Here he was again. Another year passed by, another year spent away from the people he'd lost. Another year of living and grieving. Weren't birthdays supposed to be some kind of celebration Some kind of event to enjoy? The morning had found him waking up alone in his home again, the whispers of ghosts in his ears, ghostly feelings accompanying him all morning. He'd gone about making himself a fresh hot cup of tea and had taken it outside of his house, to the planter pots he owned with plants beginning to grow in them. Watching over his seedlings, the gray tom had sat in relative silence before the sun had come up, the chill in the air making his breath mist around his face and steam rise from his mug of tea. Eyes half-closed as the sun began to climb the sky, it's rays slowly illuminating drifts of fog and moisture rolling through Tanglewood's village, his only working eye spotting the shapes of ghosts among the rays of sunshine. His breath barely stirred the air around him, watching with a removed sadness to him as the ghosts went about their business, their hazy forms and shapes moving about slowly, unaware of the tears that had built in his eye. He didn't need to look to know who sat beside him, who played at the bottom of the steps to his house. He'd known them well in life, those he had called family, the partner he'd loved and the children he had raised until they were taken from him by life. He could feel the ghostly press of fur and hear the faint whispers of laughter, his head bowed as he fought between reality and his memories, the two meshing all too well. He dared not open his eyes because he knew if he saw them again, he would be destroyed.

Inhaling now as bird song reached his ears, the feelings drifting away as the sun bore through the mist and fog, warming his fur slowly. He didn't know how long he sat there, reminiscing years past, birthdays past. Lifting his head now, knowing that the ghosts wouldn't be close enough to touch him and taking some solace in that. Gazing out over the sleepy village he curled his tail and got to his paws, stretching his back upwards with a soft groan. Drinking the last of his tea, he turned to head inside his home, mug in mouth. Pushing the door open, he drifted indoors and breathed out, letting the door remain open for some air circulation. Walking over to the wall, he set the mug down by his other few dishes of assortment to be washed at a later time, turning to the chest he owned. Brushing dust from the top with a paw, he opened it with a bit of a labored push of paws, listening to the creak of it's old hinges. Peering inside, his heart beginning to beat in his throat. Corrupttimelines ... where are you now? Where have you gone?, he found himself asking into the silence, his throat unable to form the words he wanted to say. Where had the other gone, so soon after returning?

Taking out a carefully wrapped package in beeswax covered fabric, he would set it down on one of the pillows he slept with. Paws carefully unwrapped the protective covering, his ears drooping with his whiskers as he trembled with tension. Taking a breath, he finished unwrapping a beautiful necklace, it's silver face catching sunlight spilling in from the door. He'd received this last year, from the one that he wondered about. The one who had managed to convince him without a single word that his broken heart could heal and feel once again. The one who had left him and everyone else behind. The one who was missing, the one who he feared would never return again. Had he been too cold in his pain when he'd returned? He had not remembered the other, too destroyed by the confusion wrought of fighting for his soul. For his life. Breath shuddering in his lungs, he would pick up the necklace that held the emblem of the world tree and slip it over his head, shocked by the chill of the metal against the scar tissue on his throat.

Pressing a paw to the metal with a quiet breath, ears flattening as he heard a voice, "Corrupttimelines left you, Aesior. Why do you hold onto this belonging? You've been left behind once again, there's no need to continue on like this. You can let it go. Let them all go."
No. I can't do that. I'd never be able to forgive myself if I did that. I can't let them go, any of them. They're all alive and precious in their own way. He can leave me as much as he wants, I will always wait for him. For all of them. he thought in answer to the voice only he could hear. Shaking his head, he got to his paws again and looked back out his front door. Closing his eyes to half lid and holding the necklace in his paw close to his chest he walked towards the open door. Stepping outside, the peace that more or less surrounded the sleepy village was shattered by the hair raising sound of a war cry, the tom's fur standing on end in surprise and apprehension as he saw bodies begin to flood into the camp of Tanglewood. His paws brought him flying out the door, tail raised high over his back and bushed out, jaws spread to warn his people, a broken throat unable to speak keeping him from it. The sound of a snarl and the creak of wooden boards took his attention as motion blurred at the side of his vision, an assailant on his porch. Turning to face his attacker with a silent snarl the scarred male felt his claws sink into wood as he attempted to throw himself towards his assailant, gray eye glowing a violent bright blue.

please wait for [member=16992]SHERBET[/member] to post! //
and we're gonna pretend i posted this yesterday aa ///

FEEL THE THUNDER START TO CALL
[ speech ] | [ american lion ] | [ appearance ]

[div style="margin-bottom: 4px; height: auto; font-family: baskerville; font-size: 26px; letter-spacing: 3px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; color: black;"]OH LORD, DON'T LET ME
BE MISUNDERSTOOD

ACTIONS | "SPEAKING" | THINKING | TELEPATHY

This wasn't the welcome party he was expecting.

He hadn't been up to date on the mainland's affairs in what felt like ages. Months ago, Zjarr was sent off by Aesior along with a handful of other Tanglers to scout out their island addition to their territory and work the lands. It was a curious task to assign to someone who was by no means a farmer — he was a hunter, a warrior, and a blacksmith, but never a farmer. He wouldn't dispute the assignment, though. He had joined Tanglewood with the terms of being open to virtually any work the clan threw at him so long as they gave him and his adoptive children food and shelter. Their end of the deal was held up, and it was his turn to do the same.

My kids. The demon hadn't seen Christian, Lanyu, or Randall in so long. He refused to let them come with him to the island, believing that it would be a perilous decision for the young shepherds. They were well-protected in the main Tanglewood camp, surrounded by people who could feed them, defend them, and prepare them for their futures. Zjarr had sworn not to grow attached to the children. Even now, he blamed whatever attachment he had to the pups on Flamey's encouragement. After all, it was that godforsaken ghost that convinced him to keep them in the Forge and practically raise them as his own. They're Ignibuses too.

As the husky led the boat back to the mainland, the desire to see their faces once more flooded his mind. He pushed the thoughts away. They will be fine.

He tossed his head over his shoulder and cast a glance at the other Tanglers on the boat that granted them passage between the mainland and the island. Only a few of the band of settlers had come back with him, just enough to carry the resources he was intending to present to Aesior and the rest of the group. Zjarr hoped to be the bearer of good news. The island's soil was fertile, and the farming settlement's bounty over the past several months was quite fruitful. It wasn't just crops that the farmers had raised — they domesticated some of the local fauna, too, which meant that meat would be on the menu for the Tanglers as well. Each item was carefully bounded and secured for easy transport.

Unfortunately for them, getting their haul back to the town would be anything but. As the demon navigated through the swamp, his food-toting Tanglers in tow, the reek of spilled blood and the angry snarls of battle stopped him in his tracks. He made out a screamed name amid the chaos. Captain Sherbet. His lips drew back into a growl, his chest growing hot. "Fuckin' pirates!" he snapped. What the hell happened while he was running the island? He was going to have a long talk with Aesior after this; that was for damn sure.

Zjarr turned back to the settlers, who eyed him curiously as though awaiting orders. Then again, listening to Zjarr's instructions was all they had been doing for a while now. He made the decision not to have them take up arms for now. They had a mission, and they were going to complete it with or without him. "Find a way 'round all this. Get this shit back to the town. Don't get caught, don't be an idiot, don't be a hero. Now, go! Move!" He waved a dismissing paw at his entourage, who dispersed as soon as the words left his mouth. He spared no time diving into the action now, dirtied paws leading him closer to the battle.

The demon hadn't seen combat in a long time. Aside from a few scuffles with some vicious wildlife, the island settlement saw little trouble in terms of pesky neighbors or dangerous natives. He hadn't the time to brush up on his martial arts, though he did use plenty of his magical abilities to aid the creation of the settlement itself. The Tangler stopped for a moment, scanning his surroundings for a proper entrance. Of the enemies on the battlefield, one actor was of particular interest to him — a phoenix that flew low, perhaps to pick out a smaller opponent to take to the skies. There ya are. Ready to play?

Locking onto the Typhooner and watching them swoop down, Zjarr tapped into his internal reservoir of heat. If he timed this right, he could possibly disable the phoenix by taking out a wing; at the very least, he would attempt to distract them from any smaller, more vulnerable allies by putting the focus on himself. Pulling from his heat, he extended a paw and began to channel the energy into a fireball that danced in his grasp, eager to taste flesh.

Let's fuckin' play. When the winged beast swooped down to a low enough point, Zjarr hurled the fireball towards the phoenix in an attempt to get a hit in on its wing. Worst case, he would attract the creature's attention and take it from there.

In preparation for the Typhooner's potential response, Zjarr's eyelids clamped shut. He searched for his blade that was a bit too far away for comfort. He pulled at the feeling of the blade, conjuring it to his current location. It arrived, sitting before him as requested, but teleporting it from such a distance took a bit of his energy. The husky spared no time picking up the blade, wielding it tightly in his jaws as he locked onto the phoenix again. For now, he was going to observe his opponent and be on the defense.

[member=23781]cyprian[/member]