Her children had been strange. They were not related to her by blood. That was probably a good thing. They were zombies, the undead, mutated at that. Their arms had been melted and morphed into wings, with jagged turning wounds present on their bodies. Her eldest had one right across the face - more up and down than her own facial wound. The other had a deep gash across the chest, often wrapped up in bandages. The glowing yellow wound on her own face was from circumstances far different from the ones that turned her children into zombies.  She missed the two dearly. She hoped that her wife was doing alright, taking care of them on her own. It pained her to think about how her beloved could be sick right now, or hurt, and she could do absolutely nothing about it. Being here was alright. She just wanted the other with her, so that she could be entirely reassured that she was safe.

What had brought up such a train of thought had been when she was.. totally not raiding someone else's room while looking for something to bring to her own. They weren't inside, and walking through the doorway had been far too easy to pass up. There had been a bowl. A singular bowl. It shouldn't have stung so deeply to see the culinary item, but it did. Her eldest child collected bowls. She didn't know why. She didn't bother asking. If it made her child happy, then who was she to even try to deny their activities? Bowls were harmless, either way. Yes, when her child had started digging a rut underneath their house to store the bowls, their featherbrained neighbors had been concerned about the structural integrity of their home. Aslisk wished that she'd heeded their words before the floor had collapsed, the bowls narrowly escaping being destroyed by a quick burst of magic from her wife. The wyvern rolled her shoulders before bending her head down to pluck the bowl from it's resting place. No one would mind if she kept this, right? Just for whenever she was able to truly go home, and then she could say that her disappearance had all been a quest for bowls. It was fitting. She just hoped that it was believable.

Aslisk's abilities of teleportation came in handy. Being nocturnal helped as well, where most people would be asleep. Her talons gently scraped across the floor as she nudged doors open with her snout so that she could snag the bowls. Then she teleported off, firmly ignoring the feeling of exhaustion that set in. Teleporting was more exhausting now. Of course it had to be. It was annoying, and annoying made irritation flicker to life with twitches of her webbed ears. Yet she was dedicated to her task. Eventually she had to stop teleporting all the way back home, and began crafting a small little pile outside. It was nighttime, and she suspected no one would notice nor care. They were just bowls, after all. Besides, it was not as if Aslisk truly cared about if she was scolded. This was for her children. She would do anything to have them happy, even if she wasn't sure when she would be able to return to them. She teleported in with another bowl, feeling exhaustion bite into her deeper and deeper. She set the bowl down and began gently nudging them with her talons. Aslisk's red gaze surveyed the pile, glimmering in the darkness while a rumble unconsciously parted her maw. A few more, maybe, she considered.

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

Aslisk, in truth, had not been expecting anyone to investigate her constant trotting about in search of the dish. Her talons were carefully sorting the pile, making them more clustered together so that they took up less space. Her room was far from full with anything else of noteworthiness. Boring and bland, she had yet to have altered anything in her short time following choosing the room as her own. Spare the bowl pile. It was getting rather big, and the wyvern lowered her head to nudge another bowl into what she deemed the proper spot. Her child usually did something similar. The cave that had been created to hold it's massive collection of bowls was too small for her to enter. That was fine. Her children did deserve privacy. The only time Aslisk had ever demanded something from the little zombie's hoarding cave had been when she wanted one particular bowl. She let her child have it, yes, but that did not lessen the value that one bowl had to her. The first gift she'd ever been given in her entire life. It bore heavily on her mind sometimes, that she let her child have such an important item, but she equally as heavily trusted in her bowl-obsessed child to not break it.

"Has anyone ever told you to lusluing knock?" The wyvern spat. Redvox had knocked, yes. Aslisk simply decided that she needed more a reason to be angry. Her head snapped up from the pile, red eyes glaring in the dark room. They faintly glowed, not just from the sheer fury that restlessly flickered in her gaze. "These are for my children." Aslisk supposed that she did owe him the slightest bit of an explanation. He was the leader. As much as Aslisk loved the idea of insubordination, it did not mean that the wyvern actually did such a thing. Her tail swung slowly behind her, head raising high. She liked being defiant, of course. It felt good to have the strength to stand up for what her own childhood had denied of her. Aslisk liked the thin line between headstrong and disrespectful, and she surely walked it. To her, it was different than insubordination. Not that she believed she'd ever been accused of doing such a thing. The wyvern either was put into her place, or simply managed to not cross the line. Aslisk figured she was far from the line, anyways, over such a trivial thing such as bowl collecting.

"My eldest loves to collect bowls. I figured since nobody was using them, then they should go to someone that actually would use them." Aslisk continued. Her tone had softened upon commenting about her child, following with a vague gesture to the pile with one of her lanky wings.  The end of the limb nudged the pile, moving one of the bowls before it came back to a rest in the misshapen pile. "They're not gonna be missed. Likely."Aslisk was not fully sure of the idea of how the people here used bowls. They hadn't been used currently, and so she had swiped them. Her tongue wiped her sharp teeth, continuing to stare. Her glare had lessened a little, mind now growing occupied with how she would even return home to give this bowls to the child of question. Teleporting, clearly, but thus far it had only resulted in failure. She huffed, leaning forward on her feet, swiftly forcing for her tone to once again grow aggressive. "I'm not giving them back."

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

Slowly Aslisk's tail flicked behind her. The webbing that constructed her wings was open, her staring at him. Her tail then nudged the pile, as if she was somehow worried that it would collapse if she did not constantly alter it's structure. She couldn't have any of them breaking before she could give them to her wonderful children. Aslisk had even hissed at the Harbringer when he dared to touch the pile, striding closer. She wasn't exactly sure what her children's stance was on broken bowls - as she refused to give them broken items for she deemed them improper - but was heavily against giving them such a thing. They could get hurt. Or not like them. "I didn't hear any lusluing knocking," Aslisk replied, her head raising a little. Then she huffed, stomping a talon against the floor. "Yes, yes I have kids. And a wife. Neither of them was brought here with me though. I can see how it's both good and hask that they're not here." She certainly wouldn't be allowed to be this temperamental if her wife was here. No, she would be cuffed over the head and brought in for a hug, or be chirped at until she was calmed down. Her kids? She wouldn't want them getting hurt. At the same time, though, she did miss both of them. The cons weighed against the pros. Aslisk was never good at that sort of logical thinking. Perhaps it was for the best that they weren't here. She didn't have to worry about upsetting people who's opinions she truly did care about. Yet she could not ensure their safety. Both were strong arguments to the wyvern, and she truly could not pick one over the other. It didn't matter. They weren't here, and her say in the matter did not count.

Appealing to Aslisk's emotions has usually never been a decent strategy in the past. She has held the cure to a disease in one talon, and smashed it and all the research when her emotional side had been begged to. She could see the face, crying, tearing up, begging and pleading at her feet. Aslisk had only handed over the vial due to sheer annoyance, of not wanting to hear another word from the beggar that groveled at her feet. A part of her had loved being in full control of the situation at hand. Aslisk loved being in control. But the other part of her had hated the whine of the other's pleas so much that she had caved. Her teeth bared. "I think you must be deaf. I just said I'm not giving them back, so no. Not only do I not believe in promises, but I equally will not be returning these bowls." Aslisk remembered her hatred for promises well. She had promised someone that she would not do another person any harm. She had upheld that promise for a long, long time. It was binding. She hated being bound to her word in the way of a promise. Nothing terrible had actually come out of the promise - if anything, things had gone for the better - but her hatred of the concept burned right through. "They're for my kids now. If they want these bowls back so dearly," her lips pulled back, head turning as if snarling at an invisible threat, "then they can humor me and try to take them back." Aslisk's gaze then returned to the Harbringer. No, her aggression was not directed toward's him at the time. Her gaze leveled to it's usual level of fury while  the talons that jutted from her feet curled into the floor as if it would allow the rest of her anger an easy way out. "They're old, like you said. They won't be missed," the wyvern added breezily, nodding her head to agree with her own sharp words. "And no. I wouldn't know what it's like in a community. Some people don't have the luxuries of wherever the hask you grew up."

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

For a moment Aslisk felt a searing anger surge from her scales. She watched as the other picked up the bowl and inspected it. She immediately felt enraged, far more than the usual amount. Her tail swung behind her sharply, the other side from where the pile of bowls were. She told herself that if that bowl did break, then she would have every reason to launch herself forward and thwack him. Or actually attack him. Whichever came first, the wyvern swiftly decided. Her mind was conflicted. She had many different takes of how authority worked. Where she had been born, she was the tool and everyone else was the master. Then she had answered to a form of mutual respect, and then came a hierarchy of queens and kings. She was lacking severely in the respect department, and her jaws parted to sharply hiss. She wasn't sure which mentality she would take if she had to, and decided that she'd decide if she had to. "No, they wouldn't. Ichigo would hate that it turns night and I don't think the kids would like people touching their stuff, she snarled in reply. She let the topic of not hearing the other knock die. It wasn't doing her any good, arguing against an absolute truth. So it was possible for her mind to be deterred, it was just.. hell to do so. Perhaps it had to do with how her expression lightened a little upon the other's words of apologizing for her other familial members not being present. "I'd prefer them to be home, where it's mostly safe." Their home was not entirely safe. There were predators, of course. Vicious predators that hunted in massive swarms that could overtake nearly anything they came across due to numbers alone. Aslisk would say such anyways - she needed to convince herself just as much at the time.

"Now, if they're gonna come waddle up into my room, like you have, and demand for them back, I'm gonna have to put them in their place. That's just how it is. I'm not gonna be shoved around. So I'll fight who I want over what I want. It'll be their fault for not using their lusluing common sense." She huffed. The place that she had somewhat lived before her family moved had been a place just like that. You fought to establish your order. It was different than the place of her creation. Rank was not earned by the blood on your talons, but a form of mutual respect. She wasn't quite sure where she was on that list. Hopefully no where too embarrassing. "How does the saying go? Mess with the bull, get the horns? I like that one." Aslisk nodded her head, turning it over a few times. It was a human saying. Of course it was. Human sayings, she hated them, solely due to their connection with humanity. She could deal with it for something as simple as this - and defending her violent nature as well. Her wings shrugged a little, turning her gaze back to the pile.

Of course, when community was again brought up, she stiffened. "That would be a family, not a community. Do you want to talk about luxurious birth places?" The wyvern's tone had grown cold, and her head slowly pulled away from where she had begun again examining the pile. She was standing up taller now, a fury brimming in her vibrant red eyes. Perhaps she didn't fully grasp the meaning of a community. It could mean any size - and as said, a family was just a small community. Yet anger didn't allow her to fully think such a thing through. For a moment the wyvern wanted to spit out the horrors of her childhood. She wanted to elaborate on how she had become such a cold hearted and absolutely vicious person. Briefly it came, the feeling of wanting to spit out her hissy fit of anger of how her childhood had to be far worse than the other's. But then, then the anger filtered away for a moment. No one deserved to hear that story unless they were close to her. Redvox was not. So Aslisk bit her tongue, willing herself silent until she could get her thoughts in order. "A community I'd more associate with a town than a family, you hask." Her tone was quiet, forcefully filled with a more neutral tone whilst she pushed down the remaining 'spill your guts out with your words' feeling that had arisen.

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