Within one breath and the next, the figure of argus' form could be seen exiting the ruins of an underbrush from the island. Large wisps of brown, molted red and black painted along her legs- wings hinged along her back to hide the scars that scored along her back. Argus looked down at the small whelp along the shoreline. the emotion flickering there incomprehensible. She felt a stirring of her own voice respond in kind to the question- "[glow=grey,2,300]you are at the border of the condemned, youngling.[/glow]"

Argus' voice was a low rumble of a growl: a savage thing bred from disuse and hoarse with the sense of screaming. Serrated maw opening without the flash of fangs under a plow-white mask: there was a cock to her head- but her words befell no question: yet "[glow=grey,2,300]What is it you seek?[/glow]"

Argus had asked the question a countless times; each one with a different answer- or the same if you thought to look closely. everyone wanted something, there was always something to be found lacking, and argus was benevolent enough to aid some, help. it was rare she would find the patience in recent times: the world had been cruel to her- it was not hard to see that, but her voice held no open hostility, on a neutrality as she weighed the scales of the stranger.

but the presence of blood, the scent and the appearance of bandages covering the small fragile stranger at the border. There was a narrow to her eye, under her mask a crease of convulsion that twitched and scaled maw. "[glow=grey,2,300] you're injured: would you allow me to help you?[/glow]"

Argus had a history of healing, in the sparse time between wars: she picked up herbs and had tucked her claws away: fangs only used in the façade of a smile along her maws (small, fragile thing: a smile is). Even then there was a never ending bloodstain along her paws, bloodshed was inevitable. injury was always a certainty- as was death: just for a moment: she refused the inevitable, and healed instead of hurt. It was a glorious time- as backward as the thinking were for her.

There were those that ignored her soothing; ones who wished for the scars of battle to linger on them: Argus saw arrogance in the creature before her, but after a moment of silent consideration she relinquished. It was not her story to judge, and she were not the proper guru to force the other to stand still and listen to reason: just a wonderer for the moment: a wonderer like he.

"[glow=grey,2,300] be grateful you washed on our borders then,[/glow]" Argus rumbled, Tales of Goldie's wrath wasn't unknown. one of the Pitt leader's fell quiet gruesomely, and Argus had half a mind to return just to sooth the desert's lands back into fruition but--- alas: it was not her journey either: that relied on her daughter's shoulders now.

"[glow=grey,2,300] beyond this island is uncharted, and endless sea.[/glow]" Argus finished her warning, her sporadically furred tail swatting behind her as the behemoth moved to a more comfortable position. Wings extending towards the ground as the  joints held her frame still. front claws digging into the sand while her left paw moved outwards, open. The gestured wasn't... was an instinct lied in her from. An open invitation.

"[glow=grey,2,300]if you are looking for a home; look no further. Our borders our open, we are small but close knit.[/glow]" Argus welcomed them: and here she would pause, extending a clawed hand towards the stranger, in silent ascendance: she could probably lift him with a single hand and carry him further in, if he needed it.

"[glow=grey,2,300]My name is Argus Mortemm, a wonderer of the coalition of the condemned. what shall I call you? [/glow]" how shall we welcome you? the question was an undercurrent, silent thing but the meaning was still there: in her open body language. red eyes looked on towards the small wounded warrior but a pup, already so wounded, her thoughts were tumultuous, a silent anger and the cause of his injury. He was one of her own now- as every member of the condemned: hers to protect, to give, nurture, care for.

ah, it was there: that budding hope of naivete or self-preservation. the only thing that kept argus' patience- sanity. Where there was one who turned there back: there was always another who opened the door to possibility. He reciprocated her open palm: clawed hand curling around him before she would begin her trail back inland, closer to the clan's grounds (with him in her grasp, to not jostle his sores any more, if he allowed it) : where a guru could berate them both for the youngest's injuries. The scent of salt came under her mask and flooded her senses: she winched, a slight shudder of her form as scales reflexively tensed. salt in wounds was nasty: it made an injury burn all the sweeter.

It was a common (favored) tactic: before.

his voice stumbled along his own name: And ten eyes blinked, slow in tandem with one another. "[glow=grey,2,300]a name is a name, Ezrakel.[/glow]" Argus'  voice held no such tenderness, just a solemn void where she refused to show such flickering embers of rage: someone close to him then. a hint to his injury, or a mental one: both would need treating. Scars left to fester often did rot.

"[glow=grey,2,300]it is common practice, to change your name if you wish it.[/glow]" Argus hummed the idea: a hiss of a suggestion on her tongue. She refused the compelling idea to actually force her way into his mind, pluck at the injury and bury it deep, but only slightly. such cravings for violence- to an ally was not becoming. Such violence was hard for argues to move away from: once taught- never forgotten.

"[glow=grey,2,300]I have changed mine thrice, since I've lived within these clans.[/glow]" Argus hummed, the slight admittance was an open door, another suggestion to carry on- elaborate his own name, or his own history if he felt brave enough to do so.

it was a give, a small one but a bow all the same. Argus hummed out, taking in the other's words as one of consideration, and didn't push the issue any further. Instead she began the short walk closer inland, towards the guru no doubt- only to spot the other on the approach, stopping just short of it- damn.

What may have seemed like a stutter in movement as Andru made his appearance known, the grin under her mask was less sheepish and more of pride. She held no reservations in staking her claim on people, and from ezrakel's response, he had either little idea of it or little care too. It only made the situation better in her eyes- and she tilted her mask to show that grin. Jagged teeth unsettling under the smooth pallor of her mask. black gums under the yellow teeth and white scales.

"[glow=grey,2,300]good to see you, Andru[/glow]" Argus knew the other as a child to Stryker, a distant way in that Argus hadn't really made much note. she hadn't attempted to make much of an appearance in her first month the the coalition. She knew she was a hard figure to miss, but it made her curious of what he thought of her rather silent nature.

It was with a serenity of a mother- well practiced and well used, she lowered Ezrakel. Opening her claws to allow the other to stumble out, if nothing else she could poke towards the ruins of the guru den, while showing the newcomer that what remains of the camp. Unless someone beat her to showing the other.