Overture Downs a haunt of roulette dares

Sleep had been hard for Isleña to come by; and not just for the last night, but for several of the past nights and the result was a girl who was as grouchy and snappish as she was tired. Inside her own heart, Isleña knew her cohorts and family did not deserve this side of her, especially not those who had taken on the added responsibility of following Tashkent in her departure. Isleña knew that she was better than this, but all moments when someone uttered an inane comment, or suggested something particularly dumb, well, she couldn’t help but lash out.

The woman knew sleep would not visit her that night either, so she did not deal with the frustrations of even trying. She moved about, perhaps to round up breakfast for the troops, or to patrol the limits of their sleeping quarters to ensure their safety. Whatever her purpose might be, she feels infinitely more useful here than she did laying listlessly with the others, so she perused her surroundings in the dying sunlight. 

The noise of paws thudding against the ground raised her alert — there’s not one set of paws, but two — and she moved quickly to see what the fuss was about. Her hackles smoothed somewhat when she saw it was simply Kuyuk and Tashkent, having a race of some kind. Immediately, her tongue became slick with saliva at the thought of the thrill of a competition, but there was no way for her to win at this point. Instead, the shedevil stood off to the side and waited for the game to end, so that she may either partake in their subsequent conversation or go back to resume her vaguely-defined duties.