Ankyra Sound burn that bridge when you come to it

ooc; am about to double dip in rusalka's ballsy waters

Diaspora had been a disappointment. now, as the woman spread herself to the coast, she would pick up many scents. one in particular, unknown to her knowledge, stood out the most. it seemed much more... active? was that the word? compared to the other coastal communities. Huntington strolled forward, her exchange with the woman in Diaspora far from her mind now. she was not worth troubling herself with. again, she would do a pause before the border.

she lacked the muscle to waltz in and take what she desired. frankly, she did not know what she expected out of this. only that perhaps the people here were far more acceptable, without their noses up their own asses. that the meaning of 'freedom' meant you were your own person. not claimed by title and pack. scorned to do grunt-work to your 'betters'.  Huntington reclined. it was mid-day by the time she reached the coast, having rested at the previous night in the wilds. 

she still did not speak. she sat like a statue upon the earth, a being of smoke and charcoal. she waited for another to come along. to speak with.