ooc:
Treading along the outskirts of these human remains filled her with more distress than the purpose of these meeting. To purposefully walk so close to the decay of a history better left forgotten made her feel as if she were strolling down the road to her own demise. A foreshadowing of the end that inevitably came to them all, but to be faced with it... to be approaching it now for all she knew was unsettling to her heart.
However, the disease was endured with a resilient heart, unwilling to exhibit a tell to this unpleasantness as she neared the meeting ground with Jace and Fatin in tow. Yet with the silence that followed, she was better left though it would have been unwise, to walk these steps toward death alone. The ways of the Exultare would have this no other way. But she no longer followed their deeply engraved steps. These that she took were not pre-marked by her Shepard but were of her own, fresh, dangerous and new. She had succumbed to its silent terror once before as she took her first steps from beneath the Nomad's shadow, and here she would do it again with the same, purposefully slow and careful pace.
Then the scent of the devil bid her to pause, her umber stalk quivering defiantly as they made to carry her forward still. Silently, she cast a glance over her shoulder to the following pair announcing in but a soft whine that this remaining stretch would be completed alone. But she was not truly alone as she proceeded forward, not with the overhanging shadow of an aloft body adorned with brilliant striped and speckled wings. The bird made his presence known in a piercing series and screeches and cries, following the she-wolf as she neared the Thistle King. Her auburn mane trailed in her wake as streams of blood would follow the dead marking her the victim to his undeserved cruelty. But while her eyes shrouded by red pleaded for the reason behind their invasion, she uttered no word for its sake. She pulled down and folded her haunches beneath her with a humble dip of her feather adorned head.
"Goodday to you," the soft voice of her taxed vocals came through, no more than an acute whisper to even the most defined ears. "I am X'yrin. An Exultare to the Nomads, and High Shepard to Ichika no Ho-en." Calmly, the she-wolf inhaled, committing the Salsolan scent to crystallized memory. "To whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?"