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+---- Thread: POLO? POLO?! | joining (/showthread.php?tid=7849)
POLO? POLO?! | joining - — MALKYN. - 11-11-2018
Familiarity, she thinks.
Normalcy, she murmurs through the bond. A response to the refreshing smell of salt water and sand she recognizes from Talia’s end. It’s then that she hears Talia’s excited exclamation, I see water!
She nearly responds sarcastically, making a dig at her own lack of sight but keeps it to herself, shaking her head slightly. As if her wife could see her doing it anyhow. She prefers walking to flying, especially when she can’t see her destination, but it does take longer than it usually would.
Malkyn misses the small village, she misses the quietness of it, the peaceful feeling it gave off as the waves crashed against the shore, the seagulls above them. She doesn’t miss the fort, or the mall. She misses the village, with the soft-hearted members, the gentleness and the warmth.
The slightly smaller hellhound at four feet uses what imagery she got from the bond of the island to find the land bridge. Wings tuck tightly against her sides as she feels herself walk too close to the edge occasionally and slide down into the water with one foot. Eventually, the disabled hound gets to the island, sitting down heavily and shifting her wings slightly to get more comfortable.
Far from where we were. Her back legs sit at an awkward angle, feeling half dead from the walk but at least she can feel them. A heavy weight lands on her horns, air rushing down her back and an inquisitive chirp falling from the large bird that’s just landed on her head.
”Touch the bell, Vahlen. And that doesn’t mean throwing a bone at it.” She feels the bearded vulture let go of her horns and fly over to the bell nearby, a sudden sound of the bell tolling and then a louder more curious squawk from her companion.
What she can’t see is the large bird leaned over one of the concrete slabs, looking into a bucket of black mambas.
Re: POLO? POLO?! | joining - Masie - 11-11-2018
ding, dong. the chime of the bell being rung echoed in her ears as it washed over the forest near the border, which was right near the nest she lived in. Someone new was at the edge of the territory! Elongated feet carried her swiftly with powerful legs boosting her speed to break neck for something her size, bringing her over very swiftly. Large golden optics blinked, slit pupils focused on the figure just within her sight. Indeed that was someone she had never met before, head held slightly low and to the side as she strode forward to get a much better look. "I'm Masie. Who You?!" she chittered out, but it was in another tongue that of her species not normal english, meaning it was unlikely the other would be able to understand. Yet, curiosity was universal so at least that should get her somewhere with this new creature!
Re: POLO? POLO?! | joining - PEPPINO - 11-11-2018
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Many of the people who arrived here had made long journeys, or had some mental fatigue of some kind. Pip was quietly curious about the places some of them must have come from, those who didn't smell of other clans, or at least none of the clans in the area. Pip didn't think that the whole world was limited to the other groups he knew of, and sometimes he wanted to go exploring, find those places no one else here had ever gone. That was a way of helping people, wasn't it? A travelling medic of sorts, bringing medicine rather than waiting for them to come to him. There was so much he still needed to learn, though, and even though he did not speak so often with his family, he didn't want to leave them. Going off somewhere by himself seemed so lonely, and while he was willing to do it if it meant reaching more of those who needed help, it was still daunting. Pip felt selfish for it.
For now, though, he could help the people who came to The Typhoon, so he didn't hesitate to seek out the gates when the sound of the bell echoed. One of Owen's raptors was there -Pip hadn't learned any of their names and, truth be told, wasn't certain how to feel about them- but the sounds the creature made weren't understandable, at least not by Pip. He glanced from the raptor to the hound, much taller than he was, and then to the bird at the basket of mambas. "You don't want those!" Pip exclaimed, uncertain whether the avian would understand him, and his gaze went to the hound. "We- have a basket of black mambas. I hope your friend leaves them be." The canine straightened up, inhaling, and it seemed the stranger was blind, or had some level of vision impairment. "Are you here to stay? My name is Pip. If you have any injuries, I can tend to them."
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For now, though, he could help the people who came to The Typhoon, so he didn't hesitate to seek out the gates when the sound of the bell echoed. One of Owen's raptors was there -Pip hadn't learned any of their names and, truth be told, wasn't certain how to feel about them- but the sounds the creature made weren't understandable, at least not by Pip. He glanced from the raptor to the hound, much taller than he was, and then to the bird at the basket of mambas. "You don't want those!" Pip exclaimed, uncertain whether the avian would understand him, and his gaze went to the hound. "We- have a basket of black mambas. I hope your friend leaves them be." The canine straightened up, inhaling, and it seemed the stranger was blind, or had some level of vision impairment. "Are you here to stay? My name is Pip. If you have any injuries, I can tend to them."
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Re: POLO? POLO?! | joining - Grimm - 11-11-2018
[align=center][div style="max-width: 420px; line-height:120%; font-family: arial; font-size: 8.5pt; text-align: justify; margin-bottom:5px"]Flight. Upon the tip of tongue it may never find place, drawn across gentle exhale slipping through cracks between teeth, but within the delicate lace of thought it lingers upon gentle edges, found home within it all. Treasure is it, a gleaming jewel of glass cradled within hands that tremble ever so slightly, trailing over it and clear their want for such a thing, threaded through the structure of each thought, touching upon moments of quiet contemplation. Almost beyond stretch of possibility is it to place within the structure of words given to them, mix of tongue grown common as many picked at its worn threads yet the other deemed dead, found no place upon living tongue but rather given to history, barely scratching along the surface of want.
Within the hollow of chest it beats so like the little wings drawn close to the shoulder blades, resting upon the curve of spine, the softly toned downy fluff at the mercy of slight breeze. Always is it there, desire to allow them to spread no matter the slight set of them, never enough power within muscle nor bone, weak the stirring of wind as they made each attempt to take flight. It bore no matter the dreams of child, being of so minimal a time and within sheltered and coordinated each experience, the wings adorning them were given no purpose, simply pretty decoration.
Yet they stir, slight the lift of them as within small head the loud clamour of the bell arises and lingers, trailing across the surface of bone. Faint is the memory of such sound, distant for within the confinement of home sound found itself lingering upon higher octaves, drowning all else out. All the same they knew the purpose for it, head shifting as the sound of others moving by draw dull gaze, gentle the sound of confusion pulled from pale toned lips. Shuffle of small paws along the loose top soil, pace given a steady but slow beat, following behind one familiar within some ways. Such is what makes their decision to settle near to Pip, struggle to hold back want to lean into his leg and so they do not fight it and instead allow it, moving until their weight may press into him, enjoying the tang of herbs about him.
“Don't hurt them,” wide are the eyes that turn towards the dark mass of stranger, the words spoken above their head taking a few seconds to register but once they did sudden is the flare of heat, trembling and uneasy, working through chest until shaky breath escapes. Odd is the sensation of affection towards the reptilian captives, mass of life coiling about one another awaiting the idiocy of one that sought to sound the call of the bell one too many times, but they bare no want to question it. Rather fearful are the eyes turned towards Malkyn, frown drawn across shaky lips.
Re: POLO? POLO?! | joining - cleo roux. - 11-11-2018
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11px;"]Cleo didn't think she'd ever get used to the small collection of black mambas the Typhoon had managed to amass, not when they stood to appear so similarly to Eshe. When handling joiners in the past, she had silently thanked her poor hearing for not picking up on their hisses, nothing more than a detail she could disregard if she didn't permit her red gaze to slide in their direction. And she never did, not when their existence alone ushered forth memories of that all consuming darkness and of the pain inflicted upon her - upon her leg - by her former companion. But that looming mass of a creature's even more frightening bird seemed to be intrigued by their little snake collection and Cleo detected the first feelings of panic rise suddenly within her. Her breaths would come quicker, tiny claws hooking into the ground as they had so many times in the past. No. No. No.
She tried to fixate her focus on anything else, almost crying in relief as she realized that Kaisa was here. The younger child had become somewhat of a comfort to Cleo and in her ailed state, she wanted nothing more than to creep closer to her. A coward. She was a coward- afraid of the very creature she had once adored, once commanded. And Malkyn... She was just like that other hound-esque creature, big and intimidating and capable of starting an inescapable tremble in her legs. It was as if the fates had come together to play off of all her fears, extending her no mercy as they carelessly shoved memory after memory of that dark time down her throat. I am Cleo Roux, The shaky thought formed, red eyes momentarily squeezing shut, And I will not be afraid.
At long last the bengal lifted her gaze up, eyes clouded with terror but upon Mal nonetheless. Do not be afraid, She reminded herself, teeth sinking into her inner cheek. The sting brought her back to reality, permitting her rational mind (what was left of it underneath that horror, anyways) to once more assume control. She hadn't heard any of what her clanmates had said, both too engulfed by her own paranoia and not close enough to hear them with her poor ears, but decided to try and address this stranger. She was Cleo Roux. She was Cleo Roux. "I am Cleo Roux." Voice barely above a whisper, she extended a simple introduction to Mal, finally stealing a cautious glance at her back legs. She'd look down at her own and feel a little better, her anxiety subsiding slightly. She seemed unburdened by whatever afflicted her and, though they had just met, it was inspiring.
"What's your..." She paused as if the concept of a name had fled from her mind just as quickly as it came, only resuming when she was sure she knew what she was talking about again, "Name... What's your name?"
Re: POLO? POLO?! | joining - Evelyn - 11-12-2018
"I'm sure Vahlen would be able to handle himself should the need arise." With the quip dangling in the air, Talia makes her own approach with soft footfalls, leaving a trail of frost behind. She'd arrived only slightly earlier than the other but had been confident all the same that her lady love would find the entrance with ease. Malkyn is still a force to be reckoned with, after all; she's a storm that the white hellhound would gladly bask in whenever she's given the chance.
Overhead, her own feathered companion trills harshly, landing on Talia's antler and giving the vulture a nasty look. Boob has never really liked Vahlen but still possesses some semblance of respect towards the much larger bird, albeit completely begrudging. She gives him a contemptuous look before turning her attention forward--only to be assaulted by the sight of Malkyn, another figure she'd never been too fond of. Talia has always wondered why.
"My dear, I'm glad to see you here," comes Talia's rumbled greeting, easily pushing past the gathered Typhoon members to greet her wife with a smile felt clearly through their shared bond. It's warm and thick without being too overwhelming, only seeping through the cracks and waiting patiently at the middle, waiting to see if Malkyn would reach out and let it flow into her. Such is the nature of their relationship; after years of suffering through terrible tragedy, she knows better than to crowd.
Instead, she turns to stand by her mate, her Alpha, close enough for her presence to be felt but too far, still, to touch--it'll always be Malkyn's decision to breach that distance, if it pleases her.
Her eyes move towards the others, and a ring of gold forms around her irises, glowing bright against the writhing darkness of her black sclerae to signify their shared vision. In that moment, she is an extension of the hellhound to her right. What Talia can see, so can Malkyn.
Overhead, her own feathered companion trills harshly, landing on Talia's antler and giving the vulture a nasty look. Boob has never really liked Vahlen but still possesses some semblance of respect towards the much larger bird, albeit completely begrudging. She gives him a contemptuous look before turning her attention forward--only to be assaulted by the sight of Malkyn, another figure she'd never been too fond of. Talia has always wondered why.
"My dear, I'm glad to see you here," comes Talia's rumbled greeting, easily pushing past the gathered Typhoon members to greet her wife with a smile felt clearly through their shared bond. It's warm and thick without being too overwhelming, only seeping through the cracks and waiting patiently at the middle, waiting to see if Malkyn would reach out and let it flow into her. Such is the nature of their relationship; after years of suffering through terrible tragedy, she knows better than to crowd.
Instead, she turns to stand by her mate, her Alpha, close enough for her presence to be felt but too far, still, to touch--it'll always be Malkyn's decision to breach that distance, if it pleases her.
Her eyes move towards the others, and a ring of gold forms around her irises, glowing bright against the writhing darkness of her black sclerae to signify their shared vision. In that moment, she is an extension of the hellhound to her right. What Talia can see, so can Malkyn.