The wyvern had stayed to herself for quite some time. Her antics had been filled with finding out where she was, what she was, and why. That latter question she had absolutely no answers to. Nothing about this made sense. Nothing about being a different creature in a different land made sense. It was annoying and infuriating and it made her want to scream and pitch a fit. She was, in a way. Sunk her teeth into prey and refused to eat it, swinging her head to slam the dead creature into trees as if it would somehow release her anger. The wyvern felt better after expelling that hostile energy. Still a little frustrated, sure. She was away from her wife and two kids. She kind of needed them to keep her terrible rage in check by knowing that none of them would put up with her hostile attitude.

"Stupid lusluing piece of hask," Aslisk spat, finally dropping the mutilated item of food from her jaws. She took a step back, long tongue swiping against her sharp teeth. That was equally as strange, having more than three teeth. It was odd, and far from comforting. Her teeth had been built to sink right into the neck, to rip the major arteries in exactly one bite. With all these teeth, that confident feeling had been diminished. It irritated her, only adding on another layer of anger and irritation. Aslisk slammed her tail against the ground, ignoring the pains that surged forward from the impact. She paced, still angry, mulling, not able to find a reason and only growing more irritated. Her irritation was something that often got the best of her. Taking a deep breath, looking again at the mutilated item of prey - a waste of food, really - the wyvern decided to do something more productive.

Aslisk knew that her body was different. Gone was the superbly fluffy body that her mother had created for her. The wings were the same, but being an exotherm all of a sudden was incredibly startling. The desert was hot, the jungle was cold. She could not find a happy median. More irritation. She sighed, expelling air in a drawn out way as if it would help ease her anger. Of course it didn't. Aslisk had long learned that her ability to manage her rage was absolutely terrible. Not only did she grow violent when angry - which was a near constant - but she often had no other way to ease away the anger. A huff sounded and parted her maw. Fine. She would do something productive then. Or, at least, her idea of productive. That included being a torturous, malicious person, but for the time being she decided distraction would be a better route. Aslisk had not tested for any power related similarities between her regular self, and the one that had been appointed to her in this strange land. What better a way to distract herself from a seething fury than to test?

The only real power she wanted to test at the time was teleportation. It was her most important power other than healing, in her eyes. Aslisk wasn't about to hurt herself in order to test such a thing if it was wrong. She had prior skill with the power, and it wasn't hard to swiftly grow accustomed to a slightly different way of teleporting. Grumbling, the wyvern decided that after teleporting around a few times that she would have to try another one of the powers. Perhaps disappearing? That would be nice, to ensure that she had a way to hastily retreat. One attempt, two, a third. "The luslu," she snarled. If she tried to do such one way, she disappeared. The other only allowed for her to suddenly be unable to touch the grass. The wyvern squinted, tilted her head, hissing. "What the actual lusluing hell is this supposed to be?!" Her grey wings flared, flapping, an angered screech sounded. Anger took hold again, talons stomping on the ground. She was an irritable, noisy wyvern, sending prey scattering from her hearty screeches of rage. Her tail swung one way, than the other, then turning her head screeching loudly once again. She had meant to be productive - meant to teleport and hunt for the group - but now? Now she was too consumed in her irritation to remember what her goal had been after her original burst of anger.

ive always had to get my hands dirty, a patrol to make sure no one hurts me

An irritated grunt sounded from Aslisk, her long tail smacking into the ground behind her. A webbed ear raised and her head turned, watching the Gat approach. She felt another prickle of irritation as names still refused to come to mind. Nitis be damned, who was it that he reminded her of? Now it was two, not one, and she knew the similarities but the names were what she wanted. She hissed, rubbing her face with a wing. "I'm.. fine. Angry. Yes. That summarizes it up really well." She grumbled, red eyes squinting. Her responses were sharp, snappy, drawn from her anger and sizzling temper. Her chest burned with fury. It usually always did, making her wish to go and lash out. She couldn't though. Not against the Gat, surely. He gave her something far too similar that made her absolutely refuse such a thing. Not being able to remember was certainly the most annoying part of it. She would have to set more time aside to remember.

"They're not nonsense words. They're swears." The wyvern then grumbled. Her native tongue required for her voice to drop down a few octaves, down to a near snarl. It was growls and snorts and hisses that barely could create words, as if anger itself was being manifested into a sharp and deliberate foul meaning word. "I'm trying to get my shadow to move, but it's not working. I only got used to doing that a few months ago and now it's back to being an uncooperative stupid son of an xiogipa's hask." She spat, tongue flickering from her maw. She glared at her shadow - which was as ordinary a shadow as any other. Another infuriated stomp followed. "And I can only do one thing or the other, and it's the most hask example of 'pick one' in the known universe." Aslisk continued, gaze then turning back to look at the Gat. Her expression remained infuriated, but certainly not towards the Gat. Not for his concern nor his approach, a talon rapidly tapping and scratching the ground.

ive always had to get my hands dirty, a patrol to make sure no one hurts me