Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-25119920-20150417182333/@comment-26130256-20151029044957

Almost like it was waiting for their complaint, a Bullhead rose from behind a skyscraper and touched down daintily in front of the group. The compartment opened, with Azulius prostrate on the floor, breathing like he had just ran a marathon, at full sprint, being chased by people who hated him.

"Come on, folks!" the pilot shouted, beckoning them inside. "The fuel for this thing ain't cheap!"

Once they had taken off, the pilot turned to look at the others. It was a young woman, early thirties at most, in a long purple cocktail dress. She had long black hair with a cloche hat, and the same deep brown eyes as Azzie. In her cupholder was a large thermos of coffee, with a smell that Iris immediately recognized as the same super-caffienated soup the magician had given her.

"Ya know," the pilot began, her Vacuan accent obvious,  "You all sounded much more impressive when Zulie told me about you." He responded to his hated nickname with an angry groan, since words were still too difficult to form.