ORIGIN

Aethril had fallen far behind, though not by accident.

Early on, she had grown bored. She trailed behind at a distance and scanned the crowd, half-assessing them the way any architect might assess a tower. The mannequin-like creature left an ill taste in her mouth for reasons she could not place, or perhaps reasons she could not be bothered to. Obieth and Nidhogg were both works of art in their own right, of course-- had Vargas created Nidhogg? What was he thinking when he created Khavur, however... --the leopard was, of course, among her favourites too; the hyena and raptor, less so.

It should be noted that her thoughts quickly came to a standstill when the floor was swept from under her and she went ricocheting down a waterslide. She yelped, and she twisted her body around to scrape her fingers against the rock underneath like a cat trying to slow its own fall; but ultimately, she fell in a heap in the sand and spent an unfortunate time trying to find her shoes while the others forged on ahead.

She was cursing herself, of course, for not noticing where she was walking: but alas, it is what it is. It was all quickly forgotten when she realised which room she'd fallen into. The Hand had never been to Lacerta; she knew of it, certainly, and knew of its guardian. The latter was not of any concern to her, however-- not yet. Like a rich woman parading the Amazon, she took her damn time taking in the sights.

Aethril only bothered to pick up the pace when she heard roaring and the sounds of combat: and even when she arrived, she perused from a distance: she studied Svarog and Kihan's little toussle, the others running in to help. Often, these things would light the little spark of Chaos in her heart. Oh, how she would have loved to turn the tides one way and watch the struggle: how she would have loved to set everything alight in violet flame, or break the ground apart from under Kihan's feet. But... Aethril was far more interested in jungle exploration.

Such is the way of Chaos, she supposed. Even she had very little control over which whim took her whenever.

So, the click, click, click of her heels announced her presence amidst the combat. A spark of chaotic magic and-- ahh, gone. Also such was the way of Chaos. This failure to summon a spell did not, in fact, stop her from marching forward.

A glance between Nidhogg and Obieth and orders, curt and sharp, enough. Come, and further on she went. Stop, to Kihan-- and then, she was speaking loudly and clearly. "Have you such little else to do? Calm yourself."

She eyed him up and down-- wary that he may lash out, but caring very little --and frowned. "Kihan, yes? You have more pressing priorities than defending from..." she peered over the crowd, for a time. "Half of them are younglings. Have some sense."