shiver with a friend — joining

[aema]

[div style="margin: 0 auto; border-width:0; width: 70%; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; line-height: 1.5; font-size: 9pt;"]Secrets are like bruises, tattooed upon the skin, hidden beneath fabrics intertwined. Often their discovery trickles like a stream. Secrets are but a convoluted glitter of words - words to be stripped bare of their disguises and twisted into tales of mayhem. They were all wolves who went rabid at the thought of fresh meat. Sometimes Aema noticed the way others seemed to gaze so longingly at the flesh of those around them. Like beasts, desire intoxicates their sense of reasoning, overrides the conscience of crowned morality. Animals, they are, biting into rumors, gnashing at the seams that keeps a soul together. Aema has witnessed this enough times. There is a pack mentality that lies within vicious cycles. A person with an injured reputation was no more but a deer with broken legs, unable to run and dragging its soon-to-be corpse towards broken salvation, surrounded by the horde of wolves watching in sadism. Rumors were just like fresh meat, thrown to the masses for vultures to circle and scream before feasting. When it comes to hatred and secrets, suddenly all morality turns ebony black. Everyone looks out for themselves.

Slit pupils dilate within dim overarching light, irises seeming to twinkle with an abnormal iridescence. Her nose twitches as she moves towards the marshy undergrowth that leads into a swamp. A patterned tail coils behind her lithe shape, thin spines retracting flat against her scaly skin as the hybrid stalks in a predatory fashion. Pairs of ears rotate carefully, starving to consume the sound of a whisper, perhaps even a faint shriek. How symbolic, the demon thinks, that she moves towards a hearth of swampland - a radiating brew of ill-harbored feelings, secrets awaiting to be known. While she knows little about the characters who inhabited the territory they dubbed 'Tanglewood', she is driven by overwhelming curiosity, emotions mixed with the element of chance. Today, she awaits by the border through the twist of fate. Her eyes are merely waiting to land upon the one who will be so kind as to entertain her starving mind.

[AMUNET]

— black glinted face, freckles dance within the shadowed depths of the underbrush. A predictor who knows no lies but those told- accepted as truth. No lies detected but the ones woven from himself. The hush of the jungle was in itself a warning to a lethal whipcord of another animal. Muscles in tandem brushing, hushing, fussing quietly. The mind skitters and instincts make them scatter. His mind is filled with static, it seeps in the edges of his brain and muddles thought.

"Danger" the silence screams to him, but he breaks the silence with the crack of a chain rattled around his neck. Silent claws: but never silent the static that ament dragged with him from the pitt. Never silenced the static in the back of his mind, the danger he has always excluded but never knew how to express- now given name- given sound. It rattles in the back of his mind, it pulls at his throat and chafes him raw. But it is an armor as much as a nuisance, and right now- the feathered omega needs a security that he finds lacking - without pack. Without his sisters and his mother alike.

Mori is here, and the same void that drapes across his mother clouds Mori in a comfort that ament craves. But mori is patient, and ament too hesitant, they stand still for now, waiting for action from the other, Mori unwavering patine, and ament a conflict of static-rage-wraith-think-calm-panic. Ament wants that shadow to cling to him to, not danger, not death, but a soul dipped in void. A darkness that rings in the air and settles a chill in his bones. It is better than the warmth, than the too hot heat that he experienced within the pitt.

The raptor stills at the stranger that stands before his path, the predictor not inclined to disbelieve he has already been spotted despite his hidden nature. Ice blue eyes frozen at the odd creature fixated into place. Predator-like he cocks his head. Now... food or friend?

© LEXASPERATED

[Anubis.]

[align=center][div style="width: 450px; line-height: 12px; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia; font-size: 8pt;"]Had the canine been conscious of the raptor's thoughts, he'd opt for friend over food.  Simply for the intelligence in the other's eyes.  The youthful god hummed softly as he slowly crept after the larger predator.

He hovered for a second, dark eyes glinting before he spoke.  The Egyptian supposed odds were he was looking at a traveler or a would be joiner.  "Can we help you?" He feels something different about this one, perhaps for unique features, but the god of death furrows his brows subconsciously nonetheless. 

Well, he was none to judge, ironically, despite his occupation away from the mortal plane.  Therefore, he opted for a patient, polite smile, his ears perked to illustrate his complete attention.

// Mobile ^^

[Luciferr]

A Z R A Y E L

its a good thing he has so many shades and so many reapers to get to all he must given his duty - and his embodiment.

It’s always something of a surprise (but a welcome one) when he meets those that walk the similar lines if not the exact same - so it’s not really a surprise he’s never seemingly far from his fellow in duty as death, though really it’s more like he follows his littler, mortal, brother - in his own patient but worried way when it comes to the borders at least (he’s not as smothering as father is, but he knows his little brother is wounded in ways more of the soul than just the body, so he watches and keeps this vigil in his fathers stead if not for his own peace of mind also)

That being said he watches from behind the two - a ghost of a reassurance for his brother and simply a fellow patrol walker to Anubis no doubt - as they speak to the stranger.

© MADI