instantly aroused when that bit of information was passed onto him. The woman could feel his golden mane brush a spot just behind her eyes as he looked at the posting. "Men and women gifted with special abilities in any form. Weather you've learned it through extensive training or the gift was granted to you by either divine powers or by accident. You are needed to protect the weak, up hold the weary, and bring the wicked to justice."<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Well Tauklii, shall we risk it?</span>she asked her companion of sorts. She was hoping he would say yes. Between her job as a nursing home assistant and the usual stuff - eating, sleeping, and paying the bills on time - there wasn't a who lot to do. Besides, she did want to get better with her gift.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFFBF">. . . What if this be a trap?</span>he replied. She could sense that he wanted to, maybe it had to do with protecting the weak or something like that.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">And what if it isn't?</span>the woman argued.<span style="font-style: italic">There's contact information here and everything. I'm sure we'll know if it's a trap or not before we arrive.</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFFBF">We shalt never have such an opportunity for thine and mine enemies to plan accordingly.</span>Tauklii replied softly with centuries of sadness in his voice. The woman quickly put a mental barrier between her physical self and Tauklii, lest she become overwhelmed by his emotions.<br/><br/>"I promise to be careful. Besides, something like this doesn't happen everyday," the woman whispered to both herself and her companion. And with that, they set off to a Ellam Entalist's house.<br/><br/>It was not a house. It was an estate that had nestled itself into the mountain, almost as if it didn't like the world outside it's granite walls. The pillars were grand and looked like they had been transported through time from Egypt in its glory. The entrance hall wasn't too crowded, by both the living and the dead, so she felt a sense of relative ease as she waited for something to happen. After a few minutes of surveying the area and easily sliding away from the fuzzy outlines of the dead, she decided to follow the flow of the people.<br/><br/>"Hmm. Looks like an interview," she mused as she waited patiently with Tauklii in line. Tauklii hated lines.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFFBF">What be it today? The Occupation Festival?</span>he growled with impatience. The woman let out a soft giggle.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">It's called a Job Fair, and no, it isn't. Try to chill.</span>she retorted. With a bit of careful maneuvering, she had made it into the place where a gaudily dressed woman was inquiring about the names of everyone. Much to Tauklii's pleasure, she kept quiet and simply stood next to a young man who had proclaimed himself to be Mathew.