What a fall from grace this has all been.

Nothing innocent can ever last, they will say. People will croon and coddle a child, but when that child grows there are things expected of them. Oh, little child- grown of claws and teeth- you are a creature made to hunt. Instincts will tell the child to hunt- and parents wait for him to pick up the learning curve, but innocence is a willow- it will bend, but when a typhoon comes crashing- the birch tree will fall, and the willow will stand. Mother says this - tells the child so - you just learn when it is right to bend, and when to stand.

There is nothing wrong with being kind.

Nothing wrong with being soft.

And inortis hates this comparison, he is a predator made of tooth and claw- and there is blood staining his fur as there is anyone else- but when people look they see his flinch at violence his stutter. It’s so easy to label someone weak- just because you do not know them. So inortis takes this in and watches back. Crowd watching for the predator- the truly dangerous ones- and avoids them. Living as a loner for the longest time- he has learned to live with being alone.

(but he was always alone, before- before before- he had a home. He was alone, missing father and tender mother. In a big bad world that breaths war and fire into the same sentence. Torture is a punishment- unrelenting for soft kind souls like him. )

But he is not soft, he knows this.

A family trait passed down from generation to generation. Still, he can feel it crawling under his skin like centipedes. Sometimes- sometimes the pale ruby of his gaze will darken to a crimson- and the white of his eyes will blacken- sometimes- sometimes he can be soft, but other times-

(a monster shifts under his skin, and it howls out in hunger)

feed feedfeedfeedfeedF E E D

Maybe there is nothing wrong with it- in anticlans that breed cruelty and war; it is common to see lions feasting on their own. (but he can’t help it- can’t help the craving- that nothing else can satisfy it quite like-)

Inortis has seen fire and the way it consumes. How it spreads and licks and burns- he tries to avoid fire. Not necessarily for the comparison, but for the hidden thrill it gives to the thing inside of him.

disgusting and foul

- burning

hunger

so when his clan filled with darkness  is suddenly filled with light- that the smell of burning home reaches out for miles- Inortis flees. It isn't often that he will indulge with his own reckless impulses- they are too close ligned with the thing. But he does, and for quite a while he lives alone, lives on the brink of starving and alone that he knows- knows lions are made to be social. He needs society as much as a plant needs water. Otherwise the thing get's louder- harder to ignore harder to r e s i s t-

So he travels with no destination in mind, now that he is away from home it makes it easier to stay away. Find a place more aligned to his gentle nature. Maybe a place that is accepting of monsters- even if they are unaware of the one lurking under inny's skin ( he will not tell them, no- they will pull it from him tooth by tooth- if they want to know. See it when he fights back viciously to hold his fragile little mask of gentle.) A place that innortis does not have to fear the looks of every passerby, does not have to worry about his next meal.

to plains and forests, to hills and valleys, until he discover the freshly fallen snow does he halt. Pale red eyes straining, a slight limp- from an injury of another clan he had passed. He is tired and weary, but he knows by now that it is better to wait at the border of a place- knows what can happen if you pass- at least at anticlans. And, well- manners never hurt anyone.

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ah, thank you! Also- mobile post. ^^"//

It is easy to lie to oneself, he knows himself better than he does anyone else. (Knows the hunger under his skin, what triggers it and what curbs it. )  Labling himself as a monster isn't wrong as much as it's... Inadequate of his intentions (and down right depressing to think about) - because monsters are things that lurk in the day with calm eyes licking blood between their claws, stare down allies and enemies alike as if they were a meal. Monsters are something threatening- and inny is all shake and bend and gentle even if he hates it, the label fits well enough. Even if he only keeps it because it is the only armor he will ever have.

He is not a monster, he tells himself this desperately because monsters are dark terrible things that walked along him and his sisters and stared at him between crimson eyes and-

maybe he is not gentle all the time, and maybe somewhere- sometime he is a monster. And to look at inortis and sometimes see a flash of the hunger under his skin, the clicking of his teeth as he chitters between teeth, clicking sound- taunting prey drawing out a challenge crimson eyes starting down something small something scared and shaking and-

To be a monster, you do not always have to be a monster. And inortis wishes it away, if he could have one thing it would be to become the mask he is- that the monster is easy as shedding his fur. He would live happily knowing that he can enjoy the taste of baked yeast without gaging, the smell of fresh fruit without nausea.

Maybe what he needs is a place of monsters seeking peace, but like him no monster will reveal itself. No one will pour their heart out to a stranger, and inny is left stranded, playing the guessing game on where is his new home, closeing his eyes and pointing- preying that his choice will be the right one.

What he knows if snowbound is cold. Cold paws cold home, but warm hearts. And he hopes, the desperately Savage thing inside of him aside; he hopes desperately.

The blood on his jaws is not fresh, but a lingering reminder that he ate- and a rebuttal to keep the thing inside him at bay. A coping method for the wilds - that he remembers isn't common in clans. He winces at the unsettled little thing, even as his own monster clicks it's attention. Regards another preditor something along his back crawls down-downdown. Revulsion is an easy emotion to hide, a slight sheepish grin on his maw as he greets the strangers at the border.

"Ah, my name is innortis,
I was wondering if I could join? " there is no stutter not when these words have been rehearsed for days before hand, when he first got the chills of the snow and word of a clan- snow bound up ahead.


.

Monsters. Atbash only knew of one monster, and that would be her younger brother. At least in her opinion, Caesar was a monster - a ruthless, unforgiving monster. After all, he destroyed their home, he attacked her and scarred her. But worst of all, he killed their parents. He left them to rot and left Atbash with a sense of Survivor's Guilt. She often wished she had been in her mother and father's place, or been left to burn with them. She couldn't understand why they wanted her alive still when it was obvious they weren't going to be around anymore. Who would protect her? There were multiple Dimensions and she didn't know if any of them were like Dimension FiveX. For all she knew, females could be outright slaughtered if they showed up in the Dimension.

The noise on the wind brought the Hailcaller over, her ears pricked and her one good eye wide as she looked about, almost like she was keeping an eye on her surroundings - and she was, but mostly to watch for Caesar and The Pitt or any other sort of predator that could be lurking around. Atbash luckily arrived just in time to hear the conversation that was happening and allowed a soft smile to form on her face. "You're absolutely welcome." The she-cat chirped, echoing Nui's words. "I'm Atbash Cipher, the Hailcaller, or leader, here." She introduced herself quickly. "What about some hot chocolate? I can gladly get you some right now if you'd like." Conjuration was a wonderful thing.