[PRP] Vermilion Streaks (Spork and Lady Aria)

[Phantom Spork]

Vermilion streaks break through darkened clouds that drape across the sky, heavy as funeral cloths. The effect might remind one of a tangle of red and grey sheets as the bleeding sunset peeks through the eyes of a distant storm.

The petrified trees stand tall and dead; as if defying the notion there was ever anything living in this portion of the woods. At their roots pale white mushrooms cluster along the ground, contributing to the stench of corruption that seems to fright any breeze that trespasses.

Kalmamond finds himself staring at the pale orbs absent-mindedly as his ears flick with irritation. It had been nearly a month since his assistant had fled; and the task of collecting his own implements was growing more tiresome by the day.

He leans ever so slightly onto his staff as he contemplates whether this potion is really worth the tediousness of kneeling for a fungus. The heart atop the medley of bones beats steadily and predictably in response.

Kalmamond grits his teeth as he gives a low hiss and turns away; perhaps that useless boy would return after the storm. The fungus would be stronger then, regardless. He starts to make his way back to the overgrown path, curious as to why he wasted his time on such notions as kneeling. He may not be a god- but he certainly carried himself as one.

Half way to the path he pauses suddenly as he scans a small clearing with his peripheral vision. He was certain something had changed since his initial passing- perhaps this location was not as veiled as he had anticipated.  

[Aria Starstone]

Ishtara eyed the sky, irritably, as she made sure her precious guitar was carefully away in it's case. It wouldn't do for this horrid weather to damage it. Gods she hated being grounded for weather, especially on her way to the next city. She got more out of her music when she had a real audience. Their energy gave HER more energy to... well, to have fun later. It was always a nice thing to snag a fan to... mmm... play with later. They never complained... Much. But with weather grounding her, she'd have to wait for her satisfaction.

That said, she was grateful she'd found this clearing. It was always easier to land in open spaces, and there was a decent meeting of the dead trees here that she could settle under to stay dry. She was no fan of getting wet. Her only regret was that there didn't seem to be a great deal of actually usable wood. It would have been nice to have a fire, for the heat. She always DID like warmth better, and she worried less about The Beast, as she called her guitar.

She paused, suddenly. Did she hear some one, moving through the brush of the area? She moved, slowly, so that she could see the full clearing again, one hand resting on her guitar case, the other reaching down to rest on one of her shoes. After all, a lady (if she could be called that, and if not, well it amused herself to use the term) was always prepared, and her shoes hid knives in the heel if she needed them. She would, privately, admit that the down side to her sexy little outfit was that there weren't enough places to hide weapons. Of course, if it came to it, she didn't mind getting down and dirty, but oh well. Best she see what was up.  

[Phantom Spork]

Kalmamond’s fur seems to subtly bristle as if electrified - alert as his senses suspect he is not alone. For a moment he wonders if it’s the energy of the coming storm catching him off-guard. At his uncertainty the heart begins to hasten its pace causing an ooze of blood to dribble down the ivory bones and over his fingertips. The child never did like strangers. He tenses his hand rather deliberately before hissing. “Silence.”

There is a delay before the heart starts to slow once more to its predictable beat. “That’s better.” He says in a low and rich tone. His voice is eloquent despite his aggression.

He takes a few strides forward before pausing again- teetering on the edge of mild annoyance and amusement as he catches sight of Ishtara. His gaze brushes over her idly before pausing on her guitar case. “A street performer?” He queries, “You will find few spectators in these woods, my… Lady.” He seems to hesitate very briefly- perhaps not certain she deserves the title, wearing such attire at liberty.

He smirks a moment before taking a few more paces towards his destination. Perhaps he feels his duty of enlightening Ishtara about her dislocation is complete.  

[Aria Starstone]

Ishtara studied the stranger as he approached. "Beating heart on a bone stave? How unusual. Might be an interesting fellow..." She finds herself thinking. And it responded to him, too. Very unusual. Very interesting. Normally she didn't pay much attention to such things but in a situation like this... Well it could mean the difference between boredom and amusement, at the least.

She tilts her head, and listens to his words, and his voice. Not a bad voice, though she didn't think he'd make much of a duet. At his words, though, her lips twisted in both disdain and amusement. "I, a street performer? Hardly." Her voice was rich, velvety, and musical. When she chose to, it often was entrancing, but she chose not to for now... But any with the ears to hear could see that it wouldn't take much magic to make it so. "I work the taverns and clubs, they are far richer in game." She stands slowly, her demon wings and horns visible for a moment in a distant flash of lightening. Normally, even she hid that to some degree, when plying her trade in the mortal realms, but she didn't care at the moment.

"And yes, I am well aware such a place has little for one like me, but what can a lass do when a storm interferes with her travel plans?" She made a moue of displeasure at the weather's recalcitrance to cooperate with her desires. "But the weather doesn't care for the desires of such as I, sadly."