Thread: [CLOSED] Pulp Inc. Presents: Thrilling Tales of the New Continent! [Deante & Lasciel]

Razel watched, a skeptical expression clear on her face, as Parani explained her sudden need for departure. She didn't know enough of magic to know the precise mechanics, but she was sure it would've been a small thing to summon such a waterspout. And the timing was awfully convenient! What was the woman getting at? But the women spoke too quietly to eavesdrop, and as much as she wanted to shake one of the small cats until answers fell out, she was under strict orders to defer to Siona and Cesarin. It was infuriating ! But then she watched Parani jump into the water and disappear without so much as a ripple, and all she could do was stare. Were these ocelots crazy? The answer was clearly, in her opinipn. She shook her head in amazement, hands continuing to grip the hilts of her knives but now just a little bit more tightly... She listened, for once as intently as Siona as the subject turned to the dangers further inland. Now she was grateful for the copious notetaking of the little fox, her looping hand easily keeping up with Tolani's words. Tasa, and really everyone in the camp, would be in some way interested in the intel. But soon enough, the discussion returned to more mundane subjects, and she found herself once more disappointed. Movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention. She sprung from her crouch, but did not yet draw her knives, tail twitching in obvious agitation. Her stance quickly relaxed when she realized it was one of their males, wearing some sort of ridiculous necklace. It certainly wasn't hunting garb he would be spotted a mile away from the bright flashes of color. And the way he rolled his hips as he walked... Was trying to attract her attention? How adorable, she thought, her muzzle contorting into something that could charitably be called a smirk. She was not sure what to make of the twitching of his tail, though it reminded her of a few of the larger cats she had met and tangled with back in Ulchark. A sign of piqued interest, or of a state of agitation. She raised a brow at his request, but reached both arms behind herself nonetheless. In one lithe movement she drew the weapon over her head, displaying both grace and a significant amount of strength in her triceps and lats. Quickly she reversed her grip, twirling the axe such that the handle faced the approaching cat and the blade pointed at her sternum. The weapon was large for her, and obviously outsized for the ocelot or at least she believed such, and so she believed it to pose little threat. When the ocelot had finished inspecting her weapon, she reholstered it along her back. Did she do so with more flourish than strictly required? Perhaps. Razel had a strict policy of avoiding entanglements with anyone in her unit, her chain of command, or anyone likely to become a member of either group. Between her departure from Ulchark and the arrival of the second boat, this had amounted to a vow of chastity. She could flirt in her own way here without violating her code of honor, and it seemed that most of the important discussions were taking place among the womanfolk, besides. I'm bored. Would you like to spar? She asked, placing her hands in her pockets with her thumbs hitched outside, hips slightly forward, a stance of subtle dominance. A light sparring match would be useful in three ways. First, it would give her an idea as to how these ocelots tended to fight and how well-trained they were. She was confident she could tell the subtle differences between a lack of skills and the very-skilled merely playing at such. And she could measure how physically powerful the cats were, after all, the specimen she faced seemed to be of prime age and reasonable fitness. Second, it would burn off some of her nervous energy. It had been entirely too long since she'd sparred with someone new, besides, and the experience would be insightful. Had her skills lapsed, spending months practicing against the same small handful of opponents? She was hardly of any use to her Empress if she became stale or predictable. It was the third reason that put a particular gleam in her bright blue eyes. A good, sweaty bout was a great way to assess whether someone was interested in more than just a brief throw-down. It was her preferred alternative to flirting, and one could learn a lot about how someone felt about you from how an they fought you. It had been an awfully long time since she had anyone to look at but her own colleagues, and those few fortunate souls who had washed up from the shipwreck hadn't been quite to her tastes, either. These muscular, graceful cats, though... No weapons. I'd get in trouble if someone got injured. She added, in a tone that suggested she felt confident that she would not be the one getting hurt. Of course, Razel wanted nothing to do with someone who didn't want something to do with her. If the sparring match was accepted and remained only a sparring match, she would not press the issue. She would happily subdue the ocelot or two she felt confident that her advantage of size and combat experience was worth a lot here, but not confident enough to suggest the idea outright and drag him them? off somewhere to claim her victory prize, but only if the subdued party seemed enthusiastic about the whole idea.