⬻ M A R R ⤖

That which does not kill you has learned to fear your name

The meteor had brought down many things from the heavens above, fire and flame, fury and destruction - and it had brought down more than just itself with it. Trailing the burning might of the meteor strike was a smaller blaze, burning red, that fell, controlled, to the same destination below.

Weeks later in the aftermath, a tall white shape emerged from among the mountain pass, white on black and trailing red in its wake like the comet tails that trailed the falling sky above where the stranger had first landed.

Heavy tread and a rumbling breathing accompanied the stranger as he seemed to move at slow and steady purpose, never faltering, never tiring and always dead ahead - this stranger with scattered scars and half his Snow White form appearing to have been dipped in ink and blood.

A ghastly sight of half a face torn asunder, grim death grinning on the wolf’s maw.

Fitting, for what they’d called him.

Marr’s red eyes stayed trained ahead, where he knew civilisation - of some sort - awaited him, it would be a far cry from home, but stranded as he was, this was perhaps the best chance for a safe harbour and a place to stop, to rest.

But he could walk on for forever if he must, such was life, brutal, unforgiving and something you had to carve your home out of lest it carve it out of you.

The ‘wolf’ snorted, the red trailing tails behind him twitching at his thoughts.

As he came to what was clearly some form of borderline, he stopped and stood, statuesque in the cool mountain winds, unbothered and unhurried as he waited for someone to approach.

⬻ M A R R ⤖

That which does not kill you has learned to fear your name

The colour red has ever been a companion in his life. Red are his teeth, his claws, his eyes, Red are his tails and the blood and the lightning he sparks,

Red is his aura, his hidden wings, the blood pulled from his wounds and the scars inflicted by the divine.

He does not hate it, it’s a simple fact of life - almost a comfort really, in that one constant that doesn’t change.

Red is friend, enemy, pain and comfort - red is life.

Red eyes flick towards the one who approaches, the scarred wolf-like creature inclining his head to the other - their appearance is not so strange to him, he who has seen sights of strange wonder and horrifying shapes.

"Marr" is the rumbling bass voice that answers the Elysite, a tongue briefly licking cold dry lips before he’d spoken, having not spoken to anyone in so long since the fall and the journey here - his tails briefly twitch behind him, the only giveaway of some bare unease.

"I come to seek a home here, if allowed" it’s said almost haltingly, like the white beast isn’t quite so sure he’d stay - but knows he must, stranded as he is - nowhere will be home to him but Sanctum these days, but sanctum is not here and thus he must make do.

Marr is nothing if not adaptable after all - the scars he has attest to that.

⬻ M A R R ⤖

That which does not kill you has learned to fear your name

True enough, Marr was not one would call ‘pretty’ at a glance, too many scars and too intimidating an appearance but then, anyone with infernian blood whether pure or halfbreed like himself tended towards the ‘scary looking’ side, it simply was how it was.

Marr was the name he had given himself after all, it had felt fitting - and still was in many ways, but it was him.

He had a name, not a number.

Ears flickered and his attention turned to the second to approach and something of a small smile of gratitude appeared at the corners of his mouth - difficult given half of it was torn up - though the second question made him raise a brow and he huffed a short chuckle quietly before gesturing broadly at himself with one clawed forepaw "old scars, nothing much you can do for them - but thank you" an incline of his head toward the far smaller Rin, well aware his scars no doubt looked far more severe and currently open with their fresher flesh colour but they were indeed old, no doubt they looked painful to the small feline, if his face was anything to go by

But it was considerate of her to offer - it wasn’t everyday he got such easy acceptance or even offers of help that weren’t from those like him.

He’d forgotten that outside everything he’d known, there were other places with mortals of a different disposition towards he and his.

It was...refreshing if disorientating,

Not to mention, so far all he’d seen, everyone was far smaller than he was used to but Marr simply shrugged that off, most mortal races tended towards being shorter than them, it was the usual.

But continuing "I can make it there fine miss Rin, though I would not mind a guide" these weren’t his lands - though now they were if he was to haunt here for awhile, but the territory was unfamiliar to him, a point he’d have to rectify soon enough.

⬻ M A R R ⤖

That which does not kill you has learned to fear your name

[ooc: this is all IC opinions, Marr has a...ton of baggage when it comes to godly/angels etc]

The aura that follows the next one sets his teeth on edge though he doesn’t show it, if only because so many that flaunted such an aura so obviously had only ever used it as a pretty lie to hide the ugliness beneath - a lovely mask to disguise the crack of whips and biting chains they’d then wrap around the fools taht got too close.

Marr pushes it away - this is a strange land, he can’t judge that here but he can’t help but think of those he gave his loyalty to willingly - those that had such auras but chose to hide it, embarrassed or guilty for seeming to try and push it on others, but that same heavyness yet in no way pretty would one say - he can’t help but compare and find this one grating against his senses - too bright, too pretty and too much like the false skins.

But he’s long grown used to hiding his thoughts from appearing on his face when he has to even if it grates so he inclines his head - a strange name this one has, but they are polite, so Marr will return it in kind, until he has reason not to anyway, even he needs a place for rest

”Marr” is all he says but he grunts in agreement to the offer for guidance, it will at least get him a better read on the territory and these people - and their unfamiliar familiar strangers.

Of course though, his red gaze catches on the last and suddenly it’s a fight not to react as he would if he were home or out in the fields hunting for caravans to free.

An angel

His scars feel like burning,

The only outward sign is the slight stiffening of his form and the twitch of tails behind him, ready for anything - fight or flight, but Marr clearly by looks alone is far more the former - still the inner turmoil is wrestled down and shoved in a box

He can’t flip out here after all and it wouldn’t do to let the secondary form out now, he can’t play all his cards so freely - though the pandaemonium in his blood writhes and shift under his flesh.

He shifts on his feet,

Think of Argentum, remember, not all false skinned, remember

Wrestles it down, swallows the spite and bile and the urge to spit and rage,

It’s a monumental effort for all that only moments pass but the giant manages a gruff nod to...Aurum and a rumbled ”I’ve lived in worse” to the comment on the cold,

He has had to live from one extreme to another after all, he’s well versed in surviving the odds.