[shadow=black,left]THE QUIET ONE[/shadow]

The desert seems endless. It's a wide expanse of nothing, nothing, and even more nothing, until there's something—and then nothing again?

In the distance, a reddish smudge appears, but it disappears in a blink, only to show up again. Every time it fades from view, it leaves behind a shower of sand and ashes dancing in the wind, the only indication that anything had been there. A beat or two passes, and the figure reappears again, closer to the edge of the jungle. It continues for some time, the figure growing larger with each corporeal burst until, abruptly, it stops.

Q lets out a disgruntled sound as she peers at the sand beneath her paws; it's hot, sweltering, and it would have burnt her pads if they hadn't already been thick and calloused. Still, the sensation is uncomfortable, and she forces herself to teleport again, pushing further and further into the territory until she reappears under the shade of a tree. The ground is significantly cooler under its canopy, and Q takes the time to stop and gather her bearings.

She peers at the change of scenery, noting the ecclectic mix of green and charred black. It had been burnt before. The maned wolf glowers at that, unconsciously shifting the weight off of her scarred leg and giving the old burn a quick, agitated nip, right at the edge of her bandages. She wonders if it's a good idea to go to a place that has seen the horrors an untamed fire can bring, but she decides that it's far too late to change her mind. She's come this far, she'll be damned if she lets some dead trees chase her out.

Q's jaws open in a yawn; she hopes the territory's residents will find her soon and lead her to wherever they stay. In the meantime, she decides to sit down and wait, resting her weary limbs, staring quietly into the half-razed jungle with a blank expression on her face. She stays so impossibly still she might as well be a statue.

[shadow=black,left]THE QUIET ONE[/shadow]

For a brief moment, there is nothing but silence—simple, somber, silence. Q revels in the serenity that it brings, fur relaxing, and then it bristles again at the sound of heavy footsteps. The ground resonates with the weight, and the maned wolf partially braces herself for what will appear before her next. She expects a bear, perhaps an elephant, or one of this annoying big cats that like to pretend that they own the place.

Instead, she finds a creature so odd and yet so interesting that Q can only describe it in so many words: otherworldly. She watches in quiet awe as its outer jaws part to allow its inner set of mouthes to speak; truly, it's a creature she has never seen before, and it feels like a blessing to witness now.

She dips her head low in greeting towards the much larger fiend, offering no words but believing her gestures to be enough. Indeed, she would like to join their ranks, that much is easy enough to ascertain, but just in case it isn't clear, the maned wolf raises a paw and turns the dogtag she wears, flashing the other side towards the creature (although she wonders if they are capable of seeing, given their lack of eyes).

On the tags, only the letter Q is left readable; the rest of the whatever word they may have possessed has been worn down by time. Q is all that she's ever known, either, so the missing letters is no loss to her. She does not grieve over what she has never known. She does not mourn what she is not. She simply is, and she aims to continue being such for as long as the world would allow her. Besides, she believes she deserves to simply be, after all that she's been through before.

[shadow=black,left]THE QUIET ONE[/shadow]

Q, for Quiet even.

The way the creature had said the word sounds more like an identity than a simple adjective. Q ponders it for a moment, looking thoughtful before allowing a light sheen of gratefulness to seep through the twisting hazel of her eyes. She nods to accept 'Quiet' before allowing it to fall muted once more, listening closely to what the great being has to offer.

She has been dubbed as Quiet, and so Quiet she shall be.

He speaks of a rite of passage, and Quiet dips her head again in acknowledgement. Whatever this ceremony may be, it should be easy enough to handle—she's been through enough to have a wide arsenal of skills and she has no qualms in using them.

A fascinating limb motions for her to continue deeper into the territory, and Quiet makes another approving nod before allowing the energy writhing in her gut to expand. The fur around her eyes wither to a deep black, nulling the color of her pupils, and without a sound the maned wolf disappears in a flurry of dust and ashes.

She reappears less than a heartbeat later, landing gracefully on a high branch further in the territory but not too far that she loses sight of the eldritch fiend that has allowed her to join. Quiet raises her head and peers over her shoulder, blinking inquisitively at Silent, silently asking him to lead the way.