12-03-2006, 09:00 PM
Celipa's ass shifted uncomfortably, lodged in between some very large and splinter-filled wooden crates. Her leg gave a particularly vicious throb, and she became painfully aware of the fact that no creature's limbs were ever meant to be bent in the way that hers were just now. She gave a sigh, and unclipped the binoculars from her waist.
The saiyan woman's vision filtered through the glass tubes of the binoculars, magnifying at least ten-fold and zooming in on the hustle and bustle of one camp in particular. She could identify no faces, nor could she depict any of their specific features - but she could definitely identify the vivacious color of their coats. Those individuals were most definitely Outcast.
She slipped out of her position in one fluent movement that brought her into a solid crouch.
I smell sweat...
Celipa's nose twitched once, twice.
And more importantly, fear.
Her feet shuffled silently, the padding on the bottom of her boots keeping her ominously silent. The only part of her that moved unproffessionally was Cel's tail, that gave one anxious swish behind her, brushing the ground gently. She leaned forward in an almost cat-like way and touched the tips of her fingers on the ground, using them to keep her steady.
Celipa was the wind, and she was the ground. She was the air, and she was the sun. Stealth and instincts would be her only tools, along with her pistol - the only thing in the world that had a permanent case of PMS.
No one in the United camp saw her leave. No one knew she was gone aside from Garlic Junior. It would stay that way, with luck.
~*~
Celipa pressed her back gently against another wooden crate. What a case of the utmost irony, that what she had found to be her only shelter in home camp would be her only shelter here as well, in so dangerous a territory!
The saiyan gulped once, and massaged her eyelids briefly. She could feel a bead of sweat forming on her forehead, but she ignored it. She was in the territory of those with the vivaciously bright coats, and no one would save her if she fucked this up.
No one would save her. But that was the risk she ran.
So she waited. Her ears were perked for the slightest hint of a voice, or footsteps. Anything she could hear, she could and would use to her advantage.
OOC: Burter, take it away.
The saiyan woman's vision filtered through the glass tubes of the binoculars, magnifying at least ten-fold and zooming in on the hustle and bustle of one camp in particular. She could identify no faces, nor could she depict any of their specific features - but she could definitely identify the vivacious color of their coats. Those individuals were most definitely Outcast.
She slipped out of her position in one fluent movement that brought her into a solid crouch.
I smell sweat...
Celipa's nose twitched once, twice.
And more importantly, fear.
Her feet shuffled silently, the padding on the bottom of her boots keeping her ominously silent. The only part of her that moved unproffessionally was Cel's tail, that gave one anxious swish behind her, brushing the ground gently. She leaned forward in an almost cat-like way and touched the tips of her fingers on the ground, using them to keep her steady.
Celipa was the wind, and she was the ground. She was the air, and she was the sun. Stealth and instincts would be her only tools, along with her pistol - the only thing in the world that had a permanent case of PMS.
No one in the United camp saw her leave. No one knew she was gone aside from Garlic Junior. It would stay that way, with luck.
~*~
Celipa pressed her back gently against another wooden crate. What a case of the utmost irony, that what she had found to be her only shelter in home camp would be her only shelter here as well, in so dangerous a territory!
The saiyan gulped once, and massaged her eyelids briefly. She could feel a bead of sweat forming on her forehead, but she ignored it. She was in the territory of those with the vivaciously bright coats, and no one would save her if she fucked this up.
No one would save her. But that was the risk she ran.
So she waited. Her ears were perked for the slightest hint of a voice, or footsteps. Anything she could hear, she could and would use to her advantage.
OOC: Burter, take it away.
![[Image: Celsigcopy-1.jpg]](http://i22.photobucket.com/albums/b330/KiroX2/Celsigcopy-1.jpg)
Standing on a hill in my mountain of dreams
Telling myself its not as hard, hard, hard as it seems