They say "I'm on your side"
Mar 1, 2015 22:13:25 GMT -5
Post by East on Mar 1, 2015 22:13:25 GMT -5
I WRITE TO GIVE WORD THE WAR IS OVER
SEND MY CINDERS HOME TO MOTHER
SEND MY CINDERS HOME TO MOTHER
It was an ugly beach. The sand looked grey when it should have been golden, and where there was stone where there should have been sand. Maybe it was morning, the sun reluctant to wake and the clouds stubborn to let it through. Maybe it was the season, transitioning between winter falling to its knees and spring crawling to a stand. Regardless, Ziva shouldn't have been so critical. If the Argentino dog had any interest in sightseeing, she wouldn't have picked Cascaro.
But she was adaptable. As much as Ziva liked curling her toes into the soft grains, sliding over the skin like warm water, it was a luxury the female could easily live without. The city was rough around its edges, but it was a small sacrifice for a golden opportunity in a world that was governed entirely by canines. Ziva trusted her instinct and knew she wouldn't regret.
The white female made quick but not impulsive decisions on how she would start. A few days were spared to rest and familiarize herself with Cascaro before she began a long walk down the beach. Ziva was exposed as a solitary figure, well muscled beneath a sleek, white coat with faded spots. A chain linked collar, loose around her neck, slid down as she raised her blocked head. If she didn't see them first, they would see her. Who they were, exactly, she didn't know in a matter of names or faces. It was not those that she was interested in foremost; it was concepts and big pictures. And Tempest's seemed like one she could invest in.
Not to imply the female had no interest in names or faces, otherwise she'd be a social barbarian. Ziva liked to consider herself a little more civilized than that, as long as it suited her to be.
// OPEN TO TEMPEST, JOINING
THEY GAVE ME A MEDAL FOR MY VALOR
LEADEN TRUMPETS SPIT THE SOOT OF POWER
LEADEN TRUMPETS SPIT THE SOOT OF POWER