wasted years [xavior]

[Dakarai Magoro]

Dakarai came to a stop as a gust of wind cuffed him on the side of head. It didn't surprise him at all, considering the vast landscape of.... nothing that sat before him. It unsettled him in more ways than one. Before life in the Menagerie, he could see farmland, dilapidated buildings with roofs of straw and bricks of mud, and of course, the animals that made Africa so wildly beautiful and dangerous. Now that he had the luxury of thinking back, he wondered how many of the eyes he found belonged to a shifter and not a wild animal. That identity wasn't truly a part of him until he was taken in by UNIT. Now he couldn't be separated from the python within him, even if he tried. They were one and the same. He found himself shifting more in this place than anywhere else in his life. Why not? He didn't have much better to do.

Speaking of which...

Dakarai wasn't sure how he came to be in the Gray Lands. He chose to wander from place to place, but he usually didn't stray far from their makeshift civilizations. Ebele wasn't likely to be anywhere so desolate and... dark. Ebele always chose a life of light and knowledge, and nothing would be found here. A small smile tugged at Dakarai's lips. If anyone could find something in such a land, it would be his daughter. He knew that much to be true. It was that thought that kept him rooted here for a time, at least, until he came back to reality. Shifters didn't just not come here because this place was empty. Dakarai knew better than anyone else that one of the best hiding places was in plain sight. Shifters didn't come here because it was dangerous.

There was no cover to be found. Dead trees stood by a thread or lay toppled on their sides, but it wasn't enough for the type of weather that could pass here. Dakarai cursed under his breath in his native language. He shouldn't have come here. Ebele would know that death was easy to find in such a place. But...

What about others? He couldn't be the first one to come to such a land. Faint scents tickled his nostrils, and he sighed. His fingers itched anyway; he hadn't built a shelter in quite some time. The materials were getting more and more scarce as he traveled, and sometimes they weren't the right kind. The last shelter he built wasn't a very good one. It would hold for a few months, but it was work Dakarai was unsatisfied with. He felt lost, dangling at the end of a rope, but he knew exactly what kind of shelter this place needed.

Dakarai shifted into the massive python form that he had been identifying closer and closer with. He dug his head into the dirt and constricted his body around it, scraping it into a nice pile. He transformed back and shoveled the pile of sand away with his hands. He repeated the process until he had a decent sized hole, wiping sweat off his forehead as he did so. Not that there was much. The air was cool in a sinister, foreboding way. He ignored his misgivings and started carving walls with his hands. It could fit two people, but it would be cozy.  Dakarai let out a huff of breath and transformed again, slithering out of the hole.

He found two large, roughly rectangular pieces of wood. One of them was rotting, but he knew he could work with it. He started sawing off the rotting edges and nailing the two together, until he could fit the entire piece over the hole as a door. He used dry branches as stakes through the wood, so that the panel could lift off and on without being blown away by violent winds. He only needed to make a latch out of metal he had gathered while he was journeying so it could be opened and closed, and not lifted upwards while people were using it. Soon, he was smiling again. This was his fix. This made him feel whole.

He was sitting while leaning back on his hands, admiring his work and checking for weaknesses, when he stiffened. Something did not feel right. He changed into his python form one more time, knowing it was far more sensitive than his human form, and an assault of wrong attacked his senses. The pressure in the air was changing, moisture went up his nostrils, the air whisked back and forth like when his wife beat eggs for her recipes. He changed back, but he couldn't see anything. Not yet, anyway.

OOC: Dionysus I just rewrote the whole thread; I hope that's okay. You know where to find me if I done goof again haha.

[Xavior Perez]

For the first time in a long time Xavior decided to wander outside of the Carna ring. People warned him that it is dangerous to go alone and a few even offered to come along. Xavior believed they were just bored so they wanted to venture out as well. The Carna Scout politely declined as he wanted to do things on his own terms. Everything his entire life was in a group or family related. Once in his life Xavior wanted to try to do something by himself without anyone lingering over his shoulder. Every minute Xavior traveled out of the Carna he instantly felt on edge the entire time as well as trying to be alert of his surroundings. Death by scouting alone was not on his agenda for the day. Xavior wandered for hours trying to enjoy the scenery of everything. None of it was pretty. It became clear that his decision to venture off on his own was a dumb idea. The scenic route was not as glamorous as he hoped it would be to wander free. Xavior stopped dead in his tracks for a moment as something in the air felt weird. After shifting for the first time Xavior realized how many of his senses peaked more than the average human. Just like an animal it felt natural to know that a storm was brewing. He wanted to kick himself for being out of his home during a time like a bad storm. Taking deep breaths Xavior went over in his head on what to do to survive all of this nonsense. It was obvious to find shelter, but he had no idea how to go about that in an unfamiliar territory. Along his travels in the distance Xavior could see a man next to what looked like a man made shelter. Being a Wooly Mammoth shapeshifter boosted up his confidence in survival along with the fact that he learned the ability to literally burn people by touch. Xavior focused on his hands to activate that skill which he gratefully learned did not burn his own skin. Crossing his arms he slowly approached the man next to the answer to his prayers. Xavior went into the situation expecting a fight which he was not afraid to do. "I see you have exactly what I need, my good sir." -------------------------- OOC: Noir - SO SORRY FOR LATE AND SMALL POST. FORCED MYSELF TO WRITE THIS. D:

[Dakarai Magoro]

Dakarai sat next to his shelter, one of the quickest he had ever built. He supposed it was the practice. His hammer, nails, and other tools have been his friends since he was a boy, but he never used them as much as now. In this godforsaken place, building created the only release he was interested in finding. Atonement. Redemption. Dakarai grew up in a religious family, but naturally his beliefs were shaken by recent events. Even if God was real, Dakarai knew he didn't hear anyone in the dome. He sighed as he folded his hands together in front of him, and recited the prayer he was taught even though it sounded so... hollow.

He didn't know exactly why he felt the need to recite it now. He never said it after building a shelter, but maybe it was because this place was so... desolate. A place of death. It gave Dakarai chills just to be here, and he had no idea why he was still here. Maybe the limbo, life and death, fascinated him. He always felt lost these days. Maybe he actually needed to be lost to gain some perspective.

Dakarai was so deep in his musings that he didn't hear the man approach him. He jumped, and then narrowed his eyes at the stranger. It appeared that he wasn't the only one crazy enough to linger in this wasteland, a place that could consume hours like seconds and stretch the most melancholy moment into eternity. Already, Dakarai didn't like how this particular shifter approached: full of confidence, assuming, and like he was disposable. But, Dakarai supposed, he was. He usually built his shelters for strangers, ones who may not have deserved them in the first place.

Regardless, he gave the man a long look, before pointedly closing his eyes and angling his face back towards his features. The man could wait a few seconds until he finished. "Kwa kuwa ufalme ni wako, na nguvu, na utukufu, hata milele. Amina." After he was done speaking, he stood up and faced his company. He held himself in a relaxed posture, but every muscle within him was a coiled spring. He knew potential danger when it came to face him, and this man reeked of it.

"How convenient for you," he began, but a new offense slammed into his senses and left him dizzy. Dakarai looked into the horizon and saw it: clouds darkened almost to the level of a night sky. Rain drenched him to the bone in a matter of seconds. And the air. The air still smelled so wrong. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. The Keepers, ultimately, didn't care about anyone here. Their survival was nothing but a convenience, one that Dakarai had exploited a few times. He wondered what Ebele would think of seeing something like this.

He looked back at this man, and said nothing. Fighting was worthless at this point, but a grain of pride still made its way to the forefront. Pride he had no right to have.

OOC:Dionysus Sorry for the religious crap; it just fits his character. And I wanted to use Swahili haha.