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edges of mirror basks in gold - p, michael - fulzanin - 03-03-2020
Blits was a simple person who liked simple things. He did things in the simplest manner that he possibly could think of. Trying to find things? People? He didn't go scouring deep into locations. He would run around and give things a glance. He was quite speedy for something of his size, rushing around and occasionally taking flight so that he could better gauge his surroundings. Having flight at his disposal didn't make searching any easier. All the trees and different landscapes overwhelmed his fried brain, and he'd swiftly have to land again. What he was looking for? A variety of things. His boyfriend was top priority. He had to find his mate to ensure that he was safe and not hurt. There was hardly a limit on what the Sinornithosaurus would do to keep his beloved safe. He'd been doing better with excessive violence. Excessive searching, however, was still entirely plausible and within the realm for what Blits would do.
Searching for his boyfriend was not the only thing that was on his mind. He'd found a couple chickens early in his search. Spoke with them; due to his native language practically being bird speak it was simple enough for Blits to accomplish. It'd been quite fun. He'd lost the flock of chickens. It was another thing that was tacked onto his search, his search that had begun to lapse over the span of days. He was hungry, yes, and quite tired. He wouldn't be deterred. When his mind was set onto something, he had a hard time shifting his perspective. Occasionally he did stop to try and find something to eat, but palm tree leaves near the coastline swiftly grew far from being pleasant. They were too sharp, too jagged, too rough. The taste wasn't much better, either. Blits' face had scrunched up in disgust, and he'd continued on his search. How many days had it been since he'd wound up here and begun his search? He wasn't sure. It didn't matter, because he felt like he was getting close. Despite all the false alarms of mistaking the chittering of tropical birds for a chicken, Blits felt as if he was making progress. Was that progress towards collapsing from exhaustion or finding what he was looking for? Not even he, the magic extraordinaire, could tell.
Blits certainly wasn't as great at staying up for absurdly lengthy amounts of time as he had once been. He was fairly certain his record of going without sleep had spanned a few months, but that ability had been demolished by years of actually eating and sleeping as a normal living being should. A few days running and flying around while on a wild chicken-and-boyfriend hunt? It certainly tugged on him, giving rise to sluggish movements and a less than usable speed to wander around with. While he was stubborn with many things such as his methods for finding and his thought processes, sleep was something that he was far more lenient about. Eating, too, but he'd managed to secure a few fruits a few hours ago and so hunger was less than applicable as a means of annoyance. He didn't have a place to stay, though. That thought had deterred him the previous day from seeking out sleep. Now that Blits was hardly able to keep his eyes open, he knew that he'd just have to suck it up and find somewhere to rest. Where? Not a clue, his mind had already used up the assets presented to it for the day while frantically searching for chickens and boyfriend. Somewhere quiet would work, outside too considering that he had no home to go to yet.
Blits didn't think much about sleeping outside and in the open. Wasn't as if he was about to be harmed, surely. Thus far the people that he had met were quite pleasant. Hiding desires during an initial meeting certainly did the trick. Being stolen from while sleeping was so far out of his mindset that it likely was not even present in it's barest form. The Sinornithosaurus slowly laid down, bunching up his legs beneath him. His tail awkwardly rested beside him, the two bands present as always. It wasn't as if Blits ever had reason to take those significant items off - and it was not as if he was able to. Dense electrical burns caused for flesh to swell, mostly covered by the dense seafoam green plumage of his tail. They refused to let the bands move more than a few inches at best. They could be rotated, yes, but they had been slid on before the burns had marked his body. Now they couldn't be removed. Blits was quite glad for it spare when he tried to polish them, for getting all of the bands clean was quite difficult when fluff got in the way. Sleeping somewhere quiet was good for falling asleep. Escaping attempts at robbery, however, was less so.
Searching for his boyfriend was not the only thing that was on his mind. He'd found a couple chickens early in his search. Spoke with them; due to his native language practically being bird speak it was simple enough for Blits to accomplish. It'd been quite fun. He'd lost the flock of chickens. It was another thing that was tacked onto his search, his search that had begun to lapse over the span of days. He was hungry, yes, and quite tired. He wouldn't be deterred. When his mind was set onto something, he had a hard time shifting his perspective. Occasionally he did stop to try and find something to eat, but palm tree leaves near the coastline swiftly grew far from being pleasant. They were too sharp, too jagged, too rough. The taste wasn't much better, either. Blits' face had scrunched up in disgust, and he'd continued on his search. How many days had it been since he'd wound up here and begun his search? He wasn't sure. It didn't matter, because he felt like he was getting close. Despite all the false alarms of mistaking the chittering of tropical birds for a chicken, Blits felt as if he was making progress. Was that progress towards collapsing from exhaustion or finding what he was looking for? Not even he, the magic extraordinaire, could tell.
Blits certainly wasn't as great at staying up for absurdly lengthy amounts of time as he had once been. He was fairly certain his record of going without sleep had spanned a few months, but that ability had been demolished by years of actually eating and sleeping as a normal living being should. A few days running and flying around while on a wild chicken-and-boyfriend hunt? It certainly tugged on him, giving rise to sluggish movements and a less than usable speed to wander around with. While he was stubborn with many things such as his methods for finding and his thought processes, sleep was something that he was far more lenient about. Eating, too, but he'd managed to secure a few fruits a few hours ago and so hunger was less than applicable as a means of annoyance. He didn't have a place to stay, though. That thought had deterred him the previous day from seeking out sleep. Now that Blits was hardly able to keep his eyes open, he knew that he'd just have to suck it up and find somewhere to rest. Where? Not a clue, his mind had already used up the assets presented to it for the day while frantically searching for chickens and boyfriend. Somewhere quiet would work, outside too considering that he had no home to go to yet.
Blits didn't think much about sleeping outside and in the open. Wasn't as if he was about to be harmed, surely. Thus far the people that he had met were quite pleasant. Hiding desires during an initial meeting certainly did the trick. Being stolen from while sleeping was so far out of his mindset that it likely was not even present in it's barest form. The Sinornithosaurus slowly laid down, bunching up his legs beneath him. His tail awkwardly rested beside him, the two bands present as always. It wasn't as if Blits ever had reason to take those significant items off - and it was not as if he was able to. Dense electrical burns caused for flesh to swell, mostly covered by the dense seafoam green plumage of his tail. They refused to let the bands move more than a few inches at best. They could be rotated, yes, but they had been slid on before the burns had marked his body. Now they couldn't be removed. Blits was quite glad for it spare when he tried to polish them, for getting all of the bands clean was quite difficult when fluff got in the way. Sleeping somewhere quiet was good for falling asleep. Escaping attempts at robbery, however, was less so.
TAGS 2/27/20:
Re: edges of mirror basks in gold - p, michael - michael t. - 03-03-2020
Michael had hardly thought much of Blits when he had first met the male. The strange, brightly colored creature that had flung himself against the bell was hardly the bobcat's type of person, if he even had a type of person. All things considered, Michael didn't really like many people, with the only one that he more than just tolerated being Trevor, and Blits was certainly a very far cry from what Trevor was. Both were loud, yes, but where Trevor was all jagged edges and danger and surprising smarts hidden in an insane package, Blits seemed to be nothing but panic and incompetence and distractions. It had been hard enough, attempting to keep his attention and eyes on Blits while the other had moved jerkily around at his joining, thanks to the bright eye searing colors the other possessed on his body. This had only been added to by the fact that Blits actually possessed something of interest to Michael. Nothing to do with his personality, mind you, but to do with the items he had on his body. Two of those items being the bands that were fit snugly around the other's tail. They had caught the sunlight bathing down upon the scene just right for Michael to see them in their full glory, slightly dirty around the edges where metal met skin and fluff, but the bobcat was sire that he could fix that. Immediately upon seeing them, Michael had felt the usual feeling that dragged him into trouble and crime and violence in the past: want.
Being a greedy asshole came naturally to Michael, and had essentially ever since he had first managed to escape away from the tyranny that his – hopefully – now dead father had enacted. However, this greed was not only a matter of nature, but also one of nurture. As a young boy, Michael had been deprived of damn near everything. Love, food, respect, any sense of wellbeing he had ever had. He had been an only child, born to a mother who didn't even care about his existence and a father whose only worry was when he would get his next drink. It had led to an environment where Michael had to scramble for every little scrap he got, making himself tough despite the baby fat that had clung to his stomach and face and the overall weakness that his runt-ish form had inspired. Once he had finally gotten away from a world where he was constantly forced to walk on eggshells and deprive himself of even the most basic of needs, Michael had done a near complete 360 from how he had been as a child. He gorged himself, fighting and taking whatever he wanted, whether it be food or jewelry or just anything else that caught his fancy. After a life where he was allowed absolutely nothing, he wanted everything, and if anyone stood in his way...? Well, let's just say that there was a reason why he and Trevor were so widely known and wanted.
Ever since Blits had joined the group, Michael had been keeping an eye on him, at least from afar. The bobcat had his own things to worry about, such as the return of Trevor and the new addition of a family of rats into his home which meant that he couldn't be ever vigilant about where Blits was and what he was doing, but he knew enough. After all, it hadn't been hard to figure out that Blits would go searching for his boyfriend after the whole fit he threw at his joining. Michael had no idea if there was even a little bit of a chance of Blits actually finding the other, but he also found that he didn't really care. All he cared about was that the strange creature was distracted, and was wearing himself out, which was most definitely an advantage for him. A tired target was always easier to anatch from than an alert one, and Michael doubted that Blits was particularly observant even when he was in top shape, so he found that he wasn't too worried about attempting to get the bands off of the other. It would be a simple plan. Get in after Blits passed out, grab the bands, and go the fuck back home so that he could lock them away in his jewelry box, hopefully to be worn at some later date long after Blits had either forgotten about them or fucked off with his missing boyfriend. It should've been the perfect plan.
And in fact, at first at least, the plan was going great. Just as expected, Blits was beginning to turn out tired from his wild goose chase – or rather, wild chicken chase – around the entirely of Typhoon territory, and Michael could tell that he was close to his breaking point. It hadn't been hard to track him then, Michael choosing to watch from a distance as he scarfed down lunch or hung out at the tavern. Eventually it had happened: Blits finally decided to lay down. Michael felt his heart jump excitedly in his chest with the usual thrill of the heist as soon as the other closed his eyes, and he dug his claws into the sandy ground to keep from getting too hasty. After all, he wanted to wait until Blits was actually asleep. After a while had passed, the con man finally decided it was safe to go for it, creeping forward carefully. Once he was near, he stretched his neck out slowly, his pearly whites digging around the bands as he tried to pull them off, tugging firmly. However, there was little give in the bands, the silver instead just shifting and spinning slightly as it stayed stubbornly in place. Michael felt hot anger and embarrassment rise up in him as he continued to tug almost viciously at one of the bands, his small body wrenching with all of his weight and still accomplishing very little. It seemed as though perhaps this heist would not be as easy as he thought.
Being a greedy asshole came naturally to Michael, and had essentially ever since he had first managed to escape away from the tyranny that his – hopefully – now dead father had enacted. However, this greed was not only a matter of nature, but also one of nurture. As a young boy, Michael had been deprived of damn near everything. Love, food, respect, any sense of wellbeing he had ever had. He had been an only child, born to a mother who didn't even care about his existence and a father whose only worry was when he would get his next drink. It had led to an environment where Michael had to scramble for every little scrap he got, making himself tough despite the baby fat that had clung to his stomach and face and the overall weakness that his runt-ish form had inspired. Once he had finally gotten away from a world where he was constantly forced to walk on eggshells and deprive himself of even the most basic of needs, Michael had done a near complete 360 from how he had been as a child. He gorged himself, fighting and taking whatever he wanted, whether it be food or jewelry or just anything else that caught his fancy. After a life where he was allowed absolutely nothing, he wanted everything, and if anyone stood in his way...? Well, let's just say that there was a reason why he and Trevor were so widely known and wanted.
Ever since Blits had joined the group, Michael had been keeping an eye on him, at least from afar. The bobcat had his own things to worry about, such as the return of Trevor and the new addition of a family of rats into his home which meant that he couldn't be ever vigilant about where Blits was and what he was doing, but he knew enough. After all, it hadn't been hard to figure out that Blits would go searching for his boyfriend after the whole fit he threw at his joining. Michael had no idea if there was even a little bit of a chance of Blits actually finding the other, but he also found that he didn't really care. All he cared about was that the strange creature was distracted, and was wearing himself out, which was most definitely an advantage for him. A tired target was always easier to anatch from than an alert one, and Michael doubted that Blits was particularly observant even when he was in top shape, so he found that he wasn't too worried about attempting to get the bands off of the other. It would be a simple plan. Get in after Blits passed out, grab the bands, and go the fuck back home so that he could lock them away in his jewelry box, hopefully to be worn at some later date long after Blits had either forgotten about them or fucked off with his missing boyfriend. It should've been the perfect plan.
And in fact, at first at least, the plan was going great. Just as expected, Blits was beginning to turn out tired from his wild goose chase – or rather, wild chicken chase – around the entirely of Typhoon territory, and Michael could tell that he was close to his breaking point. It hadn't been hard to track him then, Michael choosing to watch from a distance as he scarfed down lunch or hung out at the tavern. Eventually it had happened: Blits finally decided to lay down. Michael felt his heart jump excitedly in his chest with the usual thrill of the heist as soon as the other closed his eyes, and he dug his claws into the sandy ground to keep from getting too hasty. After all, he wanted to wait until Blits was actually asleep. After a while had passed, the con man finally decided it was safe to go for it, creeping forward carefully. Once he was near, he stretched his neck out slowly, his pearly whites digging around the bands as he tried to pull them off, tugging firmly. However, there was little give in the bands, the silver instead just shifting and spinning slightly as it stayed stubbornly in place. Michael felt hot anger and embarrassment rise up in him as he continued to tug almost viciously at one of the bands, his small body wrenching with all of his weight and still accomplishing very little. It seemed as though perhaps this heist would not be as easy as he thought.
[glow=#75603C,1,000]" oh, it's a setup, no, no, we won't fall. "[/glow]
Re: edges of mirror basks in gold - p, michael - fulzanin - 03-04-2020
When it came to sleeping habits, Blits had routine back home. He went to bed hours before anyone else would fall asleep. It usually was due to his fried brain denying him any level of function should he try to stay awake longer. Overwhelmed by an entirely new location absolutely drained him. If he'd not been half asleep from exhaustion for the last few hours prior to his slumber, perhaps he would have marveled with his achievement. It wasn't the epitome of self care or anything of the like, but an achievement that he had obtained nonetheless. Instead he had almost risen to a level of wanting to belittle himself for running around rampant while searching. It hadn't helped him learn the territory at all, and if anything it had ruined what little sense of direction Blits had. He'd lived underground most of his life. There was no sun, no wind. There was no way to tell direction other than what one saw. Sights wore down tracks within his mind, allowing for his easily overtasked mind to function with a sense of ease. Running and flying around jungles when Blits had previously never stepped foot in one? Disoriented behavior was certainly applicable.
The last time that he'd ran around while looking for his boyfriend it had followed believing that the other had been dead. Blown up in a car. He'd saw it with his gleaming orange eyes, witnessed and felt the fire. Yet, somehow, the other had lived. Somehow people had snatched him. Had it been before the race that had led to the other being in the car? Had it happened after? Blits hadn't particularly cared. All that had mattered was that somehow his boyfriend was alive and needed to be rescued. That ordeal hadn't taken days - the searching portion. Moping around and nearly falling into states of sheer sadness hadn't counted in Blits' mind. Searching had taken maybe less than a day. This wild chicken and boyfriend hunt had truly pushed him to his limits. It had established it, despite how unlikely it was that Blits' fried mind would be able to apply that information in a way that mattered.
His clinginess towards his boyfriend certainly derived from his youth. Blits' near desperate need - not want - for the other to be present had its roots placed within the entirety of his early life. Hiding away, hardly eating, hardly sleeping, with absolutely little to no contact with anyone. That had been the beginning of many of Blits' problems. His lack of intelligence and wit certainly stemmed from sitting curled up in a ball in a hole in the walls of a castle and doing nothing, not even breathing. Being electrocuted and having his core and mind fried to the limit several times over also disturbed his thought processes. What was normal and pleasant he craved. His boyfriend fell into such a category. There were no lengths that Blits would not undergo to assure that satisfaction, that presence. Even if it meant running rampant in unfamiliar territory in an unfamiliar body. He would not be deterred. It was a similarity, the smallest of them, between an eyesore of a creature and the thief that approached him.
Early to bed was said to make someone wise, as well as wake up earlier. Blits had no such luck with the old human metaphor. Instead, the seafoam colored creature was absolutely clonked out after a few minutes of laying down. Once his orange eyes had shut, that had sealed the deal for him succumbing to slumber. He didn't move or squirm, nor roll over or find a position more comfortable than the one that he had collapsed in. Perfectly still spare the rise and fall of his chest to signal that he was alive and still functioning. When his tail was pounced on, there was absolutely no reaction. Blits was no stranger to being pestered to wake up for falling asleep in less than proper places, and he was no stranger for trying to gather every second of sleep that he could muster. On occasions he would either be sprayed with water - should he fall asleep in the kitchen and be close enough for the sink's hose to reach - or be dragged out of bed. Stubbornness and a refusal to wake up were humorous back home, often warranting a disgruntled look from his boyfriend. Less than pleasant was it in the current.
When the bands were tugged on, they nudged against the electrical wounds that laid beneath the vibrant fluff that covered the Sinornithosaurus. The swelling of yellow flesh that they created was what kept the bands from being removed. The touch fired off what little nerves left that worked, causing for Blits' tail to awkwardly spasm. Not in any severe way, certainly in no way that warranted pain. When the movements became more vigorous, it warranted for Blits to wake up. Flinching from another sharp tug, his head jerked upright and a spill of deranged squawking noises came from him. His tail, previously flinching at random due to destroyed nerves firing off, went rigid before falling still. He craned his head a little, and the glint in his orange eyes spelt out absolute obliviousness. "Oh. Hi, Michael, right?" His words come out slow, decisive - and somehow he can't quite get the pronunciation of the other's name down correctly. Still exhausted is the drowsy creature, and unaware is he of the attempted theft. He doesn't move his tail away, nor does he acknowledge the pains that come from the electrical burns being disturbed. "What's up?" His head tilts, curious, eyes still half-lidded.
The last time that he'd ran around while looking for his boyfriend it had followed believing that the other had been dead. Blown up in a car. He'd saw it with his gleaming orange eyes, witnessed and felt the fire. Yet, somehow, the other had lived. Somehow people had snatched him. Had it been before the race that had led to the other being in the car? Had it happened after? Blits hadn't particularly cared. All that had mattered was that somehow his boyfriend was alive and needed to be rescued. That ordeal hadn't taken days - the searching portion. Moping around and nearly falling into states of sheer sadness hadn't counted in Blits' mind. Searching had taken maybe less than a day. This wild chicken and boyfriend hunt had truly pushed him to his limits. It had established it, despite how unlikely it was that Blits' fried mind would be able to apply that information in a way that mattered.
His clinginess towards his boyfriend certainly derived from his youth. Blits' near desperate need - not want - for the other to be present had its roots placed within the entirety of his early life. Hiding away, hardly eating, hardly sleeping, with absolutely little to no contact with anyone. That had been the beginning of many of Blits' problems. His lack of intelligence and wit certainly stemmed from sitting curled up in a ball in a hole in the walls of a castle and doing nothing, not even breathing. Being electrocuted and having his core and mind fried to the limit several times over also disturbed his thought processes. What was normal and pleasant he craved. His boyfriend fell into such a category. There were no lengths that Blits would not undergo to assure that satisfaction, that presence. Even if it meant running rampant in unfamiliar territory in an unfamiliar body. He would not be deterred. It was a similarity, the smallest of them, between an eyesore of a creature and the thief that approached him.
Early to bed was said to make someone wise, as well as wake up earlier. Blits had no such luck with the old human metaphor. Instead, the seafoam colored creature was absolutely clonked out after a few minutes of laying down. Once his orange eyes had shut, that had sealed the deal for him succumbing to slumber. He didn't move or squirm, nor roll over or find a position more comfortable than the one that he had collapsed in. Perfectly still spare the rise and fall of his chest to signal that he was alive and still functioning. When his tail was pounced on, there was absolutely no reaction. Blits was no stranger to being pestered to wake up for falling asleep in less than proper places, and he was no stranger for trying to gather every second of sleep that he could muster. On occasions he would either be sprayed with water - should he fall asleep in the kitchen and be close enough for the sink's hose to reach - or be dragged out of bed. Stubbornness and a refusal to wake up were humorous back home, often warranting a disgruntled look from his boyfriend. Less than pleasant was it in the current.
When the bands were tugged on, they nudged against the electrical wounds that laid beneath the vibrant fluff that covered the Sinornithosaurus. The swelling of yellow flesh that they created was what kept the bands from being removed. The touch fired off what little nerves left that worked, causing for Blits' tail to awkwardly spasm. Not in any severe way, certainly in no way that warranted pain. When the movements became more vigorous, it warranted for Blits to wake up. Flinching from another sharp tug, his head jerked upright and a spill of deranged squawking noises came from him. His tail, previously flinching at random due to destroyed nerves firing off, went rigid before falling still. He craned his head a little, and the glint in his orange eyes spelt out absolute obliviousness. "Oh. Hi, Michael, right?" His words come out slow, decisive - and somehow he can't quite get the pronunciation of the other's name down correctly. Still exhausted is the drowsy creature, and unaware is he of the attempted theft. He doesn't move his tail away, nor does he acknowledge the pains that come from the electrical burns being disturbed. "What's up?" His head tilts, curious, eyes still half-lidded.
TAGS 2/27/20:
Re: edges of mirror basks in gold - p, michael - michael t. - 03-07-2020
Michael was more than a little acquainted with what it felt like to need someone in your life. For the majority of his young life, he had never known what that felt like, since he had been subjected only to the cold, distant uncaring of his mother, and the harsh, vicious abuses of his father. Neither parent did anything particularly useful, loving, or helpful for the kit, which had led to him harboring a sort of resentment toward them, rather than any sort of need. Unlike Blits, Michael hadn't been able to rely on someone else. He had been forced to learn how to adapt to situations quickly, mostly for his own sake more than the sake of anyone else. If he didn't adapt, then he would've died, killed from the sheer ignorance and disdain that his parents held for him. However, despite this, Michael Townley did indeed end up learning what it felt like to need someone within your life, so much that you would've done anything to ensure their safety. That figure in his life was, of course, Trevor. On some level, Trevor held the same position in Michael's life as Blits's beloved boyfriend held in his, although they never got to that coveted level of title. Michael was chronically panicked about his own sexuality, having been berated and mistreated at a young age just for so much as looking at other males. So the thought of referring to Trevor as his boyfriend, even when the other practically was in every way? It sent shockwaves of panic throughout Michael's entire small, chubby form.
When Michael had first met Trevor, he had thought very little of the other, considering him to just be another thug in the sea of them that resided within the loner lands, and only seeking to use the other for his own personal gain. However, before Michael could truly process what had happened, he had grown... attached. The two had become partners in crime, and Trevor had become his affectionately nicknamed muscle, despite the fact that really, Trevor was only the muscle because he was the larger of the two, not because he was really that muscular. Michael had ended up needing the other on more than just one level. He needed Trevor on a basic level because the other provided him with the strength and just the right level of craziness that he needed to pull off all 9f the heists he could come up with. Deeper down than that, however, Michael needed Trevor because he cared about him. He cared deeply for the damned, manic canine, and he knew that Trevor cared about him as well, if only because of the way that the other constantly reminded him of it, with gentle touches and secret grins. The thought of losing Trevor, just as Blits had thought he had lost his love... it would've sent Michael into angry hysterics, denying everything and stubbornly insisting that the world couldn't take the other criminal away from him. It couldn't. That had been the whole reason that Michael had ended up here, in the Typhoon. He hadn't been willing to let anyone get their damned dirty paws on the man that he needed, so he had given himself up, having no idea of where he would end up or how things would go from there. He was lucky he had ended up in the Typhoon, rather than dead in a ditch somewhere.
Now, here in the Typhoon, Michael still felt that same need for Trevor as before. The canine had returned to him, however, as the coyote somehow always did, which meant that Michael's smaller, more base needs were now coming to the forefront again. Such as the need for things. The bobcat had really thought that stealing from Blits would be a piece of cake, because – regardless of how the brightly colored male had ended up like it – Blits wasn't exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer. Unfortunately for the fugitive, luck was not on his side, and he found his claws scrabbling uselessly at the sand as he attempted to get the first of the bands off. All he really succeeded at doing was wrenching the metal against sensitive skin, sputtering and narrowing his gaze angrily as Blits's tail twitched and fumbled, slapping at his face with some of the movements. Somewhere deep down, Michael knew he should've been being more careful as not to wake Blits up, but it had also sort of become a matter of pride at this point. He found himself furious that he couldn't do something as simple as snatching the bands off of the creature's tail – even if many factors beyond his control were currently working against him. It was really a miracle that Blits hadn't already woken up at the first of the firm tugs on his jewelry, and Michael found himself thinking the same as he gave one last sharp tug at the band, his head falling backwards with the force of it. It didn't achieve anything. Well, it had achieved something, but that something was a far cry from what Michael had been hoping for. Blits was awake.
Had this been any other situation, Michael probably would've taken advantage of Blits's temporarily grogginess. It would've been a shitty move, but it also would've been so easy to just launch himself forward and tear at Blits's face and chest, ravaging anything and everything he could reach before he bolted. Unlike most encounters where he was caught, however, there was no gleam of rage or betrayal in Blits's eyes. Rather, there was just faint confusion, as well as a certain obliviousness that Michael was fairly sure no one else in the world besides Blits could hope to pull off. The thief found himself just staring, wide eyed, directly back at Blits's gaze, his mind seemingly struggling to catch up with the situation at hand. When several seconds went by without him being screamed at or attacked, the bobcat felt a soft relieved breath leave him, thanking any god that was listening for how stupid Blits was. The mispronunciation of his name annoyed Michael slightly, but it was hardly enough to stop him from hastily coming up with an excuse, "Ah, Blits! I... I wasn't sure if you were alright, since you were kinda just sleepin' out in the open. I came lookin' for you in order to see if you had found who you were looking for..." He averted his gaze a little to glance over Blits's shoulder, the gears in his head turning slowly as he continued, "Plus I wanted t'see if you had figured out the territory just yet. I know it can be a bit confusin' for newbies..." It was all horrendous bullshit, of course, but Michael desperately hoped that Blits wouldn't be able to see that.
When Michael had first met Trevor, he had thought very little of the other, considering him to just be another thug in the sea of them that resided within the loner lands, and only seeking to use the other for his own personal gain. However, before Michael could truly process what had happened, he had grown... attached. The two had become partners in crime, and Trevor had become his affectionately nicknamed muscle, despite the fact that really, Trevor was only the muscle because he was the larger of the two, not because he was really that muscular. Michael had ended up needing the other on more than just one level. He needed Trevor on a basic level because the other provided him with the strength and just the right level of craziness that he needed to pull off all 9f the heists he could come up with. Deeper down than that, however, Michael needed Trevor because he cared about him. He cared deeply for the damned, manic canine, and he knew that Trevor cared about him as well, if only because of the way that the other constantly reminded him of it, with gentle touches and secret grins. The thought of losing Trevor, just as Blits had thought he had lost his love... it would've sent Michael into angry hysterics, denying everything and stubbornly insisting that the world couldn't take the other criminal away from him. It couldn't. That had been the whole reason that Michael had ended up here, in the Typhoon. He hadn't been willing to let anyone get their damned dirty paws on the man that he needed, so he had given himself up, having no idea of where he would end up or how things would go from there. He was lucky he had ended up in the Typhoon, rather than dead in a ditch somewhere.
Now, here in the Typhoon, Michael still felt that same need for Trevor as before. The canine had returned to him, however, as the coyote somehow always did, which meant that Michael's smaller, more base needs were now coming to the forefront again. Such as the need for things. The bobcat had really thought that stealing from Blits would be a piece of cake, because – regardless of how the brightly colored male had ended up like it – Blits wasn't exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer. Unfortunately for the fugitive, luck was not on his side, and he found his claws scrabbling uselessly at the sand as he attempted to get the first of the bands off. All he really succeeded at doing was wrenching the metal against sensitive skin, sputtering and narrowing his gaze angrily as Blits's tail twitched and fumbled, slapping at his face with some of the movements. Somewhere deep down, Michael knew he should've been being more careful as not to wake Blits up, but it had also sort of become a matter of pride at this point. He found himself furious that he couldn't do something as simple as snatching the bands off of the creature's tail – even if many factors beyond his control were currently working against him. It was really a miracle that Blits hadn't already woken up at the first of the firm tugs on his jewelry, and Michael found himself thinking the same as he gave one last sharp tug at the band, his head falling backwards with the force of it. It didn't achieve anything. Well, it had achieved something, but that something was a far cry from what Michael had been hoping for. Blits was awake.
Had this been any other situation, Michael probably would've taken advantage of Blits's temporarily grogginess. It would've been a shitty move, but it also would've been so easy to just launch himself forward and tear at Blits's face and chest, ravaging anything and everything he could reach before he bolted. Unlike most encounters where he was caught, however, there was no gleam of rage or betrayal in Blits's eyes. Rather, there was just faint confusion, as well as a certain obliviousness that Michael was fairly sure no one else in the world besides Blits could hope to pull off. The thief found himself just staring, wide eyed, directly back at Blits's gaze, his mind seemingly struggling to catch up with the situation at hand. When several seconds went by without him being screamed at or attacked, the bobcat felt a soft relieved breath leave him, thanking any god that was listening for how stupid Blits was. The mispronunciation of his name annoyed Michael slightly, but it was hardly enough to stop him from hastily coming up with an excuse, "Ah, Blits! I... I wasn't sure if you were alright, since you were kinda just sleepin' out in the open. I came lookin' for you in order to see if you had found who you were looking for..." He averted his gaze a little to glance over Blits's shoulder, the gears in his head turning slowly as he continued, "Plus I wanted t'see if you had figured out the territory just yet. I know it can be a bit confusin' for newbies..." It was all horrendous bullshit, of course, but Michael desperately hoped that Blits wouldn't be able to see that.
[glow=#75603C,1,000]" oh, it's a setup, no, no, we won't fall. "[/glow]
Re: edges of mirror basks in gold - p, michael - fulzanin - 03-07-2020
When it came down to needs, Blits had several different ways of going about it. In his youth he'd laid down and taken whatever abuse his fellow guards would throw his way, for being discovered as a hybrid or stepping out of line would have warranted a sword's swing directed at his throat. He had feigned stupidity long before it had become his defining attribute. It was with hope of being allowed food, rest, and a place to stay. The last term was easily distributed. The former two, less so. When he had a boyfriend to protect following instances of kidnapping, Blits had felt as if his means had been justified. He had used his magic to protect the human, but it sadly was not something that lasted. Apparently concussing people for looking at the one you were married to was not viable. He'd been told off, and eventually those actions had dwindled. They still tugged at him now and again, but it was hard for those feelings to exist when he was apart from the one he loved.
It was certainly hard for him. Blits had little knowledge and his brain was fried and jumped around more than a bird attempting a game of jump rope. He couldn't think logically. His boyfriend did that for him. He was smart and very, very pretty. Smart enough to compensate for all of Blits' mental shortcomings. They did need each other. Blits with his magic and his ignorance allowing for him to coax away someone who thought there was nothing to live for, and his boyfriend with his smarts and his ability to always provide some form of comfort no matter how small or unintentional it was.They were a set. They were not to be separated, and yet here Blits was; him left to his own devices. He needed the other for the comfort, he desperately required such a thing. He needed to be there to take the weight that his beloved could not carry himself. Other needs had paled in comparison. Such was why he had put himself into a heavy state of exhaustion and had wound up practically collapsing where he currently laid. Food was not important, nor was sleep when it came to finding the ultimatum of his needs. He'd exhausted himself thoroughly.
The Sinornithosaurus carefully rubbed his lidded eyes with a fluffy wing. His mind noted that he'd have to preen them soon to keep their fluffy and clean state, but it was shoved aside as quickly as the random thought arrived. It was not important. There were things far more important at hand. Besides, usually his boyfriend did that. He didn't want to do that now, because it was an activity that could be saved for when he finally found Scot. Blits yawned, giving his head a slight shake. He still felt exhausted. How long had he been asleep for? It couldn't have been more than a few hours, he thinks while he sits more upright. His body still aches and pleas for more sleep, and swiftly those demands are nullified. He mistakes haste in Michael's words for concern, a feat that truly only Blits, perhaps not even in a groggy state, could pull off. Concerned about him? That was... definitely something nice. "I kinda figured that since nobody else was laying here, I could lay here," he mumbles. He again shakes his head, trying to force the movement to aid the process of rising from an exhausted slumber.
The aversion of gaze was not lost to Blits. The only fault was that, despite noticing it, he didn't know what it meant. It was swept under the rug, and he raised a wing to gently scratch at his crooked left horn. "No, I haven't found him yet," Blits answers. Slowly he shuffles his feet into a more comfortable sitting position. His hopes were that if he sat more upright, he'd be less likely to fall asleep during the conversation. "I couldn't even find the chicken that I briefly spoke to, either." Disappointment flickers in his tone briefly. His words stop, fried mind briefly failing to operate with exhaustion overloading him. He gives his horn a slight tug, the pain quickly bringing him back to his senses. "Haven't figured it out yet, no," he answers. Blits' eyes flicker a little, him shifting from where he remained seated. "Oh! Are you gonna help me look? Four eyes are way better than two. Not as good as three, but it works!"
His head tips in an expectant manner, exhausted eyes now glinting with a refueled determination. His body demands he lay back down, but his body is fried and is easily overturned by an equally as fried mindset. Surely he was offering aid! Blits couldn't see any other meaning behind the other's words. Besides, he'd been concerned for his well being! That was certainly pleasantries at its finest. "The land is super confusing. All the trees look the exact same. Very frustrating." With that, the vibrant creature begins trying to stand upright. Finally his tail moves again, taking the gold and silver bands with it. The limb curls, jagged and spiked end scraping at the ground as Blits hoists himself upright. He stumbles as his legs briefly refuse to obey unconscious instructions, but he rises up nonetheless. Another yawn, equally as ignored. Blits knew he likely wouldn't be able to stay awake for long, but any progress was good progress. "Where should we go first?"
It was certainly hard for him. Blits had little knowledge and his brain was fried and jumped around more than a bird attempting a game of jump rope. He couldn't think logically. His boyfriend did that for him. He was smart and very, very pretty. Smart enough to compensate for all of Blits' mental shortcomings. They did need each other. Blits with his magic and his ignorance allowing for him to coax away someone who thought there was nothing to live for, and his boyfriend with his smarts and his ability to always provide some form of comfort no matter how small or unintentional it was.They were a set. They were not to be separated, and yet here Blits was; him left to his own devices. He needed the other for the comfort, he desperately required such a thing. He needed to be there to take the weight that his beloved could not carry himself. Other needs had paled in comparison. Such was why he had put himself into a heavy state of exhaustion and had wound up practically collapsing where he currently laid. Food was not important, nor was sleep when it came to finding the ultimatum of his needs. He'd exhausted himself thoroughly.
The Sinornithosaurus carefully rubbed his lidded eyes with a fluffy wing. His mind noted that he'd have to preen them soon to keep their fluffy and clean state, but it was shoved aside as quickly as the random thought arrived. It was not important. There were things far more important at hand. Besides, usually his boyfriend did that. He didn't want to do that now, because it was an activity that could be saved for when he finally found Scot. Blits yawned, giving his head a slight shake. He still felt exhausted. How long had he been asleep for? It couldn't have been more than a few hours, he thinks while he sits more upright. His body still aches and pleas for more sleep, and swiftly those demands are nullified. He mistakes haste in Michael's words for concern, a feat that truly only Blits, perhaps not even in a groggy state, could pull off. Concerned about him? That was... definitely something nice. "I kinda figured that since nobody else was laying here, I could lay here," he mumbles. He again shakes his head, trying to force the movement to aid the process of rising from an exhausted slumber.
The aversion of gaze was not lost to Blits. The only fault was that, despite noticing it, he didn't know what it meant. It was swept under the rug, and he raised a wing to gently scratch at his crooked left horn. "No, I haven't found him yet," Blits answers. Slowly he shuffles his feet into a more comfortable sitting position. His hopes were that if he sat more upright, he'd be less likely to fall asleep during the conversation. "I couldn't even find the chicken that I briefly spoke to, either." Disappointment flickers in his tone briefly. His words stop, fried mind briefly failing to operate with exhaustion overloading him. He gives his horn a slight tug, the pain quickly bringing him back to his senses. "Haven't figured it out yet, no," he answers. Blits' eyes flicker a little, him shifting from where he remained seated. "Oh! Are you gonna help me look? Four eyes are way better than two. Not as good as three, but it works!"
His head tips in an expectant manner, exhausted eyes now glinting with a refueled determination. His body demands he lay back down, but his body is fried and is easily overturned by an equally as fried mindset. Surely he was offering aid! Blits couldn't see any other meaning behind the other's words. Besides, he'd been concerned for his well being! That was certainly pleasantries at its finest. "The land is super confusing. All the trees look the exact same. Very frustrating." With that, the vibrant creature begins trying to stand upright. Finally his tail moves again, taking the gold and silver bands with it. The limb curls, jagged and spiked end scraping at the ground as Blits hoists himself upright. He stumbles as his legs briefly refuse to obey unconscious instructions, but he rises up nonetheless. Another yawn, equally as ignored. Blits knew he likely wouldn't be able to stay awake for long, but any progress was good progress. "Where should we go first?"
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