<div class="floatleft">(http://www.sexybootsrule.com/sigs/mystrissfreya150x200.jpg)  </div><br/><br/><strong>Name~</strong>Freya<br/><br/><strong>When~</strong>September 15, mid afternoon<br/><br/><strong>Tagging~</strong>Belial, Caliroesis, Mara, Akira, Open<br/><br/><strong>Side Note~</strong><br/><br/><br/><br/><hr/><br/>Freya brought her face up from her cellphone, a curious invention of these human equivalents, perhaps even a bit more advanced than the recalls they had devised in her own place and time.  Useful little portable picture boxes, and currently of most use for her, the “map,” which Dr. Yameia had marked a location and begged her to visit when she was feeling need to unbind herself from the trappings they had forced onto her.  The phone found company with her glasses, pulled slow down the bridge of her nose as she studied the rather non-nondescript building.  There was a whisper, a shimmer of shifting atoms, her eyes followed the arc upward in wonder, in memory.  The barrier here did not seethe lilac hues from the touch of radiation but the similarities still gripped her and drew her eyes deeper into the thin ionization.  Protons and gluons twirled in their unending quantum dance with their partners like an invisible party on the Varshen Rift; and there, beyond the ethereal dance floor lay a simple doorway like so many others nearby. Intrigued and beguiled, she stepped through the barrier, a soft caress on her exposed skin, the noiseless hum of displacement that was both unsettling and spoke of protection from the only true threat upon this shifting crust; those mindless humans that bustled around nearby, yet… now seemed so far away.<br/><br/>As her hand pulled open the door an alarm was sounded, a tinkling alarm that weaved itself into the breathed and strummed notes of saxophone and bass that played softly in the background.  Her eyes made to sweep over the interior, so much like any other coffee shop, it earned a mental yawn at first.  Her head listed abruptly though, eyes caught and drawn to the soft curl of Mara’s horns like magnets.  She hadn’t believed Dr. Yameia to be frank, the man always felt of deception and withholding, he lied constantly as far as she could tell.  Still, there before her eyes was a glimmer of truth, of hope perhaps.  A spark lit within the metallic depths of her silvery eyes, giving off a hesitant warm glow beneath their thin covers.  Without conscious thought dark spirals parted the crimson nest of her hair like inky plant tendrils stretching up from blood fed soil toward the sun, only to fall swiftly down as mere shadows in the turn of her head.  Not yet, her trust was not going to be earned so simply.  This was likely a trap, a devious trickery to study her more fully, and the girl likely a collaborator.  Her eyes slid from one extreme to the other, searching for tell-tell wisps of hidden cameras and instruments; the barrier spoke of the human’s abilities to conceal, but she was far more aware of their attempted chameleons than they might ever know.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Her eyes settled then on the two men nearest to her at the door… no, not quite human, she leaned in slightly the point of her tongue came out in an almost snakelike quiver but for lacking a fork, a breath was inhaled deep through her nose.  Beilel and Akira both sensed of a vaguely different species…  An eyebrow moved as she studied them, a predatory slant casting a dark shadow over the gleam of one silvery eye before being forced to relax; no doubt it was bad form to hunt any of them, as everywhere else on this damned infested globe, plus she'd not show her hand to them.  Still, she silently thrilled to the scent and taste of them, her heart rate ticking upward at the momentary excitement of more natural inclines and physical hunts.  Both savoring and containing herself, she put on a bored smile, tiny fangs denting her bottom lip as if to press down her instincts.  She settled back onto her heels to observe the slightly familiar yet rather odd custom the two were engaged in with mild interest.   It seemed a line was formed here as in other places.  She was content to wait her turn for admittance.  Her eyes returned then to their mental hunt of the walls and ceiling, seeking out and stalling on various inconsistencies of texture and finish, of paint and coating.