Chimera Fields Woo Woo!

I honestly don't know what the title is...@Mikijuk

Tokala took the breeze against her face, it was a nice, cool breeze here in this field. She could get used to this...this sense of freedom. It was a beautiful feeling to her, the breeze. She sat there, eyes closed and sighing with relief, muzzle to the sky as she sat in the open field. But she kept one eye peeked open, wary of anyone that approached.

More often than not the young temptress was in close proximity to her mother, following and waiting, watching and learning. Of the children her mother and aunt bore, she was the first, paving paths for herself that the others would never set foot on. She thought rather highly of herself, yes, but her views did not stem from anything other than the facts surrounding her birth. Where the eldest of the sisters had failed time and time again to bring forth new blood into this dismal world, it was Sitala that had succeeded—it was her mother unto whom the gift of childbirth was bestowed, and she the first of few in a great while. And oh, how that filled her with such a pleasant sensation.

Dreams of herself woke the woman up early into the evening, the images faded and voices lost, whilst the feeling created was left behind. Sanuye immediately sought out her mother, desperate to be in her presence for lack of better company—but the only woman readily available was Namid, whose existence alone set the younger female off. It was with raised hackles and a complete abandonment of their sisterhood that she taunted the eldest of their group, reminding her of what she could not do, whilst her own youth and assumed fertility was flaunted. Sadly, she could continue her cruel antics for only a short amount of time before she was chased away by the elder and her shadow, Eyota. Little resistance was given out of fear—fear that her mother would be blamed for her actions, or that restrictions would be put in place to keep her from enjoying this new world they’ve discovered. Before a single, true warning could be issued, the alabaster femme fatale was in the wind, distancing herself from the women of the old.

It was whilst her legs had since grown weary and she need pace herself that she stumbled upon the sepia-clad girl, who was recognised immediately as Tokala. For a fleeting second, she stared at her through narrowed eyes, transferring the frustrations felt towards her mother and their aunt onto the innocent—but she was not to blame for the actions of the previous generation, despite having once thrived within one of their wombs. With a gradually softening gaze, she approached the woman, crossing through her peripheral to ensure that her identity was not mistaken for another. “Tokala,” she greeted, voice low though the tone was gentle. “Explain to me why you have chosen this wasteland to spend your evening in?” The conditions of the land surrounding them were not unnoticed, only intentionally ignored. It took nothing greater than a glance or two to see the ruin of the earth, torn apart, with its wear that showed through even the highest mounds of snow. There was no saving grace to be found, not a single beauty—besides herself, of course—within miles that would convince her it was a territory worthy of staying in; she couldn’t understand why they were here and not somewhere that might challenge an appearance such as her own.

Tokala had not met with her own mother for quite some time, she was beginning to think that she should sometime soon. Perhaps try to find her. She thought of this as the breeze went by through her fur. She had not met Namid in some time either, but that she could get by without doing. She had not spoken to any of her sisterhood in a while either, having been quite distanced, although that was of her own doing, taking in the wilds of Teekon instead.

She heard the voice and turned her head downwards slightly to spy one of her sisterhood, Sanuye. "Sanuye, how have you been?" she addressed in her sultry accent. "It's the breeze I am here for. Can you feel it? The free breeze?" She breathed in deep, and exhaled. "I am quite enjoying these lands."

Receiving barely a glance, the woman’s ego swelled with disdain for her cousin. How dare she not pay her proper attention—and respect! Perhaps it was brought on by the lingering effects of her earlier scorn, but her face twisted into a scowl, the entirety of her frustrations now directed towards the girl. “I would be better if I received that which I am owed, sister,” each word was crisp, perfectly spoken, and laced with acid. Though, Sanuye was not a fighter. Upon birth, she was molded into a stunning example of the perfect temptress, taught to use her body and her words but never her teeth—well, not unless she was ridding the world of a used male, of course. Those blundering fools, so easily influenced by the body of a woman, were easy to be rid of and unworthy of involving themselves in the lives of her would-be children. Only ever would they feel the pinch of her jaws around their throats, never a member of her family.

Perfectly sculpted features turned away from her, muzzle tiled upwards so that it could meet the incoming breeze—she was unimpressed. “I am not,” she stated, tilting her head to the side so that she could, once again, gaze down at the ember. “This place is ugly. Surely, there is no one here worth our time.” She wanted to see something beautiful, something that her own appearance could perhaps even be compared to—if it was at all possible for such a land to exist.

"Yes, I think both of us would be better if we were given what we were promised...I have heard no news from them..." She thought back to her own mother, and how she had not seen her in quite some time. "Have you seen my mother? I met with Sitala recently, she seemed to be doing...as well as she could.

Apparently her sister's feelings for this land was much different. She did not see the beauty in it, and Tokala did. "There will perhaps be someplace...." She grew a somewhat worried look however. "Your mother spoke of us perhaps being too late."

The true meaning behind her words sprouted wings and soared right over her cousin’s head, thus furthering the eldest girl’s irritation with her. She considered speaking again, allowing the same thought to leave her mouth but in the form of more obvious words, yet she did not. Each word bred was left to crawl off and die in the recesses of her mind, never to touch the ears of another. She allowed herself to focus instead on the new topic of conversation, which she assumed to be in reference to males—why the girl was so eager to bed her first one, Sanuye would never understand. Truthfully, she did not feel the same, for she knew that she was meant to wait. In time, her mother would gift the young temptress a lover with looks worthy of molding with her own. However, until that day arrived, she was content with waiting.

“Be patient, Tokala,” the elder female uttered with an authoritative tone. “Taking the first man you see will not be nearly as great as one selected specifically for you. I suggest you keep that in mind before another complaint on the subject leaves your mouth.” She wondered if there existed in the world a man for her cousin, though, honestly, she doubted it—at least not someone charming or with valued features, for the femme fatale would always have the first pick, and there would be not a single moment in life at which she tossed a man with features nearly as brilliant as her own away for Tokala.

She was not the sharing type, after all.

At the mention of Eyota, her fur bristled in a manner similar to an offended hen. “I have,” she replied, a chill in her voice. “Your mother was less than hospitable when I saw her last. I will not be seeking her out again.” Which also meant that the girl would not be led to her mother. She did not hate Eyota, not truly, but she was incredibly unappreciative of how closely she stuck to Namid—the pair were practically inseparable, though anyone with eyes and half a brain could tell that for as thick as the former’s respect and loyalty was, the latter returned hardly an ounce of it. But this she did not linger on for long, as there was no reason to do so. She returned to the conversation at hand and, with a slow shake of her head, said: “If there is a place, then I doubt it will be easy to find.” Especially not for Tokala, whose tastes were… lacking.

“Late for what?” she questioned, yet was certain that they’d not missed a single thing. Mikijuk trusted her mother, often hanging on to every last one that left her mouth, but she could not contain the doubt as it began to build up. She did, however, pull the focus of such a harsh emotion off of the one to have given her life and pushed it onto her sister instead; surely, she was remembering the words incorrectly, or had simply misinterpreted the meaning behind them.

Tokala sighed, yes patience. How much had she had that repeated to her by one of the elders? Yes, she had been told a lot that only the one chosen for her would be the best. "My mother does not seem to be doing a job with that..." she muttered under her breath. She clamped her jaws shut before another complaint could leave her mouth. To Tokala, her cousin was more responsible especially in this moment here. 

She tipped her head at her cousin, she did not seem to enjoy the mention of Tokala's mother. "What happened? When you saw her? And what of...Namid." Saying the name was distasteful. She could care less really about Namid. "We will search together then. Find a place together. You look one place, I will look another and when we come across each other again..." It seemed like a sound plan for her. Even if her ventures so far had been highly unsuccessful. But she was optimistic. She wanted things to go right for her, not all downhill. 

"Too late to find a man...the season is coming to a close soon, she said. she worries we came too late to these lands." It was not her place to say, but it was not like her cousin would tell Sitala. "I know it is not our place...but we may have to look for ourselves. We cannot wait too long. All we have been trained for, all we have been raised for, it will be for nothing."