3+

Her morning was dampened only by her own thoughts. It'd been a week, one whole week, since she'd joined the ranks of Cercatori d'Arte. Each day offered new discoveries. Of course, each new discovery was hampered with the encroaching idea that she might lose the unique Russo male to some other female. Orin Takekuro. Though she knew better than anyone that Mars and Bartholomew were two distinct personalities, they shared the same body and they shared the same mind. Just separate parts. She couldn't deny that it bothered her, immensely, to hear that either of them were interested in another lady. I think she reminds him of you, Barty said. The Latina doubted that. She'd never felt as close to Mars as she'd hoped to be.

Careful fingers gathered together empty papers and refinished books, some filled with stories and some waiting for her charcoal to hit them with words. Everything was shoved into the loose bag she carried outside of her home. Her pace was quick; she didn't want to stick around while in a bad mood, certainly not if it meant interacting with Bartholomew or Mars and getting questioned. It was awkward enough for her to admit she was wrong for feeling jealous. To actually talk about it would be emotionally disturbing.

So she fled the lands. Her feet carried her south, following a path she'd taken earlier in the week, to the pennisula. She just wanted to get away, from her own thoughts and from everyone else. Shawchert had asked why she'd followed him, and then if she'd considered finding her own home. It'd certainly made her think. Did she want to live with the Russo, or did she want to be alone? With Mars, it meant she'd have the chance for painful realization. If he decided to pursue that Orin woman, she would have no place. She wasn't going to live in a home with Mars and his mate, or any of their children; thinking about it brought undesired tears to her eyes.

Each step brought her closer to the shore. At first, she didn't notice the golden-brown male who was resting on the rocks, but it quickly came to her attention. A hurried hand wiped her pink eyes clear of tears, unwilling to let a stranger see her upset. Silent with the exception of a very loud snuff, she sat on the rocks further away. It was time to finish her newest piece, a story about a beautiful Luperci hated by an evil Queen. The charcoal made soothing noises against the pages of the book she'd pulled from the bag. Her mouth touched the apple, teeth biting in to the red skin, and a sense of unease passed through the young woman.

She was interrupted by the sudden words from what she had thought to be a sleeping male. Apparently she was only half right. His curiosity made him ask about what she wrote, and it brightened her thoughts to think someone else might share her affinity for the written language. She twirled the piece of charcoal between her dusted fingers, pink eyes giving a sideways glance at the golden-brown male. She was about to reply, but he burst forth with introductions; J'adore Austral, from AniWaya. AniWaya. Her mind tossed the word over. AniWaya had been the home of the handsome cream-white Nayati Utina. Her sorrowed features pulled into a vaguely cheerful expression.

"Mi llamo Krystalle. From Cercatori d'Arte," she countered. The Spanish dripped off her tongue easily, more comfortable than English to the Latin mutt. Cercatori was a good place. Shawchert had proven a kind male, and she was quite fond of him. It was Mars who made her yearn for Nakzhi, and the other Children. Someone who understood, and people who loved her, even if they thought a little differently. She turned her face back to the book, another line going down onto the page. "It's a story my papa told us when I was little. My sister liked it. She liked a lot of his stories. The humans where I lived, they called it 'Blanca Nieves'. I found books with it, but I left them behind." It was a horrible loss, to leave all of those books back in her home.

"It's kinda quiet out, huh, mi querido? What are you doing out here?" The book closed, resting on her lap. Her body shifted to face J'Adore, floppy ears twitching and wiggling at the sounds around them. The sea was a beautiful thing, and calmed her easily. Better to keep her mind away from Mars.

3+

Her white-tipped finger rose to rub behind one of her floppy ears, watching the golden wolf as he shifted his weight and gripped the rocks. He spoke of Halifax, the city she knew to be an abandoned place farther north; she hadn't searched the library when she visited last, more content on finding furniture rather than literature. Even still, the mutt hadn't found much of anything. It had been a wasted visit.

J'Adore was out walking, exploring, and turned back to mention he had a friend within the ranks of Cercatori d'Arte. It didn't strike her as odd, though she didn't ask for more questions; he seemed almost shy as he spoke of the hidden 'friend'. Krystalle merely nodded and smiled, brushing bleached bangs back out of her pink eyes. "Mi amigo lives in AniWaya, so I suppose we have something in common. Sorta. Like, opposite in common, ch'know?" Another bright laugh escaped the doggish woman. Anything could be found funny as long as she approached it correctly, even her own bad jokes.

The charcoal scratched at the paper as she continued her story of Blanca Nieve and her run from the evil step mother Queen. There was nothing better than retelling one of the fairy tales her father had instilled in her; if she could share them with the world, she would. Everyone should read, and know the beauty of written word, even if it meant lots of teaching. She didn't mind that idea at all.

"So you're just explorin', huh? I've tried to explore, ain't really found much. Mostly I stay with Mars," she admitted. She left Cercatori long enough to see new things, but her days were spent with the unique male she'd fallen in love with months before. Mars himself had never felt so comfortable to her as Bartholomew, but they were each wonderful in their own way.

Kinda crappy. Sorry.

She rubbed the back of her ear and watched him jot down some lines in his own book, her curiosity letting her watch but not speak. Instead, she closed her own unfinished masterpiece and shoved it away, just as the golden Austral asked a question of her homeland. "From Nakzhi. It's small, in the desert." Her home, within the borders of Nevada, was unknown to the outside world. Close knit, they spoke nothing of their culture, and outsiders were not allowed to tread their territory. But she hadn't stayed, and she wondered if it was still the same; there was no doubt Anchjo had kept it exactly as it was when she fled to California.

One white-tipped hand rubbed at a pink eye and she focused on J'Adore. "I went to San Solace in Mexico for a while; is where mi madre lives." She hadn't stayed there either, in the cold and unwelcoming pack that had lent her the bias she now held. Pack. So cold, so dark. Family was simply better. It offered warmth, rather and distress. She clearly remembered the world within San Solace, with the Santos family she'd been born of. She couldn't claim them as her family. Not with the way they interacted. After living in the close-knit Nakzhi, anything else was simply weird.

He spoke of his thoughts, mostly about his family. She couldn't feel the same about it. Anchjo managed to invade her psyche and dreams, but it wasn't a daily thing, certainly not. After years away from them, she didn't need them. She was her own woman, without true closeness to Nakzhi or the extended family within it. It was as if she had no parents, born Krystalle Horzana from the sea like Aphrodite had been; she'd seen images of that divine painting, and read stories of the Greek myths surrounding the Goddess of love and beauty. She could be Aphrodite. She could have no parents. She might as well have none, anyways.

The Latin looked skyward, rubbing at her cream-hued throat before adjusting the leather jacket she wore tight against her chest. Cool air brushed against the insides of her ears as they flopped backwards over her head, giving a rather goofy look to her already out-of-place design. Her pink eyes closed until the voice of J'Adore reached her once again. Who had she met from AniWaya? She gave a shrug. "Nayati Utina. Helped find wood 'n blankets for the tribe. Handsome man. Real nice." The smile that colored her features brightened the rest of her face.

Crappy post. Sorry.

She wouldn't deny that Nayati had not taught her the stories of AniWaya. The two had been far more concerned with finding the necessary supplies required to better the tribe to exchange stories; all they truly touched on apart from blankets and wood had been his distaste for the once-human settlement. The Latin shook her head in J'Adore's direction at his question, returning her eyes somewhere toward the sky afterward. She had been curious about the tribe as they'd returned to the borders, Senorita and Iye leading the way.

J'Adore disclosed his own task within AniWaya, as a tender of the 'Great Fire'. Again, she turned her attention toward the golden male, far more curious than she had been previously. "Great Fire?" Nakzhi taught nothing of fires, using deities to express common things in the world like rainfall. The talk of stories left her in a wonder as well; she leaned toward him, tugging out one of her blank books to log anything he spoke of for her own records. White-tipped fingers brushed platinum bangs out of her face to give her the best sight of the strange Spaniard. "Explain."