I'm beginning to feel like a Dungeon Dragon

soul bound to none | heart captured by none | warrior of nowhere | no children | loner

She grinned, half reassuringly, at her. She had found that travelers were quite common, though few moved to her and Kaderin's extent. She didn't know how far her homeland was from Moladion; only that it took her a month or so of near constant walking to arrive from the last land she haunted. If she wished to visit her homeland again, she could, in theory, retrace her steps. She'd let her gut guide her, her brain too full of other routes to other places to be bothered to call up the long disused memory. It wasn't as if she didn't like her family, she loved them to death, but the wanderlust was strong, and her family knew that. Even if she didn't see them or talk to them on a regular -or really any- basis, she still felt connected to them. Even hundreds and hundreds of miles away, she felt like they, especially her mom, were with her whenever she needed them.

Jag and Chicky, though quite alike in some things, did not quite share the same belief about fate. Fate and Karma were two things she believed in, but that didn't mean she couldn't fight them. Countless nights on her own and battles fought had numbed her ability to fear, and the wars she had participated in had all but crushed it. But there was one thing that gave her the willies.

Love.

She saw love as a strange and fickle beast, something that should be avoided at all costs. She didn't want to need someone like that, didn't see how anyone could she'd walled off her heart so much. Granted, she let people in just enough to let them feel like she let them in, but her heart of hearts would never be penetrated. Never, not if she had anything to say about it. To her, love was a grave mental disease and hopefully stayed that way. While she may be a social butterfly, loving to make friends and others laugh, she was somewhat jaded. She had learned at a young age that the world was a cruel, harsh place. Yes, most of the populace were genuinely nice people, but that didn't change the fact that some percentage of the population was not. She had learned when she was a pup that she shouldn't trust people outright, and no one so far had earned her full trust. She took everything everyone said with a grain of salt, being lied to so many times before. She saw emotions like fear, nervousness, and anxiousness as weak, though only if existing within herself. Same with crying. She couldn't remember the last time she cried. She refused to depend on others, though she always made sure they could depend on her for anything.

She sounded quite cynical, but she did believe people had good in them, just not the naive dream that everyone was good deep down inside. There were those who were truly evil and didn't have a heart to be reached, not even one so heavily guarded as her own. There were also those who were empty; a black void where the heart should be, pumping smoke instead of blood. Secretly she sometimes wondered, in the middle of the night where no on was around, if she was one of that caste. If she had nothing inside and everything was just an elaborate facade. Had she sealed her heart even against herself? Armored it to the point of ridiculousness until it saw the own body who housed it as an enemy? This was what she pondered when insomnia had it's claws into her brain. It was rather depressing, and this was when she shut off the emotions, going quiet, and attempting to sleep. Though the ideas still batted around her mind, restless like hungry beasts, growling and roaring to be listened to. She refused to, fighting tooth and claw in her subconscious while she dreamed. Thankfully though, these nights of dreary things only happened once in a great while, her usually retaining her normal, relatively happy persona.

As it stood, she had not had one of those nights in a long while, something she was grateful for. Since coming to Moladion, she had found out about the Imprints. While she had heard vaguely about them before, they seemed to play a significant role here. She was a bit apprehensive -unnaturally and utterly terrified more like- of the idea of finding her Imprint. If she ever had the misfortune to meet him, she'd avoid him at all costs. She'd kill and maim and ignore whatever feelings she might have for the bastard, no matter what. Imprints may be decided by Fate, but just because Jagger normally went along with her didn't mean she couldn't fight the bitch -yes, in the event that Jagger finds her Imprint, Fate will probably be 'bitch' for a while.

"That'd be great!" She smiled at Chickadee, standing up as well with a tail wag, going to stand beside her. She ignored the twinges of her wounds as the scabs stretched protested, having settled while they were talking. "To tell you the truth, I've just been using a little dip in the ground for a den," She chuckled. She hadn't had a proper den in ages. In fact, she probably hadn't had a proper den since she left home.

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