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+---- Thread: WELCOME TO LOS SANTOS ☆ joining (/showthread.php?tid=11252)
WELCOME TO LOS SANTOS ☆ joining - michael t. - 02-09-2020
This was not the first time that Michael had broken a promise, and he had some very strong doubts that it would be the last time, either.
He could still remember the deal that he had made with the Lost, sneering in the gang leader's face at the proposition. Turn yourself over to us, and Trevor gets to go free. It had been a no brainer. After all, Michael had dragged that stupid fucking coyote into this whole mess, becoming friends with him and letting him embrace his wild and rage filled habits as they committed crime after crime. The two of them had been inseparable as they stole, killed, and trashed their way through everybody else, with Michael being the leader, and Trevor being his muscle. He didn't regret those days. Fuck, he loved those days, but that hadn't changed the fact that they had massive targets on their backs, and the only way for the one on Trevor's back to disappear was for Michael to disappear, entirely. The melanistic bobcat needed to be out of the picture, and he had made that decision for the both of them, letting Trevor believe he had been killed when really he had been taken from the lost, kidnapped and locked away.
At first it had been easy, spitting in the face of his captors and telling them to go fuck themselves while they tortured him, reminding him that he would soon be dead, all because he gave himself up. However, days began to give way to weeks, and weeks quickly gave way to months, and there was no end in sight to the pain. It seemed as though the Lost had decided he was more useful as a plaything than as dead. He had never intended to keep his part of the deal anyways, but he had hoped that he could hold out longer, if only for Trevor's sake. Knowing that idiot, he could still be pacing through the wilds, with some misguided hope that Michael was still alive and he could swoop in to save the day. While the first part of that statement was true, he really didn't want the coyote to get fucking killed trying to save his ass. Still, even as he tried to hold out just one day longer, he knew that he couldn't. He was at his breaking point, and he needed the hell out of here.
So, he had waited. He had waited until the guard to his little holding cell had shown up with breakfast – they were still feeding him, evidently finding it more fun to torture someone not dying of starvation – and found himself jittery and antsy with excitement. He watched as the guard opened the door and stepped inside, the spotted leopard grumbling about something that Michael didn't give a shit about. All he cared about was that the door was open, and suddenly he was flinging himself forwards, straight at the guard in front of him. The leopard had size and strength advantage, but Michael had the advantage of knowledge, and soon enough his fangs found sensitive muscle, digging in and watching as the guard went tense and froze, pain rippling through him. The bobcat didn't give the other even a moment to recover, his fangs going straight for jugular and aiming for vital blood vessels. It only took one firm chomp and he had a hold, digging harder and harder until eventually the guard ceased thrashing, and stopped slamming Michael's small body against the ground with each movement.
The world was spinning around Michael when he found his way out of the underground holding chamber, his legs weak and his head pounding. Every one of his wounds was itchy and bleeding and awful, but he knew he needed to move fast, before someone saw him. He had no idea where he was, having never really thought to look into where the Lost's base was established. After all, he didn't have the manpower to take them down, so why bother? All he knew was that the moon was high in the sky, and he needed to get away, so he took the risky way out. He just chose a direction and started moving, dragging his injured body along as he prayed he had gone the right way. He didn't have the medical knowledge alone to patch his wounds up, and he wouldn't survive much longer without someone's help. Anybody's help.
It felt like it had been months since he had started his trek out into a random direction from the Lost's camp, but in reality it had been only hours. It just felt so much longer, with bile rising in his throat and his every step jolting pain through his body. He was gripping tightly onto his bag of stuff, hastily grabbed before he had bolted, just so that he would have everything from the past he cherished so dearly. The sky of the desert was burning above him, and he was beginning to think that he was really going to die, even after his escape, when the sight of green on the horizon made his heart pick up. There were tall trees in the distance, marking the border between wet and cool jungle salvation and the desert hell he had been dragging himself through. He knew it was a mistake to do so, but he found himself speeding up, excited with the knowledge that he was so close to help, hopefully.
Eventually the bobcat reached the border, his nose immediately wrinkling at the stench that filled his nose. There were definitely people here, at the very least. He could only hope that they weren't one of the many groups of people who wanted his head on a platter. Gritting his teeth, Michael dragged himself beneath the shade of the trees, collapsing in a heap once the morning sun was no longer beating down upon him. He dropped his bag at his side, his body curling up as he nosed and sniffed at his own wounds, searching for some sign of infection. He sighed heavily as he began to drag his tongue over his mussed up fur, trying to keep the cuts littering his body clean so that they hopefully wouldn't become infected, or worse in some other way. He could hear the signs of life all around him from the trees, and he found himself looking around, calling out softly, "Hello? Anybody there who can fucking help me?" It wasn't the nicest greeting, but it got the point across. He pulled his legs in close after saying this, licking gently at the slightly balding spots on his legs where his fur had been chewed at, very glad that he was no longer pushing tender skin into the blazing hot sands.
( don't feel the need to match this!! Really only the last two paragraphs are vitally important, the ones before the line are just backstory )
He could still remember the deal that he had made with the Lost, sneering in the gang leader's face at the proposition. Turn yourself over to us, and Trevor gets to go free. It had been a no brainer. After all, Michael had dragged that stupid fucking coyote into this whole mess, becoming friends with him and letting him embrace his wild and rage filled habits as they committed crime after crime. The two of them had been inseparable as they stole, killed, and trashed their way through everybody else, with Michael being the leader, and Trevor being his muscle. He didn't regret those days. Fuck, he loved those days, but that hadn't changed the fact that they had massive targets on their backs, and the only way for the one on Trevor's back to disappear was for Michael to disappear, entirely. The melanistic bobcat needed to be out of the picture, and he had made that decision for the both of them, letting Trevor believe he had been killed when really he had been taken from the lost, kidnapped and locked away.
At first it had been easy, spitting in the face of his captors and telling them to go fuck themselves while they tortured him, reminding him that he would soon be dead, all because he gave himself up. However, days began to give way to weeks, and weeks quickly gave way to months, and there was no end in sight to the pain. It seemed as though the Lost had decided he was more useful as a plaything than as dead. He had never intended to keep his part of the deal anyways, but he had hoped that he could hold out longer, if only for Trevor's sake. Knowing that idiot, he could still be pacing through the wilds, with some misguided hope that Michael was still alive and he could swoop in to save the day. While the first part of that statement was true, he really didn't want the coyote to get fucking killed trying to save his ass. Still, even as he tried to hold out just one day longer, he knew that he couldn't. He was at his breaking point, and he needed the hell out of here.
So, he had waited. He had waited until the guard to his little holding cell had shown up with breakfast – they were still feeding him, evidently finding it more fun to torture someone not dying of starvation – and found himself jittery and antsy with excitement. He watched as the guard opened the door and stepped inside, the spotted leopard grumbling about something that Michael didn't give a shit about. All he cared about was that the door was open, and suddenly he was flinging himself forwards, straight at the guard in front of him. The leopard had size and strength advantage, but Michael had the advantage of knowledge, and soon enough his fangs found sensitive muscle, digging in and watching as the guard went tense and froze, pain rippling through him. The bobcat didn't give the other even a moment to recover, his fangs going straight for jugular and aiming for vital blood vessels. It only took one firm chomp and he had a hold, digging harder and harder until eventually the guard ceased thrashing, and stopped slamming Michael's small body against the ground with each movement.
The world was spinning around Michael when he found his way out of the underground holding chamber, his legs weak and his head pounding. Every one of his wounds was itchy and bleeding and awful, but he knew he needed to move fast, before someone saw him. He had no idea where he was, having never really thought to look into where the Lost's base was established. After all, he didn't have the manpower to take them down, so why bother? All he knew was that the moon was high in the sky, and he needed to get away, so he took the risky way out. He just chose a direction and started moving, dragging his injured body along as he prayed he had gone the right way. He didn't have the medical knowledge alone to patch his wounds up, and he wouldn't survive much longer without someone's help. Anybody's help.
It felt like it had been months since he had started his trek out into a random direction from the Lost's camp, but in reality it had been only hours. It just felt so much longer, with bile rising in his throat and his every step jolting pain through his body. He was gripping tightly onto his bag of stuff, hastily grabbed before he had bolted, just so that he would have everything from the past he cherished so dearly. The sky of the desert was burning above him, and he was beginning to think that he was really going to die, even after his escape, when the sight of green on the horizon made his heart pick up. There were tall trees in the distance, marking the border between wet and cool jungle salvation and the desert hell he had been dragging himself through. He knew it was a mistake to do so, but he found himself speeding up, excited with the knowledge that he was so close to help, hopefully.
Eventually the bobcat reached the border, his nose immediately wrinkling at the stench that filled his nose. There were definitely people here, at the very least. He could only hope that they weren't one of the many groups of people who wanted his head on a platter. Gritting his teeth, Michael dragged himself beneath the shade of the trees, collapsing in a heap once the morning sun was no longer beating down upon him. He dropped his bag at his side, his body curling up as he nosed and sniffed at his own wounds, searching for some sign of infection. He sighed heavily as he began to drag his tongue over his mussed up fur, trying to keep the cuts littering his body clean so that they hopefully wouldn't become infected, or worse in some other way. He could hear the signs of life all around him from the trees, and he found himself looking around, calling out softly, "Hello? Anybody there who can fucking help me?" It wasn't the nicest greeting, but it got the point across. He pulled his legs in close after saying this, licking gently at the slightly balding spots on his legs where his fur had been chewed at, very glad that he was no longer pushing tender skin into the blazing hot sands.
( don't feel the need to match this!! Really only the last two paragraphs are vitally important, the ones before the line are just backstory )
[glow=#75603C,1,000]" oh, it's a setup, no, no, we won't fall. "[/glow]
Re: WELCOME TO LOS SANTOS ☆ joining - CAUSTIC. - 02-10-2020
[table][tr][td][/td][td]
CAUSTIC
Caustic was a criminal, by the definition of the law. Killing Dr. Humbert over his experiments had been completely justified. His boss was trying to stop his work, the beautiful gas as it twisted in the air and danced with death.
Faking his own death was a ten year dent in his plans, but reemerging as Caustic, the Toxic Trapper of the Apex Games, free to do as he wanted and use his fellow legends as test subjects. Watching Dr. Humbert suffocate behind glass as his thumb held down the button was so good.
Caustic was seen in few places about the Pitt, he only made his presence in the caves and the forest. His fur was too thick to trek through the desert safely, and his need for privacy kept him away from the camp and temples.
His head shot upward, tail wagging, ears up as blood wafted into his nose. He took a deep inhale, the scent of copper and iron producing a shudder from him. The Wolf was excited, and Caustic wondered what test subject awaited him.
It cried out for help, and Caustic began to break into a sprint, stopping briefly to recollect himself. Death was slow and patient, unlike life. He took a moment to cringe at himself, reminding himself to be calm. The blood would be waiting for him when he got there. The wolf resumed at a quick pace, slinking over a downed, burned tree, eyes settling on the bobcat. Green puffed from his jaws and nose with every breathe, and his pupils grew in size as Caustic looked upon his wounds."Greetings." Kydobi would want this one, if it was intent on joining. It looked like an adult and the Pitt needed adults more than ever. The wolf drew closer, his tail wagging madly, eyes scanning over the bobcat. Internally, Caustic was counting every wound, thinking of how it bleed and guesstimating its deepness.
The was the most excited Cautsic had been since his arrival.
"You are in the Pitt. I am Dr. Caustic." He made sure to make the other aware of his intellect with the Doctor thrown in there. Aine had made that mistake already and Caustic wanted them to be aware.
"Please hold still. I am going to inspect your wounds until a medic arrives."
Faking his own death was a ten year dent in his plans, but reemerging as Caustic, the Toxic Trapper of the Apex Games, free to do as he wanted and use his fellow legends as test subjects. Watching Dr. Humbert suffocate behind glass as his thumb held down the button was so good.
Caustic was seen in few places about the Pitt, he only made his presence in the caves and the forest. His fur was too thick to trek through the desert safely, and his need for privacy kept him away from the camp and temples.
His head shot upward, tail wagging, ears up as blood wafted into his nose. He took a deep inhale, the scent of copper and iron producing a shudder from him. The Wolf was excited, and Caustic wondered what test subject awaited him.
It cried out for help, and Caustic began to break into a sprint, stopping briefly to recollect himself. Death was slow and patient, unlike life. He took a moment to cringe at himself, reminding himself to be calm. The blood would be waiting for him when he got there. The wolf resumed at a quick pace, slinking over a downed, burned tree, eyes settling on the bobcat. Green puffed from his jaws and nose with every breathe, and his pupils grew in size as Caustic looked upon his wounds."Greetings." Kydobi would want this one, if it was intent on joining. It looked like an adult and the Pitt needed adults more than ever. The wolf drew closer, his tail wagging madly, eyes scanning over the bobcat. Internally, Caustic was counting every wound, thinking of how it bleed and guesstimating its deepness.
The was the most excited Cautsic had been since his arrival.
"You are in the Pitt. I am Dr. Caustic." He made sure to make the other aware of his intellect with the Doctor thrown in there. Aine had made that mistake already and Caustic wanted them to be aware.
"Please hold still. I am going to inspect your wounds until a medic arrives."
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Re: WELCOME TO LOS SANTOS ☆ joining - fulzanin - 02-10-2020
decisions to decisions are made and not bought
Blood usually would scare a creature. Herbivores commonly would flee from areas where blood had been spilled in order to save their own. Astiar shared some aspects of such a thing, but more so with actually seeing a brutal sight. The dragon could, truly, care less for the sight or smell of blood. Dismemberment likely would be what pushed the cicada beyond being mildly repulsed. Buzzing announced his approach as it commonly did. The call for help, the noise, was what truthfully brought him over. The injuries he could see with his vibrant red eyes made small whines sound from him. However, another member of the hive was already here. Likely he would be helped swiftly. The dragon eyed his talons, deciding that if he had to help he would entirely be prepared to help carry the wounded newcomer. He had the size for it, and certainly would want to help someone if they were going to be joining them. He chittered noisily as if it would verbalize his offer to aid when and if the time came.
control yourself and take only what you need from it
TAGS 9/4/19:
Re: WELCOME TO LOS SANTOS ☆ joining - michael t. - 02-10-2020
Michael supposed that the first to arrive on the scene being someone who didn't want to fucking kill him on sight was a bonus. That meant, hopefully, that this place hadn't heard of him, and he wasn't about to escape from one enemy group to be snatched up by yet another. However, Michael's relief and happiness was short lived, because the canine that showed up first was... odd. Michael definitely had experience with odd canines in the past, both from enemies and from Trevor, but he had never seen someone so utterly delighted at the sight of someone's injuries. Caustic's eyes were glittering with excitement, and his tail was wagging frantically from side to side behind him, and Michael could feel his skin crawl beneath his thick pelt. Sure, maybe he didn't really feel remorse when he killed people, and hell, maybe there were even times where he took satisfaction in wrenching life from others, but he didn't have a manic glee in him like Caustic seemed to currently have, staring down at him like a fresh piece of meat. It made him feel like the prey to Caustic's predator, and his ears pinned down against his head, his lips pulling back in a snarl briefly. He was ready to fight until that last bit of energy was expelled from his body and he finally succumbed to his wounds, if necessary, but thankfully he didn't even get as far as snapping at Caustic, since the other was speaking up in a gruff tone.
Dr. Caustic. The title didn't really put him any more at ease, since Caustic was still staring like that, but what choice did he have, really? This guy was willing to help him out, and if he didn't get some help soon, he knew that he was going to bleed out. Forcing his fur to lay down flat and his mouth to pull from its current rage filled snarling expression, Michael just stared at Caustic for a long moment, taking in everything about the other male, searching for weaknesses. Eventually he let his head rest back down against the earth, his voice tired as he meowed, "...Alright, I guess. I don't know what the hell a 'Pitt' is, but if you're willing to help me, I'll fuckin' take it." He could've sounded a little bit more grateful and he knew as much, but he also found that he didn't really care. If this Dr. Caustic guy was gonna keep staring at his wounds like he was aching to stick a paw in them, then why should Michael be nice? At least he wasn't being all fucking creepy.
The bobcat let his head lay heavily against the ground, staying still as Caustic had order him to do. As he did so, he kept his side pressed securely against his bag, protecting everything that was within. He knew he still had his glasses and whiskey inside, as well as his cigarettes and jewelry. It was all stuff he very much didn't want stolen from him – not after all of the effort that he had gone through to steal it for himself. However, his mind was wrenched from thinking about his possessions when a sudden annoying buzzing filled his ears. His eyes narrowed a little as he looked around, his head swinging from side to side to cover the ground that his left eye couldn't grasp. When he caught sight of Astiar, his entire body tensed up considerably, a string of curses leaving him as he shifted away, pressing back firmly against the tree behind him. It hurt like hell to disturb his wounds in such a way, but he found that he didn't care, just hissing, "Fuckin' A! What the hell is that thing? Why the fuck is it buzzing at me?" He had never seen anything like Astiar before, and while he was fairly sure if he was in a more lucid state he could identify its weakness, he wasn't exactly in tip top condition at the moment. The blistering ache currently running through his wounds was enough to remind him of that.
Dr. Caustic. The title didn't really put him any more at ease, since Caustic was still staring like that, but what choice did he have, really? This guy was willing to help him out, and if he didn't get some help soon, he knew that he was going to bleed out. Forcing his fur to lay down flat and his mouth to pull from its current rage filled snarling expression, Michael just stared at Caustic for a long moment, taking in everything about the other male, searching for weaknesses. Eventually he let his head rest back down against the earth, his voice tired as he meowed, "...Alright, I guess. I don't know what the hell a 'Pitt' is, but if you're willing to help me, I'll fuckin' take it." He could've sounded a little bit more grateful and he knew as much, but he also found that he didn't really care. If this Dr. Caustic guy was gonna keep staring at his wounds like he was aching to stick a paw in them, then why should Michael be nice? At least he wasn't being all fucking creepy.
The bobcat let his head lay heavily against the ground, staying still as Caustic had order him to do. As he did so, he kept his side pressed securely against his bag, protecting everything that was within. He knew he still had his glasses and whiskey inside, as well as his cigarettes and jewelry. It was all stuff he very much didn't want stolen from him – not after all of the effort that he had gone through to steal it for himself. However, his mind was wrenched from thinking about his possessions when a sudden annoying buzzing filled his ears. His eyes narrowed a little as he looked around, his head swinging from side to side to cover the ground that his left eye couldn't grasp. When he caught sight of Astiar, his entire body tensed up considerably, a string of curses leaving him as he shifted away, pressing back firmly against the tree behind him. It hurt like hell to disturb his wounds in such a way, but he found that he didn't care, just hissing, "Fuckin' A! What the hell is that thing? Why the fuck is it buzzing at me?" He had never seen anything like Astiar before, and while he was fairly sure if he was in a more lucid state he could identify its weakness, he wasn't exactly in tip top condition at the moment. The blistering ache currently running through his wounds was enough to remind him of that.
[glow=#75603C,1,000]" oh, it's a setup, no, no, we won't fall. "[/glow]
Re: WELCOME TO LOS SANTOS ☆ joining - CAUSTIC. - 02-10-2020
[table][tr][td][/td][td]
CAUSTIC
Caustic turned his face away from Micheal as two coughs left him in succession, then returned to look at the bobcat. He took in a breath, suddenly aware of his tail wagging. It stopped, for a moment, until Caustic's gaze refocused on the subject's wounds, and the tail wagging resumed. Caustic made a movement to reach out with his left paw, ears perking as the buzzing of Astair arrived, and the dragon, with it. The wolf's left paw, the one missing two toes, slapped onto Micheal's shoulder instinctively as the bobcat moved in an attempt to retreat. Normally, this motion would have been a rough grab of the shoulders, but Caustic was unable to grab him with the wolf's paws.
"Hold still."
Caustic's baritone voice was curt and short, a simple command from the wolf. He could feel Micheal's blood on his paw pads, and it excited him. "That is Astair. He is a combination of something from the Draconis bloodline and a member of the Cicadoidea superfamily." He planned on narrowing down exactly was Astair was in the future.
If he was still here in a month. Caustic didn't want the grow comfortable with this situation.
"You have lost a large amount of blood from your wounds." As for right now, Caustic was only inspecting them. He had yet to learn all of their herbs, and didn't want to.
He drew closer, towering over the bobcat, and gently lifting his paw to poke and count each of the wounds, mark their location in his head to transcribe the information to... who was the medic, anyways? Aine or Gael probably knew a few things.
"We will take you to the camp if they fail to arrive soon."
"Hold still."
Caustic's baritone voice was curt and short, a simple command from the wolf. He could feel Micheal's blood on his paw pads, and it excited him. "That is Astair. He is a combination of something from the Draconis bloodline and a member of the Cicadoidea superfamily." He planned on narrowing down exactly was Astair was in the future.
If he was still here in a month. Caustic didn't want the grow comfortable with this situation.
"You have lost a large amount of blood from your wounds." As for right now, Caustic was only inspecting them. He had yet to learn all of their herbs, and didn't want to.
He drew closer, towering over the bobcat, and gently lifting his paw to poke and count each of the wounds, mark their location in his head to transcribe the information to... who was the medic, anyways? Aine or Gael probably knew a few things.
"We will take you to the camp if they fail to arrive soon."
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Re: WELCOME TO LOS SANTOS ☆ joining - gael - 02-11-2020
[align=center]
♛ GAEL Ó BROIN
As father to a girl fond of herbs, the black and red vulpine began taking care to carry a few on him -- as long as he demonstrated such a habit, the odds Aine would follow suit were high. Perhaps Gael should gift her a small satchel like his own.Truthfully, Gael only knew herbal medicine due to his formal upbringing -- independently, he may have only possessed a passing interest beyond first aid. The faerie ignored both Caustic and Astiar in favor of the unfamiliar bobcat, his golden-hazel eyes quickly taking stock of where the scent of blood had came from. All he said to the two was a simple, cold-cut, "give me room."
"What is your name?" The Irish-accented fae inquired blandly as he began shifting through his small satchel. He only carried the essentials, but first aid could save lives. He carefully removed a vial of marigold poultice and a few bandages. "How long have you been injured?"
Gael worked with clean efficiency in mind, quickly moving to apply the marigold poultice over the bobcat's wounds, followed by the bandages. "This will help stop infection and the bleeding," Anymore blood loss and the vulpine expected the feline to pass out. "You should be fine soon enough, assuming you refrain from reopening your injuries."
"Do you intend to join us, or simply request a place to recover?"
"ISN'T IT LOVELY?" —-- gael ó broin / faerie / pittian / lamby
Re: WELCOME TO LOS SANTOS ☆ joining - trojan g. - 02-11-2020
[div style="font-family: impact; font-size: 38pt; color: white; text-shadow: 1px 1px black, 1px -1px black, -1px 1px black, -1px -1px black; position: absolute; margin-top: -36px; max-width: 625px; text-align: center;"]SWEENEY CALLAHAN FALLOUT
[div style="margin: auto; background-color: #fff; max-width: 600px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; color: #000; overflow: auto; padding: 6%; margin-top: 10px; line-height: 17px; border: #000 solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 1px; "]Last time Sweeney had gotten out of the nursery, she had walked out of the Pitt territory and gone into the neutral lands, watching as her father had been killed, watching as no one else dared to help him to make it so that he could live and see his children. She had known what he had looked like - there weren't very many foxes that had been leaders of the Pitt - but she hadn't ever actually met him up until that point, and it had broken her. She had wanted to get revenge for him somehow, even though she didn't understand the feeling that had come from the sight - and she knew from that point on the only ones she'd be able to trust was her sisters, all of them as clueless as herself as to why that had happened. So it was an odd sight to see the child out and around in the desert of the group, especially since she was tired and was thirsty. It was so hot, and there was no water that she could see anywhere near her. But she saw others that she knew - didn't like them much, but she knew them - and started to make her way over, ears flattening to her head as she saw the male that had been hurt, eyes rolling. He had walked her hadn't he? So he was fine with walking back to their camp and not getting patched up here. She needed water, and she was lost. "What'd you do?" She'd ask matter-of-factly, watching as Gael worked his medicine magic.
Re: WELCOME TO LOS SANTOS ☆ joining - toboggan - 02-12-2020
Currently, Sweeney was Noor's favourite sibling. She had proved her loyalty when Mercede accused Noor of not acting 'lady' enough, and basically told the white-pelted bitch to stick her beliefs up her ass. Such a stouthearted gesture garnered the cross fox's interest, and thus, she saw her sister - who was only older by a factor of mere seconds - as someone worth sticking by. Hence, when Sweeney left the nursery today and pursued the unknown, Noor trailed after her. She had a good track record when it came to finding fun, so tagging along might be a beneficial move.
Many inklings formed within the confines of Noor's mind as to what she'd find with Sweeney. Maybe treasure, or perhaps a delicious snack? Oh, she'd absolutely kill for some ice cream right about now. What she didn't expect to discover, however, was a man. A wounded man, at that. He lay on the ground in pain, she observed, and had his wounds tended to by none other than Gael. At this discovery, pity for this sorry soul began brewing in her tummy. Gael came off as nothing more than a pussy-ass bitch. He ran away when she was performing for everyone to see, so the likelihood of him running away from an injured person was high. So she prepared to take his place for when he inevitably fled the scene.
"What's your name?" she asks abruptly, not pausing to consider his current condition and how it may affect his ability to respond. "Oh- and I'd be careful if I were you. The person who is 'healing' you is not to be trusted."
Many inklings formed within the confines of Noor's mind as to what she'd find with Sweeney. Maybe treasure, or perhaps a delicious snack? Oh, she'd absolutely kill for some ice cream right about now. What she didn't expect to discover, however, was a man. A wounded man, at that. He lay on the ground in pain, she observed, and had his wounds tended to by none other than Gael. At this discovery, pity for this sorry soul began brewing in her tummy. Gael came off as nothing more than a pussy-ass bitch. He ran away when she was performing for everyone to see, so the likelihood of him running away from an injured person was high. So she prepared to take his place for when he inevitably fled the scene.
"What's your name?" she asks abruptly, not pausing to consider his current condition and how it may affect his ability to respond. "Oh- and I'd be careful if I were you. The person who is 'healing' you is not to be trusted."
Re: WELCOME TO LOS SANTOS ☆ joining - aine. - 02-12-2020
[align=center]
I'll come back when you call me
"Da?" The petite vixen scrambled over her paws, bemused at the sheer amount of Pittians present. This was not the marketplace. Soon the scent of blood mixing with the familiar aroma of marigold caused her to blink. She didn't know why everyone else was here but her father must be trying to help someone who was hurt.As such, she couldn't hold back the startled, indigent scoff at Noor's words. Her ears flicked back immediately, uneager to draw too much attention to herself. She simply didn't like the younger girl's rude attitude. Much less when her father was actually helping someone. Whatever... The little fox did not want to cause trouble, especially not in front of a stranger.
Instead she slipped closer to her father, golden hues flickering between him and the strange bobcat. It looked like her father had it covered. Probably for the better. Aine had never actually treated anyone larger than herself before. Even if she knew what to do... She didn't want to mess it up. Instead, she offered the stranger a friendly, albeit shy, smile.
"… Da, do you 'ave poppy seeds?" Marigold and bandages certainly solved the open wound problem but... Well it probably hurt.
— aine | the pitt | commodore of the crows | fae druid —
Re: WELCOME TO LOS SANTOS ☆ joining - michael t. - 02-12-2020
One second, Michael had just been laid out on the ground, pitiful – not fucking pitiful, he found himself snarling out to that little voice in his head – and bleeding out. Caustic and whatever the fuck that giant bug creature was gathered in close around him, one's eyes glittering with excitement and curiosity, while the other's eyes reflected nothing but a nearly empty mind beneath them. It had hardly been what the bobcat would consider ideal, but it was certainly better than whatever the fuck was happening now. Now there were so many goddamn people all crowded around him, only half of them fucking children and only a small portion of them actually helping with his wounds. The male found his ears pinning back, anger and anxiety spiking hot in his chest as he resisted the urge to just snarl at all of them to go the fuck away. He knew that wasn't the best choice now, considering he was still very much injured, and at least the small portion that was helping was actually helping him, rather than just standing around to watch the life drain from his eyes. He decided to focus on Caustic first, figuring going one at a time would stop him from lashing out, the twisted buzzing almost like tv static still roaring through his body, "Yeah, no fuckin' shit I've lost a lot of blood. Trust me, I could feel it when it was pouring outta me." He didn't even bother trying to discuss Astiar, finding the other's explanation to be insufficient. Draconis? Cicadoidea? It sounded all like nonsense, like Astiar had been messily made up and mashed together by the universe.
The next person who had arrived on the scene was Gael, the vulpine moving over swiftly and immediately starting to get to work on the injuries littering Michael's body. He asked for a name, and Michael suddenly felt his mouth go dry. Sure, these guys hadn't yet tried to rip him limb from limb, and it didn't seem like his exploits had reached out this far, but there was no guarantee that they wouldn't recognize his name. Voice strained, he decided to use one of his aliases, "Michael... my name is Michael De Santa." Gael swiftly followed up his question with yet another, and the bobcat found himself snorting, a dry laugh leaving him as he resisted the urge to yank away from the sting of the poultice, "I don't fuckin' know... a few weeks, maybe? At least to this extent. I've been in various states for the last few months." He was trying not to be too much of a dick, since Gael was obviously helping him out, but to accurately predict for how long he had been injured now? He was pretty sure only a mathematician or a god could do that at this point. At the last question that fell from Gael's lips, Michael found himself glancing around, eyes scanning over each of the faces that lingered around him. It was a long moment before he responded, tail twitching and lashing behind him, "That depends... you guys some kinda cult?" He had never heard of The Pitt before, and he and Trevor had gotten into enough cult shit in the past for him to want no part of it.
The last three to arrive on the scene were the fucking kids. All foxes, and all staring at him in various states of wide eyed curiosity, although they ripped their gazes away fairly swiftly. Sweeney's question was blunt and uncaring, and Michael found himself recoiling in surprise before he responded, not sure if the question was truly directed at him or Gael, "Got goddamn kidnapped, is what I did... what're you, like, three months old? You guys have a lotta kids just wandering around out here?" The last question was directed more at Gael and Caustic, before his attention was ripped away by Noor. He blinked at her for a moment before he spoke, aggravation in his tone, "S'Michael, like I said." When she mentioned Gael's untrustworthy nature, the bobcat found himself snorting, unable to ignore the irony of that statement being said to him. Putting his head down a bit, Michael grumbled in a low tone, faintly smirking, "That's fine, kid. Trust me, I ain't the type to trust anybody, even when they patch me up – thank you, by the way." The last part was directed up at Gael, his voice a little rough from dragging himself across the desert. Aine had no questions for him, but Michael found that he didn't mind that much. He didn't particularly like being the center of attention in this shitshow.
The next person who had arrived on the scene was Gael, the vulpine moving over swiftly and immediately starting to get to work on the injuries littering Michael's body. He asked for a name, and Michael suddenly felt his mouth go dry. Sure, these guys hadn't yet tried to rip him limb from limb, and it didn't seem like his exploits had reached out this far, but there was no guarantee that they wouldn't recognize his name. Voice strained, he decided to use one of his aliases, "Michael... my name is Michael De Santa." Gael swiftly followed up his question with yet another, and the bobcat found himself snorting, a dry laugh leaving him as he resisted the urge to yank away from the sting of the poultice, "I don't fuckin' know... a few weeks, maybe? At least to this extent. I've been in various states for the last few months." He was trying not to be too much of a dick, since Gael was obviously helping him out, but to accurately predict for how long he had been injured now? He was pretty sure only a mathematician or a god could do that at this point. At the last question that fell from Gael's lips, Michael found himself glancing around, eyes scanning over each of the faces that lingered around him. It was a long moment before he responded, tail twitching and lashing behind him, "That depends... you guys some kinda cult?" He had never heard of The Pitt before, and he and Trevor had gotten into enough cult shit in the past for him to want no part of it.
The last three to arrive on the scene were the fucking kids. All foxes, and all staring at him in various states of wide eyed curiosity, although they ripped their gazes away fairly swiftly. Sweeney's question was blunt and uncaring, and Michael found himself recoiling in surprise before he responded, not sure if the question was truly directed at him or Gael, "Got goddamn kidnapped, is what I did... what're you, like, three months old? You guys have a lotta kids just wandering around out here?" The last question was directed more at Gael and Caustic, before his attention was ripped away by Noor. He blinked at her for a moment before he spoke, aggravation in his tone, "S'Michael, like I said." When she mentioned Gael's untrustworthy nature, the bobcat found himself snorting, unable to ignore the irony of that statement being said to him. Putting his head down a bit, Michael grumbled in a low tone, faintly smirking, "That's fine, kid. Trust me, I ain't the type to trust anybody, even when they patch me up – thank you, by the way." The last part was directed up at Gael, his voice a little rough from dragging himself across the desert. Aine had no questions for him, but Michael found that he didn't mind that much. He didn't particularly like being the center of attention in this shitshow.
[glow=#75603C,1,000]" oh, it's a setup, no, no, we won't fall. "[/glow]