Yin

She was graceful, silent, and dangerous. Yin looked like sin. Pure, death defying, evil, Sin. Her movements were swift and fluid, as if she were one with the earth. Black ears moved to and fro, and she halted suddenly. She didn't know why she was here. Because she had nothing better to do? Yeah. That was probably it. She had nothing to do with her time, and she was sick of it. Sick of life. Sick of everything. With a disgusted snort, the female sat down, and waited.... waited.

She wished Shaman were here. He at least, entertained her. For the most part. She hadn't seen him for some time now, and wished she could just because. She didn't like him or anything.

Oh hell. Who was she kidding? She did like him. And not in a way she liked. Her hackles raised and she nearly growled in the still morning air. She wanted nothing to do with Love. Love was evil, not good. What did others know of love? Nothing.

Shaman

As though the thought had summoned him, the ghostly form of the subject of her thoughts made its way silently toward her... so silent, he might have been the ghost that he appeared to be. He came from behind; the wind was with him... and, heck, just to scare the bejeebies out of her, he snuck up behind and pounced on her.