VALEMON

male — 14 months — ascendants — member — tags — rped by Autumnleaf

The sudden blast of sound was a bit disconcerting. Was it someone yelling? It certainly didn’t sound... natural. But what else could it be? Despite the urge to go in the opposite direction, the lion approached the group. His head was low and he was crouched as if stalking prey. And as he got closer, his ears pressed themselves flat against his skull. It did little offer him solace from the static noise.

The box creature emitting the noise was reminiscent of things Anakin might’ve had in their family den. Perhaps it was of similar origin? Valamon’s brow furrowed in concentration and confusion. As gently as he could, the lion prodded the side of the radio with a paw, thinking this might have some affect. Unfortunately nothing happened. Next, Val looked to his new clanmates. Hopefully they were able to do something before all of them went deaf.

♚ bryn had yet to introduce herself to many of the ascendants. she only recognized agathe when emerging to investigate the sudden sound. the others were strangers, and the girl did not like strangers... still, she supposed it would be best if she at least attempted to come around to them. they couldn't all be so bad... she hoped.

bryn herself had never seen many manmade objects or structures outside of the pyramids and the bloodied arena she had fled from. the desert had no place for playthings like radio's or toys. she was lucky enough to keep her elephant blanket from being torn to shreds or lost within sand. though this place... wasn't the desert. she had to keep reminding herself of that. they weren't the pitt. they were allowed to be silly and play games that distracted them from their duties.

she wished they were allowed to never play with this contraption, though.

the screeching blasts of white noise brought her steps to a halt and her body tensed. bryn gritted her teeth together as she was pushed back into the memory of her last day in the pitt. her downfall.

with a bitter snarl bryn forcedfully uprooted a tree's roots and pulled them around the radio, squeezing it until it began to spark and smoke. she released the vines only when the sound completely stopped, and allowed the roots to return back underground.

"problem solved."


"speech"

Just as those who had arrived before him, Miami is drawn forth by the shrill static screeching that rings through the halls of the Observatory.  The cream-furred wolf has risen to his paws and ambles onto the scene with an impaitent flick of one ear and a crookedly set jaw.  There's a sense that he's heard a sound such as this before, even though he can't quite place from where he recognizes it nor exactly what it comes from, but he's more concerned with the fact that what it is hurts his ears.  Whatever curiosity he may have is pushed down in favor of vague irritation, written across his usually-disinteresed countenance in faint annoyance as he comes to a halt.

Lips part to speak and just as suddenly the noise stops.  Miamihorror's copper gaze, half-hidden below a furrowed brow, drifts to the Bryn and then the roots that are now curled around the sputtering noise-box and back to the girl once more, only connecting the dots through her words.  Any sign of discontent seems to melt away as the male relaxes, his expression that of mild interest as he rolls his shoulders back slightly.  "Gee, kid, ya sure know how to kill a party," he deadpans.  Miami doesn't actually care that Bryn had completely destroyed the radio — it wasn't exactly playing anything worth hearing.  To have the ear-splitting blaring silenced was a relief, but he can't resist the joke, regardless of how drily the wolf delivers it.

The object catches his eye again — and, amid the newly-found silence, he remembers it now.  It's one of the many manmade objects he became familiar with during his time living on the outskirts of the city as a lonely cub, though not one he knew well enough to probably operate himself.  He was never into that kind of stuff, messing with human toys.  Miami couldn't claim to know much about music save for a vague acquaintance with it.  "'s a radio," he adds abruply, eyes lifting lazily once more to glance at the group, "was a radio, I guess.  Plays music, usually, but I don't think you'll be get gettin' any more out of this one."