He's an orangutan: he has no money

[sfont=Playfair Display]She remembered being angry. No...she still was angry. At everything. At everyone.

The memory of her throat being collapsed, the encroaching darkness that took over her entire vision. She remembered that. And why.

Because her father was a fucking idiot. And so was she and the rest of her family for obeying them. He was her father in name and blood. What else had he done?

He didn't even manage to protect her in the end. None of them did. She had to protect herself.

She didn't know why she was moving forward. The bliss that came from seeing her fourth, plastic leg, had disappeared. She was left with...

Left with... [/sfont]

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This place was.. Large, to say the least. It was like hills that were left with slates rather then slopes around. It held a diversity and yet just from appearing from the top it simply felt so empty to be. She could note shrubs and trees around, and birds and bison running through.. Though the cliffs made them all see nothing — a daunting appearance in all thought. If she truly wanted to explore more, Uriel thought with her own paws that'd be nearly impossible to climb those slopes. She could enjoy the view from the distance, a silver eye gazing occasionally to the shifting scenery..

Even in the distance did she see someone, walking through that it was almost like a storm cloud hung over them, for an anger was pushed in each step. Uriel couldn't help but look at the unusual contraption she held onto her legs thought — what were they? She didn't realize how much she was staring, and how rude it was, more amazed about it then anything.

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[sfont=Playfair Display]She didn't quite know how she could feel eyes on her, but she did, and her head turned.

Gold.

She winced at the sight, the wolf almost painfully bright even at a distance. She halted and beheld the wolf, glaring.[/sfont]

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They didn't look like someone of the stones and plains. Grays and whites hung to their pelt with eyes of blue — everything sung like a northern woman yet here she was crossing through the lands of erosion and cliffs. With the leg as well it was a wonder how she was getting around — for did it make it easier to run, to walk? Was it adjustable? Uriel never saw something like so and had trouble fathoming how could she survive in these wailing wilds, and brought a curious wonder to who she was.

The other taken notice of her though, and she approached with a caution. Bloodshot eyes could barely be seen — she looked scruffed, especially with a scar hanging so close to her neck, "hello there, you don't seem like you are from around here," Uriel said from a distance.

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[sfont=Playfair Display]She felt it again. The gawking. While she was grateful for the leg...it was clearly unnatural. More of a target of her deformity than before. Plastic and gleaming...

What a joke.

Beinlausa let out a hoarse scoff. No, really? Beinlausa glared at the golden wolf. She blended in well with the rolling hills and grasses, the reddish rock of the mesa itself. She coughed somewhat. Her throat never not hurt. She could feel it stitching closed, preventing her speech.[/sfont]

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