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Blood on my name;; o, development - ARGUS - 04-27-2018
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And the sky was awashed in shadows. The moon made no apearance- but the stars did not hesitate to bathe the night in it's own light. The lone watcher's footfalls silent along the sands of the beach in compariosion to the gentle humm of the ocean at her side. The watcher's gaze was lensed through it's own glow of heedy red. floodlights of red bouncing across the sand as the lone being lumbered, wings set in a tense folded position as if the world was set across her back.
Argus has had many a night to choose. She had had up to a moon, and with each day the growing desperation clawed her throat raw from holding back screams. Her mind ricocheting across its own walls from keeping in the laughter, her heart knocking with each heartbeat a new mantra. The words on the bottle of her initiation glued to the back of her eyelids and she couldn't take it. She was losing control, spiraling out of whatever path she wanted into something dark and very familiar. The beach's pale sand was darkening. Under her feet. White dissipating into a smokey substance. Black sand that was along the northern part of the border. Treasure Cove.
She grew up killing to live. Among monsters, she found enjoyment in other's suffering. In the desert where they drank the blood of their enemies like ichor from their Red God. They howled and screamed right next to their prisoner's dying gasps and taunted their loving families to get them back. They bred the word revenge. Acolytes of slaughter and war and she was raised to love it. Raised to do the same. Bloodclan. A place where the name was a warning. When enemies stopped short of the border wall to claim the corpses of their loved ones- too afraid to step past the blatant warning provided by the clan's most merciful. Merciful enough to leave something for them to claim.
But in that clan- they were still a family. Tightly knit and broken individuals that created a whole. A single unit that could not be divided. Argus at a young age found duty in it. She- left alone by the edges of that border found beauty in the whole writing mass of destruction. It was her first claim to home. The first place she swore to protect with her entier being. To preserve the broken individuals inside just for a hint of the same taste of community.
It was within the sands, in a similar shade of twilight that Argus danced the night away with her crush. Her love's fur as white as Argus' was now. Dugs laced their veigns and and they made an accident that blessed Argus' life with her first ever hope of a family. A night like this four souls greeted her with mom on their tongue. With her blood and some aspect of herself in them. Maybe that was where it all went wrong. Maybe that was the fault in all of her children. The black blood she carried was not meant to be passed on.
It was now, within the sands as black as Argus' fur was when she greeted this mortal relm, that she was now hollow. A desperation that would not leave her. It shook inside her every graceful step, it rimmed her eyes every blink and it showed the most by this g a p e i n g h o l e. She hated it. Hated the way that no matter how easily she could hide her spirit it still lingered on her body. On this physical manifestation to which she would commune with others- they would note the Gap where her breath should stutter. Where any mortal would guard as one of the weakpoints of their life. She h a t e d it.
Memories linger- flickers as she gasped and gaped under the darkness of a different light. Where she tore open her heart to the only being she knew old enough to know not only the name she now carried. She wonders what he thinks of her little flaw. Of this blemish on her pure white fur- so much like the daughter she has stolen from him. If the tears and confession of- I have done so much in the name of a family. I am undeserving of one. I abandoned my own, I destroyed yours. Lucifer, I am sorry. SHe wonders if the devil thinks of her and reflects how easy it is that she broke. Under time, under stress, under the pressure of the voices that he had lived with as well. Voices of the damned screaming at them both- she knew. She knew he hated her too- that even now as he tells her it's gone that there is still a spark of that same hate. How he t a u n t s her now. Reminds her of her sins with his presence. She wonders if he takes joy in torturing her now. Wonders how much more she deserves- how much before she falls beyond fixable. before she is pushed beyond the line of savageness to far to return from.
She remembers the cold glare of her daughter. With eyes, the same shade of her father's looked at her with the animosity Argus grew with her secrets. Argus, unable to swallow the faults of her self and her sins. Unable to answer the questions willow pestered her with. Remembers willow's youth how she would set off glitter bombs in her clanmates much to get the approval of her mother. Argus remembers how willow's bright brown eyes flashed the same shade of her mother's and defaulted to the beast that lingered under the watcher's skin. How her willow disappeared under the same shade of twilight as it is now. Wonders if she ever figured out what Argus hid from her. Wonders if willow died with the same shadow of perfect brown or the hateful electric blue that Argus now hides away.
Argus was born with the need for blood. Born with the ideology that the justice was just another word for revenge. Where family meant someone you would die for and family didn't necessarily mean blood relatives. But Now- within the twilight shade where Argus is just a speck along the black beach of a forbid area for the entirety of the clan. Now a new need dug into her brain and frayed her senses until ever walking breathing thing was just a morsel to consume. Where the damn hole across her neck was the only reminder of what she was. A hollow desperate thing that lost every single value they once had. Lost the ability to act to move and once quaked with the single boiling of rage in her blood. Her name a mockery of her inability. A watcher- a beast with too many eyes- too many lives and too much power but without a damn without a fraction of ability to [b]c h an g e
Now- now she reflects on a more recent event of meeting Killua. The Domestic feline that Argus only had memories of knowing. Between lensed blue she saw red in the setting of the sands. Familiar white fur carrying her son's body towards the border. Bringing with him the start of the end. Argus did not linger on that- drifting her head to when she first saw him on the border. While she was cautious, toying- Killua remained indifferent and unknowing. Turning into conflicted realization and dread as he ran off in the other direction. She wonders when her curiosity allowed that need- of family and companionship to sink its claws into the Snowseeker. Wonders if there is a chance for something honest and real between them even possible with how broken they were. Because when she looked at him he reminded her of a son. The last time she tried to claim someone as her own- it backfired- quite literally.
She is afraid of that, ultamaltely. Afraid of breaking something precious or something that could be precious to her. Brittle, the both of them. She was all too aware how a mind like that worked- knew how to make it like that sure but- could she fix it? Could she help the broken little apprentice rid of the voice inside his own head? Did she want to? Would she rather play to it- sink her claws deeper, under his skin mayb-
no
no more.
somewhere, within her consious mind something alerts her to the presence of someone else there.
Alone, on the black beach no longer. Argus still stuck within her daze but ceases her paceing. Gaze drifting along the mimicry of the star speckled sky the sea gifted her. The sea from the northern shore of Treasure Cove was so much darker than that of the southern border. An almost nightmarish relfection of their home- if she turned around maybe she'd see-
"My Zactov, what a little mess you've made for yourself here." Red pupiless eyes drilled into her own, outlined by bone rather than fur. Antelope like horns instead of ears. The demon grinned with a lipless-skinless smile at her. His voice rough much like iron clashing together in a forge. A ghost of laughter in his voice as he spoke. The demon deranged- driven to it by the betrayal that they both had experienced.
Along the beach, demon and immortal met like old friends. "It's my moon again Zactov. Are you ready for it? You did not forget your vow to me- did you?" Here the laughter bounces into a snarl. The dead glimmer in his eyes seeming to dim but the red all-encompassing. He took steps forward, claws cutting through the sand as he pushed forward. Within her frozen expression.
Argus' vow- yes her vow. To give in to her insanity, to send others to the same. All given to her through the blessing. The wyrm's gift both gifts- her name that she had tried to hide. Blood red tinged her vision- Before she could finish the thought claws sized her chin. Staring into the red gaze of her indebted. "Za̶c̷t̶o͡v̵, Y͝o̴u̴ h̛e̕a͜r me? ̡You̵.͟ A͢ŕe. Mín̨e͞!" It was with glee that he took her left arm. Claws digging into it as he carved the mark- the mark she had gotten rid of back onto her arm."Th͠ey̵ ̀can ̢n̡oţ ͏hav̶e y̨o̷u͡!̸ Yoư ̷Ar̸e̷ ̕Źa̴ctov͡!̴ ̴You͡ are m̶ine̛!̸"
And in an instant- the demon is merely smoke within the black sands. Argus is left alone with the frenzy that her name evokes and her blood scenting the air only helped drive her further within the spiral d o w n.
She bounds within the sands, her laughter erupting from her own maws as her claws dig deep in her own flesh. Clawing around the hole in her throat- under her chin. Her maw opens to the taste of blood dribbling down her chin. Her scream mocking- hiding those of the victims she finds along the beach. She does not remember the faces. Either of the greedy crewmates that decided to snoop within the black beach, nor the rouges or passerby's caught along the jungle's edge. But as dawn graces the northern end and Argus' bright red eyes dim back into the foggy red- she is caked with the blood of both herself and her victims. Drifting within the jungle in a daze. She tries to remember what it was like to live in the place, and distantly trying to hide the satisfaction of feeling blood seep into the white of her fur.[W]isker
Argus has had many a night to choose. She had had up to a moon, and with each day the growing desperation clawed her throat raw from holding back screams. Her mind ricocheting across its own walls from keeping in the laughter, her heart knocking with each heartbeat a new mantra. The words on the bottle of her initiation glued to the back of her eyelids and she couldn't take it. She was losing control, spiraling out of whatever path she wanted into something dark and very familiar. The beach's pale sand was darkening. Under her feet. White dissipating into a smokey substance. Black sand that was along the northern part of the border. Treasure Cove.
She grew up killing to live. Among monsters, she found enjoyment in other's suffering. In the desert where they drank the blood of their enemies like ichor from their Red God. They howled and screamed right next to their prisoner's dying gasps and taunted their loving families to get them back. They bred the word revenge. Acolytes of slaughter and war and she was raised to love it. Raised to do the same. Bloodclan. A place where the name was a warning. When enemies stopped short of the border wall to claim the corpses of their loved ones- too afraid to step past the blatant warning provided by the clan's most merciful. Merciful enough to leave something for them to claim.
But in that clan- they were still a family. Tightly knit and broken individuals that created a whole. A single unit that could not be divided. Argus at a young age found duty in it. She- left alone by the edges of that border found beauty in the whole writing mass of destruction. It was her first claim to home. The first place she swore to protect with her entier being. To preserve the broken individuals inside just for a hint of the same taste of community.
It was within the sands, in a similar shade of twilight that Argus danced the night away with her crush. Her love's fur as white as Argus' was now. Dugs laced their veigns and and they made an accident that blessed Argus' life with her first ever hope of a family. A night like this four souls greeted her with mom on their tongue. With her blood and some aspect of herself in them. Maybe that was where it all went wrong. Maybe that was the fault in all of her children. The black blood she carried was not meant to be passed on.
It was now, within the sands as black as Argus' fur was when she greeted this mortal relm, that she was now hollow. A desperation that would not leave her. It shook inside her every graceful step, it rimmed her eyes every blink and it showed the most by this g a p e i n g h o l e. She hated it. Hated the way that no matter how easily she could hide her spirit it still lingered on her body. On this physical manifestation to which she would commune with others- they would note the Gap where her breath should stutter. Where any mortal would guard as one of the weakpoints of their life. She h a t e d it.
Memories linger- flickers as she gasped and gaped under the darkness of a different light. Where she tore open her heart to the only being she knew old enough to know not only the name she now carried. She wonders what he thinks of her little flaw. Of this blemish on her pure white fur- so much like the daughter she has stolen from him. If the tears and confession of- I have done so much in the name of a family. I am undeserving of one. I abandoned my own, I destroyed yours. Lucifer, I am sorry. SHe wonders if the devil thinks of her and reflects how easy it is that she broke. Under time, under stress, under the pressure of the voices that he had lived with as well. Voices of the damned screaming at them both- she knew. She knew he hated her too- that even now as he tells her it's gone that there is still a spark of that same hate. How he t a u n t s her now. Reminds her of her sins with his presence. She wonders if he takes joy in torturing her now. Wonders how much more she deserves- how much before she falls beyond fixable. before she is pushed beyond the line of savageness to far to return from.
She remembers the cold glare of her daughter. With eyes, the same shade of her father's looked at her with the animosity Argus grew with her secrets. Argus, unable to swallow the faults of her self and her sins. Unable to answer the questions willow pestered her with. Remembers willow's youth how she would set off glitter bombs in her clanmates much to get the approval of her mother. Argus remembers how willow's bright brown eyes flashed the same shade of her mother's and defaulted to the beast that lingered under the watcher's skin. How her willow disappeared under the same shade of twilight as it is now. Wonders if she ever figured out what Argus hid from her. Wonders if willow died with the same shadow of perfect brown or the hateful electric blue that Argus now hides away.
Argus was born with the need for blood. Born with the ideology that the justice was just another word for revenge. Where family meant someone you would die for and family didn't necessarily mean blood relatives. But Now- within the twilight shade where Argus is just a speck along the black beach of a forbid area for the entirety of the clan. Now a new need dug into her brain and frayed her senses until ever walking breathing thing was just a morsel to consume. Where the damn hole across her neck was the only reminder of what she was. A hollow desperate thing that lost every single value they once had. Lost the ability to act to move and once quaked with the single boiling of rage in her blood. Her name a mockery of her inability. A watcher- a beast with too many eyes- too many lives and too much power but without a damn without a fraction of ability to [b]c h an g e
Now- now she reflects on a more recent event of meeting Killua. The Domestic feline that Argus only had memories of knowing. Between lensed blue she saw red in the setting of the sands. Familiar white fur carrying her son's body towards the border. Bringing with him the start of the end. Argus did not linger on that- drifting her head to when she first saw him on the border. While she was cautious, toying- Killua remained indifferent and unknowing. Turning into conflicted realization and dread as he ran off in the other direction. She wonders when her curiosity allowed that need- of family and companionship to sink its claws into the Snowseeker. Wonders if there is a chance for something honest and real between them even possible with how broken they were. Because when she looked at him he reminded her of a son. The last time she tried to claim someone as her own- it backfired- quite literally.
She is afraid of that, ultamaltely. Afraid of breaking something precious or something that could be precious to her. Brittle, the both of them. She was all too aware how a mind like that worked- knew how to make it like that sure but- could she fix it? Could she help the broken little apprentice rid of the voice inside his own head? Did she want to? Would she rather play to it- sink her claws deeper, under his skin mayb-
no
no more.
somewhere, within her consious mind something alerts her to the presence of someone else there.
Alone, on the black beach no longer. Argus still stuck within her daze but ceases her paceing. Gaze drifting along the mimicry of the star speckled sky the sea gifted her. The sea from the northern shore of Treasure Cove was so much darker than that of the southern border. An almost nightmarish relfection of their home- if she turned around maybe she'd see-
"My Zactov, what a little mess you've made for yourself here." Red pupiless eyes drilled into her own, outlined by bone rather than fur. Antelope like horns instead of ears. The demon grinned with a lipless-skinless smile at her. His voice rough much like iron clashing together in a forge. A ghost of laughter in his voice as he spoke. The demon deranged- driven to it by the betrayal that they both had experienced.
Along the beach, demon and immortal met like old friends. "It's my moon again Zactov. Are you ready for it? You did not forget your vow to me- did you?" Here the laughter bounces into a snarl. The dead glimmer in his eyes seeming to dim but the red all-encompassing. He took steps forward, claws cutting through the sand as he pushed forward. Within her frozen expression.
Argus' vow- yes her vow. To give in to her insanity, to send others to the same. All given to her through the blessing. The wyrm's gift both gifts- her name that she had tried to hide. Blood red tinged her vision- Before she could finish the thought claws sized her chin. Staring into the red gaze of her indebted. "Za̶c̷t̶o͡v̵, Y͝o̴u̴ h̛e̕a͜r me? ̡You̵.͟ A͢ŕe. Mín̨e͞!" It was with glee that he took her left arm. Claws digging into it as he carved the mark- the mark she had gotten rid of back onto her arm."Th͠ey̵ ̀can ̢n̡oţ ͏hav̶e y̨o̷u͡!̸ Yoư ̷Ar̸e̷ ̕Źa̴ctov͡!̴ ̴You͡ are m̶ine̛!̸"
And in an instant- the demon is merely smoke within the black sands. Argus is left alone with the frenzy that her name evokes and her blood scenting the air only helped drive her further within the spiral d o w n.
She bounds within the sands, her laughter erupting from her own maws as her claws dig deep in her own flesh. Clawing around the hole in her throat- under her chin. Her maw opens to the taste of blood dribbling down her chin. Her scream mocking- hiding those of the victims she finds along the beach. She does not remember the faces. Either of the greedy crewmates that decided to snoop within the black beach, nor the rouges or passerby's caught along the jungle's edge. But as dawn graces the northern end and Argus' bright red eyes dim back into the foggy red- she is caked with the blood of both herself and her victims. Drifting within the jungle in a daze. She tries to remember what it was like to live in the place, and distantly trying to hide the satisfaction of feeling blood seep into the white of her fur.[W]isker
Re: Blood on my name;; o, development - Guru - 04-27-2018
what did you do to her
/tracking bc guru will encourage her and that's not good in an open thread
Re: Blood on my name;; o, development - | KILLUA ZOLDYCK | - 04-27-2018
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[shadow=darkblue,right]KILLUA[/shadow]
.
(permission given by whisper to post here, feel free to have your character get pissed that he's here lol He does not have Snowbound scent on him though.)
One could say that Killua grew up getting everything that he could ever want. They had butlers. He had all the different kinds of food that he wanted. The butlers would give him anything that he desired as long as it was realistic. He was allowed to treat the butlers however he wanted and not care about what happened to them based on their actions. Killua had no reason to care about the butlers at first, because they were just doing their job and he was doing his own and nothing else. But, with all great things there comes a catch. If Killua only mentioned the good thing that his family had given him, it would have been a very limited list. They would immediately think that he didn't live a lavish life and instead lived a life of nothing but abuse and cruelty. Considering all Killua knew at the time was the abuse and cruelty, he didn't know that there was a better life out there when it came to the clans. Compared to clan life, his life had been something that was extremely difficult to live through, while some of the clans had a lavish life based of where they lived and how their own opinions made it themselves. Some of the clans did have to deal with war all of the time, but they didn't have to fear to die in battle due to the factor that other clans rarely killed one another. Which had astonished Killua when he had first learned of that at all. Killing had become second nature to him, and it fit his name all too well. Children themselves were particularly easy to try and brainwash because they would always have trust in their parents. If they didn't, then the parents had already done something to make that trust disappear from their own child. Which could prove to be horrible for the child as they would be more than likely to try and get away from their own parents. His parents had done the right thing though and gave Killua basically anything that he wanted. Almost making him turn into a brat because he was the one that was almost treated like royalty compared to the rest of his siblings as he was going to be the heir to the family name and the family business. A business that no one in the world should ever try to stick their noses in. They treated him with kindness and even played games with him once his eyes had opened and he was ready to start exploring like any sort of kid that existed in this world. During this portion of his life, this had been the only time his parents had ever really been nice and kind to him. It was when he was old enough to survive the trauma that they were going to put him through that the kindness and the safety seemed to disappear immediately. He rarely ever saw his parents after that, as they were all doing their own jobs with the family business and had jobs to go out on. Sometimes it would be a month before he ever saw his father again, and they rarely talked unless it was about how his progress was going when it came to his training. His parents never even explained to him what they were and how dangerous they were for the rest of the world. It had to be the oldest sibling of the family to have to tell and explain to him about everything. Training and working as an animal was common knowledge as it meant that they would be able to survive.
At a young age, his training had played into his instincts, and that meant the instinct to hunt and kill. His older brother knew about this all too well, and that's how his training had started. He was ordered to simply try to kill a mouse, and if he didn't he would then be punished. He had no idea what pain had been at the time until a whip came across his back close to his spine. His eyes sprung with tears as he immediately tried to get away from his brother. Who had regarded him with a cold look and told him to continue despite the bleeding wound. At such a small size there was only so much the serval could take before he would ultimately die of blood loss. His family had done research on the species and had made sure that they would stick with that species for the time being as it would give Killua an advantage in being such a small body. His parents having planned practically everything before he was even born when they had shifted into those bodies. The clanners weren't the only ones that were capable of powers, and when his family realized that he had been born with powers, they had an idea that he was going to end up being a prodigy. Killua was a quick learner, such as anyone around that age always was as kittens and young cubs were used to absorbing information almost like a sponge in that regard. He was taught how to kill very quickly, and loners were brought into the mansion where they lived, chained in the dungeon where they were going to be used as a dummy for Killua to test his skills on. Killua remembered their screams that echoed in the room that he had been in as he used his claws as a utensil to carve into the victim's flesh. There was nothing they could do as his older brother was always there to make sure that Killua was safe and that he was going to be okay. Killua hadn't been sure what to think of Illumi when he was younger. He would be the one that would always hurt him, but he would always be the one to patch up his wounds after the deed had been done. This made Killua think that the tiger actually cared about his well being and knew that he was doing because he thought it was for the best. Killua had no idea that his older brother planned on completely controlling and manipulating him once he was old enough. This was because the other wasn't going to be the heir despite being the oldest in the family other than their parents. So, if he couldn't control the affairs of the family, he might as well control the creature that was bound to control the affairs of the family in the future. That had been his older brother's plan from the very beginning, and a plan that Killua still didn't know about. He wasn't even sure if Illumi had followed his father's orders, probably making up his own orders and telling Killua that it would all end in due time. Illumi had taught Killua how to feel joy in inflicting pain on others and not feeling guilty about it. Why should he? The rest of his siblings were doing the exact same training and the exact same methods like he was. So he wasn't alone in that regard, but this didn't make what he was doing right. Killua had only felt enjoyment for a couple months before the methods grew all the same and the same with the reactions that were directed toward him. Screaming. Begging for their lives. They were all the same. Now, if someone gave him an interesting reaction, he would probably feel some form of excitement. At this point, he had grown numb to everything. Numb to where he didn't want to do anything anymore and just wanted to get away. He wanted to explore the world and have fun, even if he knew that he would be alone in this world for quite a while.
Killua wasn't sure if he should trust Argus at all. The white wolf had kept herself mysterious since the last time that they had interacted on the Typhoon border. Considering what had happened with Snowbound and the Typhoon, the assassin didn't think that they should deal with the other group at all. Yet, Jacob constantly talks about having an alliance with the group even if he had been the one that was captured by them. Killua didn't buy it, because the Typhoon tried to make themselves look like the good guys when they had let Jacob stay long enough that he was healthy to go back to the group. If they had delivered him while he was still injured, then no matter what they said wouldn't have been enough to convince the rest of the clan that they were the good guys in this situation. The young male didn't rust the Typhoon in the slightest, especially since Argus was there. He kind of figured what kind of creatures lived in the Typhoon, at least by their personalities from the ones that he had met. The albino serval wasn't a huge fan of them, especially Guru. The caracal a lot weaker than he was, and what he would give to be able to slice her throat open just to show her exactly how outmatched she was. The punishment that Pincher had given the female wasn't even really considered a punishment. The punishments that his own family had given him for speaking out or not completely a task perfect were more threatening than just having an ear cut off. Now, if he had one of his ears cut off it would become detrimental to him as servals had amazing hearing thanks to their large ears. If one of his ears were cut off all the way to his skull, he would be at a disadvantage. Killua had told himself either way that he wasn't going to go back to the Typhoon, and simply just wait for Argus to talk to him. The other had opted to help him with the voice that was in his head and had actually finally told him her name since the last time that they had interacted with one another. Killua wasn't sure if he should completely trust her at the moment, which he was going to stick with. He had opted not to trust anyone that he encountered unless he knew more about them. Right now though, Killua didn't have a choice as the older female had a chance to actually get the voice out of his head and potentially help him. If it exploded in his face, that was his own fault and he was willing to face the consequences. But was Argus? The other was bound to get the wrath of the Zoldyck family if she wasn't careful enough with her actions. The Zoldyck's had some way of finding him eventually, and he could eventually see them going after Argus if she got too close to him. Killua didn't trust anyone in the Typhoon, and yet here he was. The assassin had been paranoid about the time that they last talked to each other, which had been the last time that the Typhoon had made an appearance on the Snowbound border. Some creatures knew now that he was from Snowbound while other's did, so he kept his air elementals up just in case he got into trouble with someone. He wasn't here to start a fight, as he was too exhausted to really care if he got yelled at by others. Killua hadn't slept since Argus had talked to him and offered her assistance toward him. Too afraid of what the night terrors could end up bringing, and too afraid to let other's hear him in such a state. He lived away from camp, but there were plenty of animals that were walking around at night.
The albino serval walked along the old railroad tracks that lead to the main gate of the territory of the Typhoon. His stark white fur obvious against the backdrop of the ocean. An ocean that he had no intention of jumping into any time soon. He would rather roll around in some snow than just that. He flicked one of his large rounded ears as he stopped himself at the border of the typhoon, his eyes glancing around looking for any morning patrol. He probably could have waited further into the day to try and talk to Argus as he had a couple questions he wanted to ask. The assassin knew it was dangerous with him being here if Jacob wasn't around as he still seemed to like the group for whatever reason. He was on alert the entire time that he was there, and he had been awake all night so his anxiety had been building up the entire time. While Killua was there though, the wildcat was able to catch a scent that was on the wind. A confused look spread across his facial features for a couple seconds as the scent took a couple seconds to register in his mind. The smell of blood. But it wasn't just the smell of blood that he was smelling right now, as it was also the scent that was Argus on the wind. What was the hell going on? Killua looked around while he stood on the border, and his shortened tail lashed behind him when he didn't spot anyone. He couldn't give two shits if he got into trouble for doing this, as he wasn't about to let anyone die while he was around. Even if he didn't trust Argus completely, she didn't deserve to die if she was in any bad condition. The wildcat didn't seem to hesitate as he ran over the border in the direction that the smell was coming from. It didn't take Killua very long to come to a skidding halt in front of the white canine. In this regard, their pelts were practically matching. Except the wolf's pelt was starting to become stained with blood. The smell of iron stinging his nose like it usually did, and a shocked look spread across his facial features as he stood at least five feet away from the canine. His shoulder and his torso were still wrapped with bandages, but now his paws were no longer the pink hue they had been when they last talked. "Argus? The hell happened to you?" A small bit of concern was laced in his voice, but he wasn't sure what kind of state of mind she was in right now. When they first met, Killua had figured out that she was unstable when it came to certain things. He wasn't going to risk his life getting close to her if she was just going to lash out at him. His sapphire blue eyes were calculative as he assessed her wound around her throat and her shoulder. The shoulder wound didn't seem all that extensive from where he was looking, but it was obviously some symbol. It was hard to see with the low lighting. He doubted he would be able to figure out what it meant. Killua obviously expected her to answer his questions, his metal claws having been unsheathed to help him when he had been running. The Snowbound deputy was being cautious, as that was his mind was telling him to do. The emotion that he always felt when he was around Argus. Fear. But right now, there didn't seem to be any warning signals that said he was going to run away from her. He could help her, but would she let him? She could just walk around him and there would be nothing he could do to stop her unless he wanted to use force. Which was the last thing he wanted to do right now.
One could say that Killua grew up getting everything that he could ever want. They had butlers. He had all the different kinds of food that he wanted. The butlers would give him anything that he desired as long as it was realistic. He was allowed to treat the butlers however he wanted and not care about what happened to them based on their actions. Killua had no reason to care about the butlers at first, because they were just doing their job and he was doing his own and nothing else. But, with all great things there comes a catch. If Killua only mentioned the good thing that his family had given him, it would have been a very limited list. They would immediately think that he didn't live a lavish life and instead lived a life of nothing but abuse and cruelty. Considering all Killua knew at the time was the abuse and cruelty, he didn't know that there was a better life out there when it came to the clans. Compared to clan life, his life had been something that was extremely difficult to live through, while some of the clans had a lavish life based of where they lived and how their own opinions made it themselves. Some of the clans did have to deal with war all of the time, but they didn't have to fear to die in battle due to the factor that other clans rarely killed one another. Which had astonished Killua when he had first learned of that at all. Killing had become second nature to him, and it fit his name all too well. Children themselves were particularly easy to try and brainwash because they would always have trust in their parents. If they didn't, then the parents had already done something to make that trust disappear from their own child. Which could prove to be horrible for the child as they would be more than likely to try and get away from their own parents. His parents had done the right thing though and gave Killua basically anything that he wanted. Almost making him turn into a brat because he was the one that was almost treated like royalty compared to the rest of his siblings as he was going to be the heir to the family name and the family business. A business that no one in the world should ever try to stick their noses in. They treated him with kindness and even played games with him once his eyes had opened and he was ready to start exploring like any sort of kid that existed in this world. During this portion of his life, this had been the only time his parents had ever really been nice and kind to him. It was when he was old enough to survive the trauma that they were going to put him through that the kindness and the safety seemed to disappear immediately. He rarely ever saw his parents after that, as they were all doing their own jobs with the family business and had jobs to go out on. Sometimes it would be a month before he ever saw his father again, and they rarely talked unless it was about how his progress was going when it came to his training. His parents never even explained to him what they were and how dangerous they were for the rest of the world. It had to be the oldest sibling of the family to have to tell and explain to him about everything. Training and working as an animal was common knowledge as it meant that they would be able to survive.
At a young age, his training had played into his instincts, and that meant the instinct to hunt and kill. His older brother knew about this all too well, and that's how his training had started. He was ordered to simply try to kill a mouse, and if he didn't he would then be punished. He had no idea what pain had been at the time until a whip came across his back close to his spine. His eyes sprung with tears as he immediately tried to get away from his brother. Who had regarded him with a cold look and told him to continue despite the bleeding wound. At such a small size there was only so much the serval could take before he would ultimately die of blood loss. His family had done research on the species and had made sure that they would stick with that species for the time being as it would give Killua an advantage in being such a small body. His parents having planned practically everything before he was even born when they had shifted into those bodies. The clanners weren't the only ones that were capable of powers, and when his family realized that he had been born with powers, they had an idea that he was going to end up being a prodigy. Killua was a quick learner, such as anyone around that age always was as kittens and young cubs were used to absorbing information almost like a sponge in that regard. He was taught how to kill very quickly, and loners were brought into the mansion where they lived, chained in the dungeon where they were going to be used as a dummy for Killua to test his skills on. Killua remembered their screams that echoed in the room that he had been in as he used his claws as a utensil to carve into the victim's flesh. There was nothing they could do as his older brother was always there to make sure that Killua was safe and that he was going to be okay. Killua hadn't been sure what to think of Illumi when he was younger. He would be the one that would always hurt him, but he would always be the one to patch up his wounds after the deed had been done. This made Killua think that the tiger actually cared about his well being and knew that he was doing because he thought it was for the best. Killua had no idea that his older brother planned on completely controlling and manipulating him once he was old enough. This was because the other wasn't going to be the heir despite being the oldest in the family other than their parents. So, if he couldn't control the affairs of the family, he might as well control the creature that was bound to control the affairs of the family in the future. That had been his older brother's plan from the very beginning, and a plan that Killua still didn't know about. He wasn't even sure if Illumi had followed his father's orders, probably making up his own orders and telling Killua that it would all end in due time. Illumi had taught Killua how to feel joy in inflicting pain on others and not feeling guilty about it. Why should he? The rest of his siblings were doing the exact same training and the exact same methods like he was. So he wasn't alone in that regard, but this didn't make what he was doing right. Killua had only felt enjoyment for a couple months before the methods grew all the same and the same with the reactions that were directed toward him. Screaming. Begging for their lives. They were all the same. Now, if someone gave him an interesting reaction, he would probably feel some form of excitement. At this point, he had grown numb to everything. Numb to where he didn't want to do anything anymore and just wanted to get away. He wanted to explore the world and have fun, even if he knew that he would be alone in this world for quite a while.
Killua wasn't sure if he should trust Argus at all. The white wolf had kept herself mysterious since the last time that they had interacted on the Typhoon border. Considering what had happened with Snowbound and the Typhoon, the assassin didn't think that they should deal with the other group at all. Yet, Jacob constantly talks about having an alliance with the group even if he had been the one that was captured by them. Killua didn't buy it, because the Typhoon tried to make themselves look like the good guys when they had let Jacob stay long enough that he was healthy to go back to the group. If they had delivered him while he was still injured, then no matter what they said wouldn't have been enough to convince the rest of the clan that they were the good guys in this situation. The young male didn't rust the Typhoon in the slightest, especially since Argus was there. He kind of figured what kind of creatures lived in the Typhoon, at least by their personalities from the ones that he had met. The albino serval wasn't a huge fan of them, especially Guru. The caracal a lot weaker than he was, and what he would give to be able to slice her throat open just to show her exactly how outmatched she was. The punishment that Pincher had given the female wasn't even really considered a punishment. The punishments that his own family had given him for speaking out or not completely a task perfect were more threatening than just having an ear cut off. Now, if he had one of his ears cut off it would become detrimental to him as servals had amazing hearing thanks to their large ears. If one of his ears were cut off all the way to his skull, he would be at a disadvantage. Killua had told himself either way that he wasn't going to go back to the Typhoon, and simply just wait for Argus to talk to him. The other had opted to help him with the voice that was in his head and had actually finally told him her name since the last time that they had interacted with one another. Killua wasn't sure if he should completely trust her at the moment, which he was going to stick with. He had opted not to trust anyone that he encountered unless he knew more about them. Right now though, Killua didn't have a choice as the older female had a chance to actually get the voice out of his head and potentially help him. If it exploded in his face, that was his own fault and he was willing to face the consequences. But was Argus? The other was bound to get the wrath of the Zoldyck family if she wasn't careful enough with her actions. The Zoldyck's had some way of finding him eventually, and he could eventually see them going after Argus if she got too close to him. Killua didn't trust anyone in the Typhoon, and yet here he was. The assassin had been paranoid about the time that they last talked to each other, which had been the last time that the Typhoon had made an appearance on the Snowbound border. Some creatures knew now that he was from Snowbound while other's did, so he kept his air elementals up just in case he got into trouble with someone. He wasn't here to start a fight, as he was too exhausted to really care if he got yelled at by others. Killua hadn't slept since Argus had talked to him and offered her assistance toward him. Too afraid of what the night terrors could end up bringing, and too afraid to let other's hear him in such a state. He lived away from camp, but there were plenty of animals that were walking around at night.
The albino serval walked along the old railroad tracks that lead to the main gate of the territory of the Typhoon. His stark white fur obvious against the backdrop of the ocean. An ocean that he had no intention of jumping into any time soon. He would rather roll around in some snow than just that. He flicked one of his large rounded ears as he stopped himself at the border of the typhoon, his eyes glancing around looking for any morning patrol. He probably could have waited further into the day to try and talk to Argus as he had a couple questions he wanted to ask. The assassin knew it was dangerous with him being here if Jacob wasn't around as he still seemed to like the group for whatever reason. He was on alert the entire time that he was there, and he had been awake all night so his anxiety had been building up the entire time. While Killua was there though, the wildcat was able to catch a scent that was on the wind. A confused look spread across his facial features for a couple seconds as the scent took a couple seconds to register in his mind. The smell of blood. But it wasn't just the smell of blood that he was smelling right now, as it was also the scent that was Argus on the wind. What was the hell going on? Killua looked around while he stood on the border, and his shortened tail lashed behind him when he didn't spot anyone. He couldn't give two shits if he got into trouble for doing this, as he wasn't about to let anyone die while he was around. Even if he didn't trust Argus completely, she didn't deserve to die if she was in any bad condition. The wildcat didn't seem to hesitate as he ran over the border in the direction that the smell was coming from. It didn't take Killua very long to come to a skidding halt in front of the white canine. In this regard, their pelts were practically matching. Except the wolf's pelt was starting to become stained with blood. The smell of iron stinging his nose like it usually did, and a shocked look spread across his facial features as he stood at least five feet away from the canine. His shoulder and his torso were still wrapped with bandages, but now his paws were no longer the pink hue they had been when they last talked. "Argus? The hell happened to you?" A small bit of concern was laced in his voice, but he wasn't sure what kind of state of mind she was in right now. When they first met, Killua had figured out that she was unstable when it came to certain things. He wasn't going to risk his life getting close to her if she was just going to lash out at him. His sapphire blue eyes were calculative as he assessed her wound around her throat and her shoulder. The shoulder wound didn't seem all that extensive from where he was looking, but it was obviously some symbol. It was hard to see with the low lighting. He doubted he would be able to figure out what it meant. Killua obviously expected her to answer his questions, his metal claws having been unsheathed to help him when he had been running. The Snowbound deputy was being cautious, as that was his mind was telling him to do. The emotion that he always felt when he was around Argus. Fear. But right now, there didn't seem to be any warning signals that said he was going to run away from her. He could help her, but would she let him? She could just walk around him and there would be nothing he could do to stop her unless he wanted to use force. Which was the last thing he wanted to do right now.
snowbound -- snowseeker -- male -- 8 moons
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Tags | Updated 03/26/17:
Re: Blood on my name;; o, development - Luciferr - 04-28-2018
track for now, :0