i'll take my sanity ;; private

[cavalrychoir]

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[div style="background-color:;border:;width:100px;overflowtretch;font-size:8.5pt;color:darkred;text-align:left;text-transform:uppercase;font-family:trebuchet ms;margin-bottom:-10px;margin-left:5px;float:left;"]CAVALRYCHOIR—

Cav wasn't particularly fond of what he did. Bloodshot eyes remained emotionless and glazed over as they focused on the horizon line. Every now and then, his vision would blur and he'd lose his footing, stumbling but never falling. It could be taken as a metaphor, he suppose: tripping over himself but never falling could symbolize his durability. He's able to take many hits before teetering. His blurred eyesight could mean he isn't sure of where he's going anymore, but dark red eyes focused on what was before him - the horizon. Although the male wasn't fond of what he did, he didn't regret doing it. Rather, he was impressed with himself that he managed to pull it off all by his lonesome. Well, he did have some help though he did most of the dirty work. Literally. It took him hours to get the blood from his fur and out of his eyes and mouth. He began to grow concerned if it would ever come out. He didn't want to be reminded of the crime he committed. Crime? Is it a crime to end the lives of murders and psychopaths? They would have done more damage should they be allowed to live, right? The fear of becoming one of them tugged on his conscious from when he was young and he wasn't sure whether he proved them right or wrong by killing them. Does that make him the Hero or the Villain? Why was he so bothered by this? Taking another's life doesn't bother him. If they pose a threat to his own survival then it was instincts to get rid of them. Why was he so attached to these individuals? Because they raised him? That wasn't a good enough reason to justify their actions. Because they made him feel at home? Home is anywhere you make it. These irrational thoughts festered in his mind until he felt numb. That's how he felt: numb.

Purposeless.

Where was he going? When was the last time he ate? He guess those questions were pointless considering he was free to go where ever he chooses and he no longer needed sustenance to survive. He felt as though that would get boring quickly - the 'no longer needing to eat to survive' part. Handy, yes, but a drag nonetheless. It seemed as though food was the only thing he could look forward to in this worthless life of his, but even that managed to slip from his grasp. The only thing he could control was himself and he desperately held onto that thought for stability. He had no ground to tread on without needing to look down and he couldn't bring himself to trust another. As far as he was concerned, everyone wanted him dead. Cav didn't have any troubles with killing others to survive. He's done it before on multiple occasions. Another hundred times won't hurt. Dark red luminaries were dull, reflecting the troubled thoughts that circulated his mind. Though his bulky form was tense as he's constantly on guard. In a couple hours, the sun would set. He couldn't keep walking- stumbling like this. He needed to find somewhere to rest for the time being. To collect himself. And sleep, hopefully.

[ it's super late!! i'm heckin sorry [member=218]ARGUS[/member] ]

[ARGUS]

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DOES THE BLANK STARE-
SCARE YOU MORE THAN THE FROWN?

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[div style="background-color:#BG COLOR;width:90%; overflow: stretch;text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;color: #E0EEEE;"] While Argus has never been a religious person- she knows that there are demons and gods walking along the same plane. Years of crowd watching; it became easier to pick out subtle details of an immortal like herself- the way the world's energy seems to shift around them is a different manor entirely to that of negligence. An arrogance that was always put into place, Gods and devils thinking their unavailable just because of their self=imposed abilities to heal. But there are worst things than death, oh does she know there are much worst things than death.

Idle hands are the devils business, they say. Argus is not proficient at proverbs but the wolf has had experience with this one. Knows what it's like to walk the path of blank-aimless energy. How quickly it became a desperate crawling- yearning- craving for chaos. Turning her back onto the world and hurting without reason- without restraint. She could not say that family stopped her- when she had no family back then. Only loose ties that strung together symbols of her last name. It took a while for anyone to come looking for her then. A long time for someone to even bother. Yet Des was too late- Argus was too far gone then and when confronted- she turned her back on her family too.

It was like wakeing up from a dream, walking from that broken city. The blood of her paws did not stop her, the loss of killing her own sibling didn't phase her. It was a ghost coming to haunt her. She changed one master for another. Chaos for revenge. Argus- in all her life did not regret her decision for revenge. Because it gave her something else than a bloody corpse- it gave her family again.

It was only later that that life was snuffed. The memories a vacancy of reason and logic.

In all her life- blood and fire chased her. Living memories of the dead haunt her to this day. And life? Life gets darker. It goes on without anyone's say- and while animals hit dirt and stumble- the world will not bat an eye.

There are times the death god will mourn her own emotions- how easily it is to grow attached to people. An immortal with mortal values- mortal needs. companionship, hope- family. While she can sit and hope for the ability to detach herself from her ties- to look at this world the way a distant eldritch being- and be able to drift without forming ties. Without purpose-fueled by petty desires.

emotions made everything so much more complicated

No one is ever typically fond of their actions are willing to talk about them- it's the reason why so little know about her beside fables of monsters to cull curious children. It was stupidly easily how someone could hide from their past- changing their name and appearance was enough for her. Years of hurting other's accumulating a reputation is now only referenced as a ghost of her former self. A wolf hiding an even darker wolf.

She could not say family was an answer to the worlds problems. She could not tell someone to be better and make it so. It took time- patience. But it took someone else to pull you from that cycle of hate. It still goes- it's still present within her- itching- twitching- fighting away in the recesses of her mind. But it is no longer the driving force.

It wasn't uncommon for her to be outside the territory- merely skimming the waves with her own wings- surveying movements of rouges and keeping appearances within the world While the typhoon ticked on. She did not usually stop, didn't really approach other's either. But Argus was still every bit of impulsive as she was when she was a child. She let her own wanderlust take hold of her paws until she detected the other not far up ahead. Dull crimson eyes watching the other from a short distance away. A ghost amidst the tree's

"You look lost." The wolf's voice was calm, not soothing- with the rough tinged in her voice it was coarse as if she had spent the morning yelling. When she stepped into a better lighting she made the appearance of looking nonthreatening with the giant gaping hole in her chest. Ears slightly wilted in subdued inquisition. "In a way that has nothing to do with direction" Argus always tended to speak in riddles with people she didn't know- people she wanted to know. Slightly cryptic in nature. She waited for a response. Maybe they would lash out? Or a quiet acknowledge?

[W]isker

[cavalrychoir]

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[div style="background-color:;border:;width:100px;overflowtretch;font-size:8.5pt;color:darkred;text-align:left;text-transform:uppercase;font-family:trebuchet ms;margin-bottom:-10px;margin-left:5px;float:left;"]CAVALRYCHOIR—

Cav desperately not wanted to be alone. He enjoyed solitude, but even he grew lonely after a while. He yearned for interaction with another that doesn't spark conflict. He merely wanted to speak. About what you may ask? Anything. He wanted to know how their day went. Did they sleep well the previous night? Did they have any dreams? Are they eating properly and taking care of themselves? He wanted to speak on equal terms and talk until their lids grew heavy. The setting sun or the rising moon had no say in when their conversation would end. Cav and this individual would share their thoughts on various matters and get into heated arguments only to forgive and forget later; their affections for one another too strong of a force to keep them separated. He would be grateful and respect any insight they were to give him and they would feel the same for him. Their dynamic would be built on trust and support with good communication and kindness. It all sounded like a dream, meeting someone so precious. A frightening, but welcoming dream. Of course, the lynx would have to met an individual like this first then ultimately keep them at a distance.

He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He longed for a relationship like the one previously described, but he knew he wasn't worth it. Why would he be? An individual who is kind and caring would be wasted on someone like Cav. He's a monster. He grew up covered in the blood of innocent people. The feeling of bones snapping in his mouth and under his paws were lullabies to his clouded mind. Pleas and screams were grand symphonies playing in the background of every conquest. He found his footing in dominating others; he only knew how to take control. He'd laugh as disheveled creatures crawled away from his looming form in attempt to flee. He found amusement only in battle. He didn't deserve anyone's affection. It was only recently did he realize everything he's been taught, everything he's done was wrong. Only recently did he realize how sick he really is. Only recently did he realize how hazy his view on the world is. Eat or be eaten, he was taught. Every man for themselves, they shouted. They will bow at our feet, they chanted. I will be the sword and shield. They will tremble before my might, he thought to himself, a small smile parting his lips as he gazed over the tattered and torn, newly claimed land. The thought of what he has done, what he has become make him sick to his stomach. Everything that his family- no. He no loner wished to call them his family. His tribe, his mother and father... Uncle and siblings too- they're no longer important. Their relevance to him faded along with the life from their eyes. Their perverted, distorted teachings will die with them. Locking it away in his heart, Cav decided to try and start over. He has no intentions of forgetting what he's done nor does he wish for forgiveness. He doesn't deserve forgiveness. Being forgiven doesn't right the wrongs- it doesn't bring those who died back to life. He didn't deserve anything.

He didn't deserve to be alive.

The teachings of his tribe still lived on within him rendering him unable to bond with others. He was fearful of treating them horribly as he was taught to. As long as he roamed, his tribe still remains.

As much as the thought hurt him, Cav knew he needed to prove them wrong. That their teaching may make his life harder, but it isn't going to dictate what he does and doesn't do. He will never be free, he knew that much. But he needed to start somewhere.

His cloudy vision and distracted thoughts rendered him vulnerable to attackers. They'd manage to get the first hit, but they better aim well. The first strike would need to immobilize, knock him unconscious or kill him because once he snaps out of his trance, he's not going to be happy. Cav could have walked another couple hours with Argus following close behind and not realize her presence. It was only when she spoke did he jump to the side - an immediate response. Lips drawn back in a snarl and claws extended, Cav's pointed ears flattened against his skull as he lowered himself to the ground as he prepared to fight. Was he in any shape to fight? Physically, yes. Mentally, no. Dark red orbs blinked a few times in attempt to clear his vision as well as a shake of his head. Once his attention returned to the ghostly figure, he watched as she stepped into better light. A white winged wolf with red eyes and a hole in her chest. Odd. She didn't appear to be hostile nor did she sound malicious as he recollected her first words. It was clear he had overreacted but it wasn't like he could help it. He was taught everyone was an enemy. Everyone wanted him dead. Now he was busy thinking about his life up until now. He hadn't taken into consideration speaking with another this soon.

Forcing himself to relax, Cav stood upright once more though kept his claws unsheathed. He didn't know who this individual is and because of that, he was weary. Hostile or not. As she continued, the bulky feline hesitated for a moment, growing stiff before narrowing his eyes. Was he that easy to read? No, he did have a defeated expression and was aimlessly wandering about. The next question was, who is she? He remained silent for a moment, wondering how he should respond. Wondering if he should respond. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about." He replied with an edge to his voice, not enjoying how a total stranger seemed to pinpoint how he was feeling.