She had spent a few trips away from Glorall now, each time seeming to find a curious creature among the caves and rocks of the Western Crater. It amused her so that she could go hunting for others like Pan had hunted for trinkets and the like from within the earth and across the beach. She came again today, having left quite a winding trail for the strange man to ponder over. She was faster, more agile, than her male soulmate - what did that mean to her, she did not know him! - and often found ways to trick him out of her company. She considered asking him to bring her the head of one of those seals - sending him to slay dragons for her to win her over. Her father, Bahamut, had been rumored to have lived amongst a people that required such things be the way a male showed his desire for a female. It was a violent practice and people, but Leviathan often wondered if it was not appropriate that a man have to prove his intentions were entirely for the benefit of the pair and not just the dangly bits between his legs.

               She is an exquisite beauty, and it is not a self-proclaimed notion. Fate itself had fashioned her so she would be thus. She would be attractive, desirable, and yet because of this truly wondrous gift of exotic beauty she would be left weaker than her kin - than her species. She is modeled more like the greyhounds of other worlds - where they exist, for here in Moladion they do not. She has the deep chest, the large lungs and heart, the long legs, the dished in stomach, the suspended gallop. She is fast, she is agile, and she is completely useless for hunting large game or fighting for dominance or doing much more than running away to survive. If Alana saw her, what she would see is a shaggy greyhound-fashioned female with a coat of confusion - black that seemed to shimmer brown and not gray as most black wolves might - and striking silver markings that drew the dazzling quality from her teal gemstone-looking eyes. She would see the hyper-awareness that came from being the weakest of your kind in strength - yet the fastest and most agile of your kind. She has a poise that mimics a doe, ears erect - eyes well opened - steps slow and meticulously planned. And when she speaks, she would see with keen accuracy that Leviathan spots her immediately.

               Leviathan turns to the voice and it is the scent she sought out. Strangers did not understand the dangers of the wilder places outside the pack. Bears and Cougars and Fox and Coyotes did not remember the reign of wolves from Old Moladion. They did not realize the ferocity of their new overlords and often sought to either consume or maim those who crossed their paths. It is why she comes to these remote places, these places meant for the loners and gypsies. She comes because she believes that she ought to try and help them, to save them from their dangerous choice of where they laid their heads. "Greetings, stranger! I am Leviathan!" She responds to the soft call, noting how she stands at the mouth of a cave cut out of the face of the crater wall. "Please, be most careful -- many a creature takes refuge in this crater and I am not of able body to help if there should be a bear or other such creature hiding in its belly.".

               Her eyes show her to be honestly worried - to truly find concern in her driving forward into the dark of the tomb-like cave. "If you wish a safe nesting place, I know one much more suited to peaceful slumber. I am of Glorall, a place that welcomes wearied paws and those who seek a purpose..." She smiles gently, like one might to a cat who has gotten stuck in a tree and might not trust the word of a human not it's master. "Perhaps you might tell me of your travels!?"


The Obsidian Beauty of Glorall
[ female - three - no mate - ravan's dancer - islander ]