He’s been hungry all day — starving, in fact, though part of him thinks that maybe he’s mistaken the feeling for another.  He can feel this rumbling sensation deep down and this crawling, itching just below his skin.  Is that hunger?  He can’t tell anymore.  All Miamihorror knows is that he needs to hunt.

It’s second nature how the wolf can tell exactly what to do, regardless of the fact that these lands in particular are unfamiliar.  He’s no stranger to this feeling, and it doesn’t take him very long to stumble across a farm among the rolling plains.  Miamihorror has never bothered with being quiet or sneaky or clean; he chases down the first sheep his copper gaze lays upon and digs his claws deep into its flesh.  The male then buries his canines into its throat and tears his head back roughly without letting up, watching his prey’s pure white wool, so pristine and heavenly, turn a deep and deadly shade of red.  He feasts until he can eat no longer, and leaves the carcass sitting in the open as he departs.  Miami doesn’t clean the blood off his pelt just yet — it dries to his gray fur, covering his front like rust.  Whatever lust that had bubbled up from deep within has since quieted down, and he moves across the plains like a ghost.

Miamihorror can’t tell where he’s going or why, but he doesn’t exactly wonder about it either.  He recalls vaguely of hearing of nearby groups and yet the thought only briefly touches his mind.  He’s never been one to think any further ahead than his own paws, has he?  He’s got the scars to prove it.  The canine only lingers on the thought when his jaws, hanging slightly ajar, welcome in the a particular scent, one that hangs heavy in the air.  It’s a mix of many different things — creatures, lots of them.  They must make their home here.  He pauses where he stands, running his tongue across his lips; they still taste metallic with the tang of blood.  For a moment he mulls over his options, but his contemplations are swiftly abandoned in favor of watching the gently sloping hills before him, curiosity piqued by the signs of potential life.

The wolf had found a pack of cigarettes a few days ago — the one that now dangles precariously between his maws is the last of them, and it’s rapidly nearing it end.  He takes a long drag and lets it drop to the grasses earth below before he exhales, watching the thin puff of smoke that briefly hangs in the air until it dissipates with a gentle breeze.  Miamihorror lifts a paw to crush the still-lit butt that lays sputtering among the heath, savoring the flicker of pain its heat brings (though it lasts only for a heartbeat).  His fur is patchy and scruffy and a great deal of it still encrusted with lamb’s blood, and the smell of smoke clings to him yet.  The male rolls his shoulders and, running his tongue across his dagger-like teeth, moves forth to push deeper into the unknown.

/this is unbelievably shitty fjgnsgnfn i’m sorry i’m on mobile and i hate my phone i promise my next posts will be better

/o peeshaw this is fine

What brings Elon to the area is the faint smell of smoke. Considering her fear of fire, she should be looking to walk away from such a smell (quickly at that), but some sense of duty makes her feel obligated to go check it out. If it is fire, she would very much rather be discomforted by putting out a little one than melting in a roaring one across the territory. These plains look as if they're just begging for a spark sometimes. Yet when she turns the corner around a coupling of trees, the white domestic is clearly startled at what she sees. She feels very unfortunate then then that she's comes across something that is even more dangerous than flames at the time- at least she has a chance of running away from those. Considering she wasn't exactly quiet making her way over here, with twigs blown asunder by the wind snapping under her paws and the reeds swaying, Elon knows it's too late to turn back now (he could likely smell her too and in her opinion, she smells great). So she just clears her throat silently and lifts her head some. Holding her ground would feel much better if she had her powers again and let's just say that this wolf doesn't look not menacing while encrusted in the fluid's of a previously living creature. The tang of iron is palpable and it might make her hungry too if she weren't afraid. It's not that Elon is exactly opposed to killing, but she's not keen to be on the wrong end of it. It's a powerplay that she once had the privilege of being at the top of that she used up far too quickly. 

Still if she's going to be wiped out again, she's not going to do so without style. Is she above vicariously leeching the perpetrator's experiences in her own murder? Probably not, but it's a plan to take it like a champ, and really Elon's hoping that the bloody, larger, stronger, sharp toothed canine is totally friendly. Stranger things, right? He wouldn't be the first wolf to live in harmony here. Fronting, the feline raises her paw to pat her lips on a low yawn, but her gaze on the man is sharp though it's hard to tell with her lack of pupils. She notices just then that the wolf was huffing and puffing and says with quaint amusement, [b]"Come here just to litter?" Back in her time they had pipes and really she should have known the smell of tobacco right away since she grew up around those fields, but that was back when she'd be looking at this wolf like supper instead. "Or for something else?" She offers a quirked to the side smile and raises nonexistent brows as her tail flicks about behind her. That and her ear flicking suggests that she's nervous but her deep voice is just as calm and impartial as ever.

SUITE
HEART

[i love miami wow]

The smell of cigarettes reached her first. Suite knew the scent by heart; she had once been a heavy smoker in her youth. That seemed like lifetimes ago now, and what once was a way to quell her trembling limbs and anxious thoughts now only left bittersweet tastes in her mouth. It had been far too many years between that time and this moment anyway, so why was her mind quietly demanding a cigarette? Hadn't she kicked those cravings to the curb?

Metallic scents found her next, and with that, she was instantly on alert. Her baby blue eyes flickered to burning amber for a brief moment, reminded of her own hunger. However, this was not feline blood. No, it smelled... different. Even so, the prospect of bloodshed on her borders was not something she was happy with. Panic ignited in her chest, and she made her way forward, trailing the new, unfamiliar scent of Miamihorror.

The Ecliptic Admiral entered the scene as soon as Elon finished speaking. The fae caught the end of Elon's words, and she arched a fictional eyebrow at the tone in the other female's voice. "Who's your new friend, Elon?" she asked, allowing a friendly lopsided grin to cross her features. She moved to stand at Elon's side before training her eyes on Miamihorror. "Name's Suiteheart."

© [color=black]MADI

*retro to injuries*

The Freelancer refused to hunt while he was in his current form. That was because of the fact that he refused to believe that he was actually an animal, and wouldn't stoop to their level to get to that point either. He wasn't some beast that was going to accept what was given to him and make sure to go on with his life the way he wanted it to. He had nearly starved himself to death by not eating because all that was available was raw meat. The thought sickening the soldier as he was always used to having meals prepared for him, and eating raw meat as a human wasn't exactly the smartest thing to do as they had difficulty digesting the food anyway if it was raw. Not only that but it could make them increasingly sick. Washington knew that his body was going to need to eat some type of food, and he was fine with eating the dried meat that was being given to him by Imperia. The lion-sized animal probably didn't eat enough for what could be considered a full stomach, as he ate enough to just get him through the day till he finally did end up going to sleep at around 0100 hours. The soldier wasn't the type for help, and he also didn't like being around those that were in the current outpost either. The Freelancer had no reason to trust the likes of animals even if he was already part of their ranks for not really doing anything. He just so happened to pass across animals while he was on his patrol, and then he would be able to identify who they were and if they were anyone that he knew.

Washington had no issue with those that joined that were aggressive as long as they didn't try anything with the likes of him. Washington wasn't exactly the greatest fighter either, so he needed to be careful who he was going up against. His large size and armor almost basically for show right now as he couldn't use his maw to attack someone if they did attack him. Washington blinked his golden eyes that were hidden behind his helmet when he heard voices in the distance. He wasn't able to smell anything thanks to the helmet he wore as it filtered out any scents that could even get inside of the helmet. The smilodon began to make his way over as he always had to check those that were joining and what their deal was. There was always a chase that they were a former human and he could use them to his advantage to getting back to his original body. Hearing the smilodon coming wasn't all that hard thanks to the metal pieces that he wore across his body, and he stopped a little bit of a distance away from everyone else. The Freelancer's eyes looked at the wolf, and there was no way for anyone to see his facial features thanks to the armor pieces he did wear. The former human didn't say anything though as he looked at those that were around. Church was here, same with Elon and Suiteheart. He was currently the largest animal that had arrived, and there was a constant cold demeanor that leaked off of the former human. "speech"

/another shit mobile post H

He hears her before he sees her, and when he parts his maws once more he catches wind of a slightly more distinctive scent than of the group itself — a feline.  Miamihorror’s gaze follows her as she rounds the corner, watching with cool expectancy as the unfamiliar creature nears.  He’s sizing her up, his tongue running across his teeth to taste the lingering flavor of nicotine; he’s full, and felines tend to be too small to satisfy his appetite, but he regards her like he’s considering taking a bite.  Maybe it’s because he can tell she’s at least somewhat intimidated — though he’s barely proficient at reading others, the spots the anxious flicking of her tail catches his eye.  She speaks with a bit of spunk, and he quirks a brow.  “Depends — “ the wolf says in reply, baring his yellowed teeth in a forceful smile, “ — on where the hell here is.”

Another set of gentle footfalls joins them, and his attention shifts as his gaze moves to Suiteheart.  Her words garner only a flick of an ear and a sharp exhale through his nose, copper eyes resting on her mildly.  He seems completely uncompelled to respond, as the male pauses to watch the others arrive one by one, silently judging each as they come to a quiet halt.  He doesn’t particularly like how swiftly the tides have turned against his favor, especially with the biggest one in the helmet.  Then again, Miamihorror has never been one to back down from a fight, regardless of the odds; matter of fact, he rather likes a challenge.  The wolf straightens and rolls his shoulders, attempting to appear larger, broader.  Though well-muscled he’s still somewhat lean — a result of his own scrappy youthfulness.  Those who’ve come forth after the second feline have not spoken a word, prompting him to return his attention to Suiteheart.  “What, they your fuckin’ entourage?” he asks coolly, jerking his head at the silent group who have since gathered.  It’s clearly a kind of joke — there’s a certain measured glean behind his eyes, even if his tone remains steady.

He glances briefly at the four and then focuses once more on the admiral, the only to introduce herself.  The wolf eyes her a bit and then offers, “Miamihorror, by the way.”  He finds himself licking his lips again and the metallic tang reminds him to look down.  He’s still covered in blood — he’s almost forgotten.  He looks back up with a smirk upon the realization that this has been his first impression.  God, he could really go for another cig.  “You guys live ‘ere?” Miamihorror finally asks, shifting his weight on his paws.

© MADI

SUITE
HEART

At the question he directed to her, she chuckled before faking a gasp. "How'd you know?" she asked in return, mirth freckling her tone. Though she had just met Miamihorror, she had a feeling she was going to get along swimmingly with him. She admired his attitude. He seemed to be someone who could handle exactly what they dished out, and that was something she respected. Not too many individuals could brag about that, but the wolf seems to have that ability down.

She stole her gaze away from the newcomer long enough to watch Bastilleprisoner arrive. She listened to his words and then nodded. She let out a little 'hmm,' of amusement at her leader's rule for staying. It seemed Bast had jokes too. Returning her attention to Miamihorror, she allowed a lopsided grin to mark her lips. "Welcome to the Ascendants, Miamihorror. Need a tour or are you more of a solo guy?"

© [color=black]MADI