In Dire Straits - Civil black [Ashtar]

The heat was on, the dry air almost like a cracker breaking, Leocor wasn't sure he could bear it for that long, but he lived through it somehow. It was a rare quiet day where no white follower had asked anything of him and he had been free to walk around a certain area an area he then stuck to. He didn't break the rules given to him and always stayed close by in case he was needed.

He toward a small narrow river and leaned over, lapping a few drinks down to cool off from the heat and sighed happily. Just what he needed.

He lay down and dipped his front paws into the water and closed his eyes, listening to the quiet around him, taking it in and resting his body for moments in the heat - footsteps. He opened his eyes and turned to see someone he knew, though hardly. It was the child who had wounded his foreleg and though now it had healed and the only remains of the encounter was the missing ear tip he remembered her. What had she become? What had others taught her in her short life, was he to worry for her?

He looked softly at her, no blame or anger in his face and he offered a friendly smile. He tried to wave her over wanting to get to know her a little better. He was worried what the white seour had taught her, what did she know of right and wrong, black and white? He knew he couldn't teach her much, he was just a slave after all, but he wanted to know what she thought was right and wrong in this world. He watched as she either kept her distance or came closer to him.

"Hello. I don't believe I ever got your name little miss." He gave her a friendly smiled and stayed on his stomach. If she misbehaved she was not that large that he couldn't stop her from misbehaving, but he would prefer she stayed polite and civil with him.

   Singular goal, narrow mind. Focus. Ashtaroth intends to run through the sand, like the Ashigaru do-- run until her legs give out and crawl until the world goes black. Wake up without Lotus, her only brother swearing to make it all go away. She snapped at Raphael, clamped down on his paw as he pulled away, let the blood they shared fill her mouth and spill out. She licks her dry nose. Keeps moving.
   Leocor signals for her. He looks only friendly, even on the closest of inspections available from this distance. Idiot.
   The girl approaches, tail raised when she stands before the groveling heathen. "I don't believe I ever got your name," he says, so politely. Pointedly, she glances from the missing portion of his ear, to the scar tissue taking up his leg where fur has ceased to grow. "Ashtaroth." Snarling when he repeats it back; she much preferred the sound of Seour. "I know your name." It's not important, besides.