Retrieving some culture (but I don't have to like it) {Echo}

[Ebele Magoro]

The building looked like it would fall apart in a matter of decades, maybe less, maybe more, or maybe like a scar it would remain the way it was. The background looked like someone had pissed and bled all over it simultaneously, which very well could have happened, considering where the theater was located. Rust and old age were the terminal ills in this place. The flat depths in the walls blocked the sandy vastness of roads and dead fields, which wasn't preferable, and the faded movie titles were almost not readable. The Fulsi often talked about this hideous place, talking about sudsers or comedies or action flicks they used to watch outside the Menagerie, and here it reminded them of those time. Nostalgia was abundant here. Memories were abundant here. The chairs neatly sat in rows, still somewhat comfortable, and the size housed many of them at a time, if they wished.

Ebele hated the Iron Curtain on sight.

She blamed it on the fact that she had never seen a movie in her life. Growing up in the wilds of Africa and educated in a small, underfunded school, Ebele didn't even possess a radio or anything. She had no idea what anyone was talking about when they discussed music, movies, or any sort of media other than books and newspapers. She knew she wouldn't see the appeal of such a place, but Ebele had nothing better to do but wander, too young for any proper responsibilities, according to her elders. This annoyed Ebele, but she thought she could learn things being by herself. She was, but she didn't care about what the Iron Curtain had to offer her. She didn't even know where to start.

Something kept her here, what exactly she wasn't sure. Maybe because it was big and for now, empty, so therefore it was quiet. Ebele often liked to be alone with her own thoughts, sitting quietly until she found truths within herself. Meditation kept her sane; it let her forget the empty crawling space in her chest that she knew Faraji was responsible for. She could still hear her brother's whispers, and Ebele told herself he had spoken these words before. That they were just vivid memories. Ebele was a girl of logic and reasoning, and only her brother remained something she couldn't explain, even after his death. There was no 'I' or 'me' with him. There was only 'we' and 'us.,' even when the two of them were separated. She crossed her legs, thinking. She didn't know what she was still doing here, but she closed her eyes and thought as quickly as she could. Film. How does it work? She had read about it somewhere...

Memory recall. It was her therapy just as much as brain exercise. It overwhelmed the darker places in Ebele, letting them shrink until they felt it safe to come out again. Ebele's chest never felt like it would cave in when she performed this exercise.

"Film," she muttered under her breath, furrowing her eyebrows. "Started hundreds of years ago..."

OOC: Hey look, I did it. You jerk XD
    

[Echo]

Echo awoke with a start. Judging by the slow rising sun toward the East, she must have passed out after another night of galavanting around the Fulsiring Heights as per usual. After a couple minutes of re-orienting herself with her surroundings, Echo remembered that she abandoned the company of her usual sketchy cohorts at the Mana Springs Mall sometime late in the evening. Judging by the soreness in her limbs and bruising in both her wrists, and the tightness coming from where her ribs would be, Echo must have wandered into one of the more unsavory parts of Fulsiring where street fighting ran rampant. She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion for a minute before noticing her right hand was still clutched around a bottle. Turning it over, Echo smirked in understanding. Good ol' Jack Daniels.

The dizzinesss and nausea greeted her like an old friend and pushed her to see if there was any whiskey left, hoping to alleviate her first hangover in months. Alcohol in of itself was not a common commodity in The Menagerie but Echo had her sources, both in and out of Fulsiring that made up one of her many secrets. This particular bottle was a treasure, one that had remained unopened since it was made and packaged somewhere around 2014 according to the source that smuggled it in for her. Echo never had much to offer up as a trade because she was not much of a scavenger and because nothing valuable remained unclaimed for long. What she did have was an art in seduction and a knack for keeping her ears low to the ground.

Very few Fulsi men could resist oggling her and even fewer could speak in intelligent sentences after she saunters up to them, traces her hands down their arms, subtly presses up against them, stares deep into their eyes, and speaks to them in her best sultry voice. Then they were putty in her hands. Sometimes, Echo would have to distract and disarm women as well in order to gain information on the next drop or intel she could use to "sell" to local gangs on their rivals in exchange for substances, food, and freedom to trespass whenever she pleased. No matter who it had to be, male or female, Echo would work her charm. For the Jack Daniels, all Echo needed to trade was a quickie behind the mall. From there, it was a blur with snippets of dancing, drinking and fighting that led Echo to the sorry excuse of a building in front of her known as The Iron Curtain. According to what Echo had heard among other Fulsi, The Iron Curtain used to be something called a movie theater.

The significance of the name eluded her though it had to mean something clever, she assumed. Having grown up in a rural and barren village without any access to culture or formal education, Echo could never appreciate such relics like The Iron Curtain. The discoloring, rusting and general disarray of this antique of a building only made Echo turn her lips up and smash her eyebrows together. To think this place used to be an attraction and venue for entertainment just perplexed her. In spite of this, however, Echo still had a lingering headache and the brightening sky only made it worse so she decided to screw it and walk in, hoping for some dark solitude in the old theater though not knowing what to expect seeing as this would be her first time in a theater at all. 

Entering The Iron Curtain, Echo glanced around in awe and bewilderment; her eyes drawn to the enormous black screen, the rows of seats, faded carpet flooring going up and down each aisle, and various Cold-War themed decor lining the walls. The pictures and memorabilia meant nothing to her though it seemed like from the outside of the theater and the inside layout that the owner went for a thematic look. In spite of the emptiness and visible signs of age, Echo felt a tug in her heart and wondered what it must have been like to visit this place when the Iron Curtain came alive for its patrons-what they would be coming to experience. Somehow, amidst her thoughts and observations, Echo had wandered into a random seat in a row toward the back. As she sat down, the seat made an audible squeak before Echo was once again greeted with silence. For several moments, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the peace that came with it but when she opened them again, Echo swore a flash of movement caught her eye which was confirmed as a dark figure made their way to a seat a couple of rows down from her. Curiousity sparked but Echo decided to watch and observe for a moment before coming closer, close enough to see who this figure was and what brought them here. Maybe it was one of her night-time companions or an intel source.

Or maybe it was just another wandering Fulsi like herself. Either way, Echo would not approach without caution. After seeing the stranger sit in silence for several moments, and feeling satisfied that they seemed harmless and seeking a place to rest like herself, she made her way down to a row behind the figure and could conclude the figure was dark-skinned and female. How do I engage her without being creepy or startle her into an defensive position? Echo tossed and turned her options before finally just deciding to tap her on the shoulder and say "Hello, what brings you here into this dark and abandoned place?" If this person decided to attack out of defense, Echo still had the sentimental dagger hidden in her pants that she could whip out to give herself a second to turn and flee. She certainly did not feel up to a fight in her current state. 


OOC: I did it too! :D Enjoy

[Ebele Magoro]

Ebele stopped reciting mid-breath, and her muscles stiffened her skin from tensing so much. She still wasn't used to being on guard, spending all of her life in schools or, the past two years, being nursed back to health and then experimented on in the Keepers' laboratory that she forgot much of the animal side of her, like her instincts. She learned in a book that cats had uncanny skill at ambushing and fleeing in equal measure, as ironic as that was, and Ebele had never appreciated the utility until she was dumped in the Menagerie. The only time she transformed outside of this world was when she was dying, and her father was forced to turn her into the Keepers. After that, she had transformed many times for the Keepers, almost none of them by choice. The great shame of Ebele's current life, something that almost stopped her from joining ANY ring (the Fallen like her mother wanted to, and the Fulsi) was that she could not control her shifting, even at fourteen years old. She felt the cat lurking in the shadows of her mind, deep in her DNA, but she didn't know the first thing of catching it and letting it free. It had gotten her in trouble once. She barely escaped death because she could not run fast like her serval cat could. Ever since, she swallowed her pride and didn't venture far from the Ring's territory, and she was on constant watch.

Ebele's nostrils expanded, and she couldn't locate where the smell was coming from (although her serval form almost certainly could, she thought with resentment) she knew what it was. Alcohol. Spirits were even harder to come by in the agricultural poverty of Kenya, her birthplace, and at fourteen years old she never had much interest in it in the first place. Ebele had read about the buffoons who went crazy or drank themselves to death, and Ebele liked to believe she held herself above such trivial matters. Regardless, Ebele knew plenty of her Ring members drank, or would if they could, so Ebele was often forced to keep her opinions of the matter to herself. The last time she did, scorn that could have melted the tissue off her bones was her response. That was often the response to Ebele's options of debate, although she had better luck with the Fulsi Ring than any outsider. Outsiders often were more interested in trying to kill her.

Ebele had seen a serval once, in the plains beyond her school when she walked home. Now, she wished she had been closer. She could only identify it based on its small size and large ears; every other detail, including its spots, had been blurred. She had never seen herself in shifted form and probably never would, due to her erratic control of it. Her inability to shift consistently was the only shame of her life. The smell of alcohol grew stronger, as if someone walked into the building. Her neck stiffened, and she didn't want to turn around. She didn't want to know if it was friend or foe. She was too deep in her own thoughts to pay much attention, and besides, in a closed place like this, if it was a foe, she would be dead soon enough.

That would be a shame.

Anaya's smiling face came into her mind uninvited, and as usual, Ebele was unaffected by it. She used to love her mother, but Anaya's ability to abandon her family without discussion, even though her father had saved both their lives, was unforgivable. Dakarai's solemn face came next, and as usual again, it shook Ebele to her core. She had to find him. But she wouldn't be able to until she could transform safely. The world out there was far too dangerous and she wouldn't do Dakarai any favors if she died out there. Ebele's stomach pitted at a frequent thought. Dakarai could already be dead. It could be a wasted voyage.

Don't think like that.

The smell became overpowering, and it interrupted Ebele's thoughts. She turned at the same time as receiving a tap on the shoulder, finally brave enough, and the following words made her spring backwards, utilizing the flight aspect of her shift. Ebele frantically tried to memorize how her muscles contracted and lengthened, how fur grew over her skin, how her features morphed into that of a cat. Ebele had jumped high before transforming, and the cat -- transformation was so erratic that she called it as if it was different from her -- had spun mid-air and landed gracefully on her paws before slouching low to the ground. It was, without a doubt, the most impressive thing Ebele had done since being let into the Menagerie, and she let out a low growl at the intruder in both an attempt to keep her at a distance and to hide the fact that she was surprised that she could even do that.

"What are you doing here?" The alcohol scent burned her nostrils in this form, but she could also smell the familiar smell of her fellow Ring. She relaxed, but only a fraction. It was a silly question, anyone had a right to be here, but Ebele had wanted to be alone. Most were fine leaving her alone, anyway, and this disconcerted her. She hadn't met this girl before, and she figured there was a good reason why: the girl had deep circles under her eyes that looked like bruises, and actual bruises elsewhere. Her skin was a patchwork of colors, something that made Ebele grateful for her darker skin. White skin still disconcerted her; she hadn't seen it until coming here. It suddenly struck her that she didn't know much about the world, not really, even with all her studying, and it took being trapped in an oversized, glorified, dangerous cage for her to realize this. Ebele knew it would be the ultimate irony of her life, and she could only go up from here.

"You look terrible," Ebele said, not giving up her defensive position. Her muscles ached in the position, not being so used to them, but she ignored them. "Smell it, too."

OOC: Hopefully she doesn't seem like a total weakling. She's young and naive, but she's got a strength from what's she gone through and I HOPE the latter comes out a little...

[Echo]

Before her eyes, Echo witnessed what to her looked like a seamless transformation from a dark-skinned and apprehensive woman into a beautiful serval. She realized it was a defensive mechanism and that she should listen to the instantaneous fight or flight response, deep within her being. If the serval fled, her clouded leopard, beneath the surface would urge her to chase but if she sensed aggression, Echo would back off and attempt to leave unharmed. It was not in her nature to seek fights or to enjoy the thrill of the kill, plus if Echo's assumptions were correct on this particular woman, there would be no fight or power struggle here, this serval didn't appear to want to size her up or look for weaknesses to exploit-as is her bread and butter. No. This serval shifter, although startled, seemed more curious and just a little annoyed that Echo interrupted her solitude. Not to mention, this close up, Echo could finally tell that this is another Fulsi. Normally, her sense of smell was acute given her feline tendencies, but the overwhelming lingering of the whiskey she consumed last night is all she could notice. Plus, the accompanying migraine that followed her hangover proved to block off her other finely-trained senses.



A thought occured to her then. Maybe, given the fact this old theater is left to decay, there would be a few fulsi Junkies that conducted business here. Maybe there were some painkillers lying around. Not likely since drugs aren't easy to come by as it is, but the thought somehow made the pain more bearable. Echo realized she must have spaced out and sharpened her focus once more on this stranger in front of her. She heard a question directed at her, 'What are you doing here?" Echo could feel the weight of the serval's gaze as she gave her the once-over after realizing that Echo was not advancing toward her in a threatening demeanor. Although she could sense this wouldn't end in a brawl, and Echo didn't know what use this Fulsi could serve to her, her interest or at least curiousity, was still about as high as her guard. Despite her perceptions, Echo did quickly scan the room for all possible exits and any objects that could become shields or weapons if the need arose. Her dagger, situated by her left thigh and embedded in her shorts, might not scare this shifter enough and it certainly wouldn't draw blood quickly given how dull it is. A flash of an old friend crossed her mind and Echo could feel her body stiffen momentarily.



"I suppose you're waiting for answer." Then, seeing the serval not give up her defensive position, "I'm not looking for a fight right now, alright? That much should be obvious." Echo smirked as her new 'friend' retorted with 'You look terrible,' followed by 'Smell it, too." In all of her interactions with other Fulsis, Echo is used to distrust and suspecting what gets spread around about her when she leaves or turns her back, but this one is by far the boldest. Maybe it's because Echo has nothing to offer her yet or maybe it's because she doesn't associate with too many other Fulsis, but either way. Calling Echo out on her appearance and smell to her face, that's refreshing. And deserving of some recognition. "An observant one you are. A little blunt, but hey, at least I know you're honest. And, to answer your question, may I respond with another? Why do I have to give you one? You appear to be quite the detective, I'm sure you can figure that one out for yourself," Echo said with a wink. Okay, the praise might be embedded in layers of sarcasm, but she had to have a little fun with this outright awkward exchange. "Here's a thought, and I realize it's crazy, but why don't we share this little slice of haven? Albeit a rotting and decaying one, but hey, who am I to judge. I won't even bother you. You'll just have to excuse the fact I reek of alcohol." She offered out her hand, as means of introducing herself and by way of apologizing of approaching her from behind so suddenly. Who knows, maybe there was potential for another business associate or acquaintance in this Fulsi.

[Ebele Magoro]

Ebele narrowed her cat eyes as the fellow shifter started speaking, but she never once lost her awareness of her surroundings. She felt the dust gather in between the pads of her paws, smelled the rust on the walls through the pang of alcohol on this girl, and she could have sworn she saw blood on the far corner of the ceiling in the form of splatters, but they were old and brown and no longer relevant. It was overwhelming to Ebele, but she welcomed the chaos, the overload of the senses. It made her smarter and more alive. On the other hand, it made it harder to process this girl's speech, what she wanted. Ebele wasn't tried and true in the social realm, and she never wanted to be. Why this wild child party girl wanted to be in vicinity of Ebele was beyond her, but if she wanted to be bored to death, that was her business.

Ebele shifted out of her form with some difficulty. She still needed practice with her forms. She shifted easily when she was startled, even though she had no control over it, and her movements were jerky when coming back out of it. Ebele wasn't embarrassed about it. She was young, very young for tenderfoot standards, at only fourteen years old. It was natural that she wouldn't have perfect control yet. Not to mention this girl was far too hungover to give her trouble about struggles. 

"It would be sad if you wanted to fight someone like me, I suppose," Ebele replied with a monotone, her careful emotionless voice, but it slowly turned mocking as she continued. "It wouldn't be fun, and that seems to be what you want the most." She bristled at the girl's later speech, as well as the wink. What was she playing at? Was that how she treated everyone she came across? Ebele imagined it would make people feel more uncomfortable than anything else, but she supposed it made sense. That was how this girl got what she wanted. Clever sarcasm, husky voices, and not so subtle flirting. That was how she got alcohol and drugs in a place where they were in such low supply. Ebele straightened and leaned against the wall behind her, chin up.

"Stop flirting with me," Ebele said flatly, not willing to show how uncomfortable it made her. The slow wink layered with sarcasm, Ebele wasn't so sure that she nailed it right anyway, but she didn't want this girl continuing to mess with her. Ebele was too tired to think straight. The night before was another night thinking about her father, and where he could possibly be. Insomnia totaled her just like anyone else. Maybe this girl wasn't flirting, but she was trouble, and Ebele didn't have the energy to deal with trouble.

Ebele tapped her foot, thinking for a moment, when the girl outstretched her hand. Maybe it was an apology, or a sign of truce. Ebele sighed. She didn't want to give in to any sort of mutual agreement, not when she was so annoyed. This girl got under her skin for some reason, and Ebele had never met someone she could do that. She was annoyed and intrigued all at once. Maybe I can investigate further... she stopped that train of thought right where it came from. No. She had much more important things to worry about. Regardless, Ebele reached forward and grasped the hand. It was rough, just like she expected from those in the Menagerie. Ebele had been in the labs so long due to her illness that her hands were still smooth, although signs of callouses began to emerge on her palms and fingertips. They were painful, but Ebele welcomed the hurt. It would make her stronger, in the end.

"Do what you like. I don't know what you expect to find here." Ebele strode down several rows of seats and plopped herself in the front, in the center. I certainly don't know what you expect to find in me, she wanted to say, but didn't. The whole thing made her flinch. She didn't understand the allure of anything this girl wanted in life. Ebele wasn't stupid; she knew that this Fulsi wanted something from her. She would be disappointed to find nothing. Ebele had her own mission. And absolutely nothing would get in her way.

[Echo]

Watching this girl shift back, not so effortlessly or graceful, Echo was reminded of her own. While under the influence of alcohol, and emotions running high, Echo would hardly notice the discomfort. Of course, the shifting in of itself never bothered her too much. No. It may irk her that she cannot seem to control the act, but it was something else that made the whole process unnerving. As she makes the transition, something akin to an anxiety attack overwhelms her senses, making her hate her clouded leopard self and wanting nothing more to hide and wait to change back. Hence the strong desire for mind-numbing substances. Whiskey may not diminish the wave of self-loathing that follows the change, but it certainly allows her to ride it out and be self-destructive in style with an inebriated entourage that follows just to see what she'll do next. Freedom from the panic, Echo can channel that anxious energy into unabashed flirtation with danger and anyone that can promise a wild ride whether its racing through the streets, or leaping across rooftops.



After all, what's the point of getting up in the morning without a crazy story to tell later that evening? It's not like Echo ever wanted to work up the ranks in the ring or settle down. Living life with reckless abandon certainly sounds a heck of a lot better than being aimless with no purpose. The only skills she seemed to have were sizing up other shifters, agility, manipulation, and stealth- all of which she used daily to get her kicks wherever her eyes, ears, or nose led. Eavesdropping and observing from afar the daily lives of fulsis is a form of entertainment in of itself. Whether it's watching a jilted lover beat the crap out of their cheating spouse or watching a scam go down on an unsuspecting and naive tenderfoot, Echo could sit back and watch the events unfold with delight, especially when she could be paid in booze for these special talents. Of course, booze is hard to come by. Sometimes, just earning the favor of suppliers and informants was enough. Hard enough to survive as it is in the Menagerie. Even harder though to not have connections in the Fulsi ring.



Now, facing the serval shifter, Echo stood puzzled. Usually, gauging her targets would be easy. Even the most reserved fulsis had agendas that Echo could use to her advantage and they usually presented themselves quickly. The disgust and judgement that is was so apparent on her face is nothing usual, but the fact that she did not either put up a fight or try to make a deal-knowing her reputation, just to get away from her, Echo found herself debating on whether to leave or to dig further. Normally, this wouldn't be a question. She would have left, bored, and in search of a new distraction. As if reading her mind, the fulsi countered her proposal with "It would be sad if you wanted to fight someone like me, I suppose," and with a little more sass, "It wouldn't be fun, and that seems to be what you want the most."



Echo chuckled and gazed upon this girl with a new level of respect and amusement. "You got me there! I don't know though, you're pretty feisty for someone who looks like they'd rather be invisible and keep their head down. What's wrong with a little fun? Sure beats dragging your feet around in a hell-hole like this." To Echo’s delight, she noticed her fellow fulsi visibly squirm under her gaze after her wink. Messing with other girls her age was about as much fun as flirting with guys she tried to sleep with. Very rarely has Echo ever met someone who could stand toe-to-toe with her and meet her straight on, unflinching. She took one step closer, narrowing the gap between them, to see how the girl would act. Immediately, in response, she had straightened and found a wall to lean on away from Echo and replied with “stop flirting with me!” Based on her body language, Echo could tell that she was getting increasingly annoyed and flustered. Much to Echo’s surprise, however, the girl finally reached out and shook hands. Then, as expected, she retreated as far away from Echo as possible but not without first asserting “Do what you like. I don't know what you expect to find here.”



What did Echo expect to find here? Why did she come in here again? The hangover was really starting to press on her, making everything from the past five minutes fuzzy. Well if nothing else, the abandoned building offered a brief respite and sure as hell wouldn’t judge her. The Iron Curtain looked just as much of a mess as she felt. Still, as Echo collapsed into a rotted chair, a thought occurred to her. The serval never answered her question. That, and they never exchanged names. Of course, the latter shouldn’t matter. It’s not like Echo ever tried to remember the names of all of her acquaintances. For the first time in awhile, Echo was left with more questions than answers, and despite her best charms, she was ultimately dismissed rather than sealing a deal. Instead of getting up and slinking out to somewhere where she could conduct her business elsewhere, which Echo knew she should do as this girl was becoming a real drag, she just slid further down in her seat, eyes turned up toward the ceiling with her arms behind her neck.



More toward herself than the other Fulsi, Echo quietly remarked “I don’t know either. A temporary escape, I guess. It’s as nice a place as any to lay low and lose yourself for a bit.” Then a little louder, “Name’s Echo.” She could probably care less who she was, but at least she had a name. Echo may be a drunk and a party girl, but one with a name.

[Ebele Magoro]

Ebele sighed. This girl... Echo, she said... just didn't get it. It wasn't fair that Ebele expected that, she supposed, because she never mentioned anything of it, but they could not be more different people if they tried, and this girl still insisted on an interaction. For fun, to tell crazy stories, blah blah blah, but Ebele had more important things on her mind. And the worst part was that Echo didn't seem to understand there was anything else to anyone else. Ebele wasn't one for anger, but a lot of things about this girl rubbed her the wrong way.

At first, she tried tuning the girl out.  It wasn't the best idea. The problem with this plan was that her mind had to go carefully, deliberately blank, and this wasn't something Ebele found useful. It only made her more mad, found this experience a more colossal waste of time. Suddenly, it hit her, and hit her hard: did she have any room to talk? She was sitting in the Iron Curtain, which she already decided she hated, and had no effort to move or leave. Guilt wasn't an emotion that came easily to her, but it was one that weighed down her conscience the most. Leaving her mother, not finding her father by now, contributing very little to her own ring... Ebele readily ignored these emotions, but ignoring the past only ever got her so far. She couldn't do that as much as she could ignore Echo, as annoying and weird the thought was. The ugliness of the Iron Curtain stood out to her quite openly now: the rust, the peeling film reels, the stained walls, that little blood spot that she couldn't stop staring at. It reminded her of her dead brother.

Faraji Magoro had been dead for over a year now, but Ebele still felt incomplete, like there should be whispers in her head that simply didn't exist anymore. She really could have used his guidance in this particular situation. He was better with emotions, with the way others think. Ebele was just as bad as this Echo girl: her way was the only way for Ebele. The whole guilt thing was getting seriously old, and Ebele let out a long, frustrated sigh. It sounded even louder in an empty theater, and hot blood crawled up her neck. This meeting was a disaster for her, although Echo probably didn't care when it came to the awkwardness, but it was at least half Ebele's fault.

She rested her temples in her hands. "My name is Ebele." It sounded formal, but Ebele kind of wanted that difference prevalent between them. "I drag my feet around because I have other things I need to get done than just 'fun.'" Now she was explaining herself. Would the surprises to herself never end? Faraji would have died laughing at her by now. She was never good at social interactions, even before when she wasn't all alone.

Alone. Such a bitter word. Ebele sighed again. Maybe she was still here because it had been so long since someone, anyone was willing to talk to her for an extended period of time. The thought felt sour to her heart, but some burden lifted from her shoulders, if only slightly. It was something. Maybe Ebele could renew a proper search for her father tomorrow. The silent promise lifted her chin and squared her shoulders.

"I don't have time to escape," she murmured to herself, and she didn't know she had said it aloud. "I need to get to work."

[Echo]

Echo made an exaggerated gasp as she sank in her seat further. The ancient chair squeaked in protest. "The cat has a name too! I thought I'd have ta harass you more to get that much." Expecting this comment to aggrivate Ebele further, she tried to undercut her brass attitude with a soft chuckle. "Look, I get it. The whole silent soldier with a mission and cross to bare thing." Echo appraised Ebele's backside, and even then without her face turned in her direction, she could see how taut her neck and shoulders were. A side-effect of never letting a second of peace come between her and the objective. "I won't get in your way. Someone like me who has little aspirations and content with being a spider-well technically a clouded leopard-but I'm trying for a metaphor here, if that's the right word-will only slow ya down. Moment to moment. That's where I'm at. No strings, nada."

As if to prove how good-natured and earnest her intentions were in seeking brief companionship, Echo approached Ebele from her side and gently squeezed her shoulder. Someone like this serval was definitely going places. No doubt. That kind of focus, obligation, and commitment to a cause, to finishing a project-Echo lacked. If she tried to soul-search, all that answered back were ghostly whispers tugging at her mind and a numbness in her heart. 'Wow, buzzkill. Just because this wet-blanket has some baggage doesn't mean you have to try and feel things,' Echo chided to herself. The headache finally started to recede and the position of the sunlight streaming in indicated that it was past noon. Just six or so more hours until the cycle can resume. Sadly without whiskey. Still, this severe-mannered girl deserved something close to respect and advice for sticking around this long while sober and alone in Echo's company. 

"I know it doesn't mean much coming from a drunk nobody like your girl echo here, but here goes, from one tenderfoot to another. Whatever caused you to clam up-much like this Iron Curtain, and act so restless, you need someone to look out for you. Be your right-hand. Someone reliable, not like me." Echo started to retreat and make her way back to the entrance-practically skipping thinking about what her escapades would look like tonight already. "Oh, and try to smile for me. Your face might have forgotten, being frozen like that and all but it's a fun exercise, trust me." With a wink and a half-hearted salute, Echo vanished out of sight, not stopping to see Ebele's reaction.