The friendly smile he flicked back to Zip at her oh so clear dislike for any of his species as Duck explained his presence, but even with that, he made to make himself as small and as distance as possible from the discussion. He was here for friends, not to get involved in family politics, whatever or whomever shape they might try to take. White Serenity had enough of that going on as it was, and he just didn't have the lifetime to figure out the alliances, truces, cease fires, friends and enemies of enemies to start playing that game. Even as his eyes looked out to see the one white, and one black clothed unoffical 'uniforms' of his own clan, watching out of the situation, over everything, feeding their sights back to the elders who would figure everything out from nothing. He resisted waving, he was more professional than that.
The street search began. Every storm drain, every manhole cover, unused in scores of years and every sidewalk alleyway they checked. And they checked. And they checked. And it grew dark, and his intricatly detailed whites became more and more disruptive in the fading light. And there was still no end to the number of locations to search by the time it grew early in the morning and he had resorted to using a flashlight to see into the grates and the filth below. More than once he woke someone who didn't need to be woken. And then... that flute. While he wasn't sure if the others could see him, he held up a hand, the internationally recognised symbol for wait.
That horrible, pleasing to the ear sound. And that laughter. Arachnid drew. Those around him could hear the subtle sound of high tech material fabric being rubbed against cold metal, almost as well as they could hear the click of a safety being thumbed to off. He didn't know why. But he had. He didn't speak, he wasn't sure words could properly convey the feeling he had in his gut and in his head. Somewhere, just ahead of him, and Arc and Duck, down the road, was something awful. As awful as how good he knew that music sounded. Insidious. He reached out with those astral senses of his, this time with a target in mind. Dead ahead, the source of that music, hand still up while he reached out with the paranormal touch.
Assensing (5)
6,2,6,6,2 = 3 hits