Chameleon Sand

"Well, Fiora? Age-old question: cats or dogs?"

Fiora cocks her head to the side as if she'll even pretend for a second that she doesn't bound so playfully, a family of labradors in black-brown and yellow-gold, toward every and any question regardless of its relative maturity.

Anyone can borrow traits from either animal without immediately giving away their preference. You can be an affectionate cat or an aloof dog; either is equally likely and allowed.

Allowed in the rules of whose game, Fiora doesn't know, but she explains all this to Sharla, to outline her train of thought as they stalk an especially attractive Feris.

Now, were you to ask Fiora about her pick between the options of Feris or Volff, she'd say Feris every time, because though she loves to be a chaotic force on the battlefield herself, she's not so hot on dealing with crazed wolves moving just that little bit faster than she can process (even though the Lupus Feris is formidable in its own right).

No, she's a fan of smaller, cuter creatures, if she could have her druthers. Say, monkeys, rabbits, weasels... Really, the answer to "cats or dogs" is "Neither! Rodents."

Fiora beams as she declares this, so Sharla can't help but smile too. "Really? I thought I could see you playing fetch with a real big hunting dog, one that's only nice to you."

Maybe it's the restoration of significant portions of Fiora's erstwhile Homs flesh that has Sharla thinking this way; everything bent to the romantic and the traditional, because who could ever imagine a Machina - let alone a Mechon - playing fetch with anything but an M40- or M50-series unit.

(Too right - one that's only nice to her, or secretly just to Lady Meyneth underneath.)

Fiora shrugs. "I could be a woman of many talents."

"I happen to think you are," Sharla purrs.

This pulls Fiora from her state of rabid concentration to glance back at Sharla and frown, deflated. "I thought we were going after this Feris! But now you're making it difficult."

"Ah, suddenly we're pacifists," intones Sharla, but she can see that Fiora has the right of it; it's not the time to romanticizing the traits of creatures that they'd ordinarily make no bones about putting down in order to quell the potential for further Fogbeast uprisings.

They lunge, then, Sharla reeling off a tranquilizer bullet to put the beast to sleep. It's more peaceful this way, and certainly easier. Plus, the waking Feris could howl for reinforcements, but this one won't.

Once Fiora's done finishing the job, Sharla decides to try a different question: "So how about knives versus drones?" No telling how another Face Pilot might have used a rifle, seeing as... But this topic's ripe for the picking, so she goes.

Twirling one knife in hand as she'd just been about to sheathe, Fiora considers it. "Well, I was much more powerful, in that body. Wouldn't even really need to be so tactical, if I could just blast out some ether and be done with it."

Of course - this possession of such raw power had been part of why they'd feared and ostracized the Mechon, really.

"But like this, in my original body, I feel, well, more like an animal!" Knife now safely sheathed, Fiora busts out finger-claws and adopts a crouching stance. "Low to the ground, and ready."

Oh, cheers to that.