Beasts of Beyond
what pride had wrought | open, intro - Printable Version

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what pride had wrought | open, intro - darci - 06-14-2018

Nosferatu could be found leaned up against a pole at the docks, watching the waves rise and give way. He did not know anybody here, thus he was alone. Despite that, Nos was rather outgoing and very rarely shy, so making friends was not an issue for him. The man was in his early twenties, twenty-four years, to be exact. His hair was as black as tar, cleanly cut into a typical short hairstyle. Nosferatu was always on top of changing outfits, but in a world such as this, it was a luxury to have another outfit, not to mention clean cloths. Despite that, he always possessed the scent of fresh-cut oak. His green eyes drew away from the water to the wooden dock. It was quite, almost too quite for him. Humming, he began to think of something to stir up a bit of fun.

The demon had a rather lithe build. He was not tall and muscular, rather he was short, but he was filled out rather nicely. Nos had a body for speed and endurance rather than full on tackling someone like it was your last high school football game. He wore a pair of dark jeans and an unbuttoned plaid shirt made of the colors green, white, and black. Under the unbuttoned shirt he wore a white t-shirt. Occasionally he just wore the plaid shirt (unbutton, of course) and just bare-chested it. He had no shame. Around his neck was his crown jewel and his trademark: A silver cross necklace. It was ironic, really - A demon who wore a cross necklace. It had a story behind it, but that was for another time.
  He moved over to the edge of the dock and peered over, getting lost in his own little world until - Crack! There went the rotten board he stood upon. Down into the water he went. It was a good thing he knew how to swim. Nosferatu coughed and flailed, shocked by the water as he struggled to find the wooden platform of the dock. The demon finally heaved himself back onto the tattered dock, coughing up what little water he ingested. Rolling onto his back, he let out an obnoxious sign. "Well, these goes that."
 

Re: what pride had wrought | open, intro - CAIN - 06-15-2018

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What a dark blot of an aura on that one. Cain was typically rather quick to respond to unfamiliar flickers of auras on the docks, if only because he had everyone's so well memorized that he could detect a stranger fairly easily, even in a crowd. This one was... intriguing. Dark. Shadowed. The potential for something chaotic was there, and he was drawn to it readily enough, prowling across the market with intention as he tracked that darkness with ease. His sharp, analytic stare brushed over others, registering their presence, before he finally found the source of his curiosity and came to a stop a pace away, taking in this water-logged stranger slowly, intently, though the flicker of curiosity was also apparent.

"What brings you to the Market?" he drawled, voice smooth and even, as he regarded the boy. Something in him itched to poke and prod, dredge up all of that darkness and twist it into something wild and chaotic, but he tempered the roaring of his instincts and instead held still. A coiled spring, but coiled all the same.
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© MADI


Re: what pride had wrought | open, intro - Amren - 06-15-2018

[color=#414a4c]✴ ✴ ✴
It was no surprise that Amren appeared shortly after Cain, hardly casting her own shadow as she stood within his. Tanned arms would cross over her chest as she studied the wet Nosferatu, something mischievous gleaming within those pale-silver eyes of hers. It was no secret that the tiny woman gained immense joy from witnessing the misfortune of others. Tragedy that befell strangers, especially, delighted her to unspeakable extents, aligning almost perfectly with her wicked nature. [b][color=#414a4c]"Oh my, you look a bit wet, boy," She cooed, her voice as sickly sweet as usual. A grin crossed her features as she took a step forward, flames igniting within the palms of her hands. [color=#414a4c]"Want to dry off?"

She was, of course, kidding. As chaotic and terrible and ancient as Amren was, she'd never actually hurt another Blackfallen unless they gave her a substantially good reason to (for example: anyone who even dare lay a hand on Cain or Thomas or Leopold or Rainier or Iona or... well, any of her faux family would find themselves becoming very well acquainted with her unbridled wrath). This unnamed stranger was merely victim to her typical behavior, a cackle suddenly falling from crimson-painted lips as she both realized and embraced that little fact. [color=#414a4c]"Amren Archeron," She greeted next, closing her hands to extinguish the fire that had once crackled so gracefully within them, [color=#414a4c]"Are you going to stand up and greet us or are you too waterlogged?"