NOW THERE'S BLOOD IN THE WATER --- joiner

[SÉAMUS]

☠ Word of mouth, there’s a snake in the garden —

Within an hour, Seamus decided he hated the desert.  He had lost his footing more than once in shifting sands, perhaps even injured one of his taloned paws - just twisted it wrong, probably - and it felt as if the sun was trying to suck the life out of him.  Wouldn't be the first to try or fail.  The unusual creature, an enfield no less, fluffed out his scarlet fur, grumble threatening to rumble out of his parched maw.  It had taken enough time and effort to follow the trail, then to actually journey across the harsh landscape... Now I'm really angry.

Yet the faerie had a plan, a scheme, a part to play, a job to do, a goal to achieve.  He did not give up easily.  His twin thought him foolishly stubborn, he liked to say determined.  It was not like the other was not equally stubborn once he set his mind to something.  He was lucky, he supposed, his twin even let him go without much of a fight.  An explanation, that was all.  I'll hear no end of it later, I'm sure.

He had taken great measure to erase a single sign of the Typhoon him.  Not a trace of the ocean scent.  Nothing.  He was just another ally-less traveler.  Loner.  He had always thought the word fit him better, although pirate truly did do him more justice.  He would always be a pirate, no matter where he went, but he was also a prince and a spy.  They better have actual shelter here.

Seamus was nearly worn out, driven only by his fierce determination and a mind to avoid dropping unconscious in direct sunlight.  That would not end well, even if someone did manage to find him.  The vulpine furrowed his brow, scanning the horizon for any sign of life.  Who the hell picks the desert as a home anyway?
[div style="text-align: right; text-transform: uppercase; text-shadow: 0px 0px 2px #009E60; font-size: 15px;"]— SÉAMUS Ó FAOLÁN ☠

#psychosocial.

[EROS]

[align=center][div style="text-align: justify; width: 55%; font-family: georgia; font-size: 11pt; letter-spacing: -1px; color: black"]Dangerous beasts that lurked within the confines of a fortress built of sandstone and metal spires. Though he supposed that any fortress in the desert would come off as terrifying. Even though he lived here and he was no longer a slave he found himself not very keen on the home they lived in. It demanded respect just as the desert they lived in and he understood that to a harsh degree. The tiger sized canine moved on slow paws as he shook out his short pelt after just having taken a swim, leaving behind sodden paw prints that began to dry just as quickly in the heat of the sun. His ears were slightly pulled up, sounds invading the audits as he listened to the sound of a heart beat. Someone was here. That much he knew and the sodden male tilted his head slightly before he came forth to spot the creature. Such a strange thing really and it caused his head to turn slightly as he examined the other form a distance. Regardless the former slave would come forward, head lowered just slightly as he gazed upon the trespassing vulpine. "Hello, sir..." Came his usual quite tone as he approached from the sands of the desert.

His body ached still from previous wounds but he was ignoring it for the time being and instead he settled down and focused on this male. Not many people came to the Pitt and those that did were usually forcibly taken here. He would know as he had done some frequently though not out of spite to harm them. They were tests, tests he had placed upon himself to see if he could and if he would be able to stand up to others. Or if his powers would actually manifest on command to help him. Though a bitterness lingered in his own form at those that were tested and how they ended up here. It was his fault but he needed to get to that end should the Pitt ever turn against him. "What brings you to the Pitt?"

[SÉAMUS]

☠ Word of mouth, there's a snake in the garden —

The vulpine raised his head, keen eyes locking onto the much larger canine, curious, calculating, accumulating information.  A massive creature, in comparison to him, but somewhat quiet.  "Dia duit," the irishman greeted in turn, thick tail swaying behind him.  What brings you to the Pitt?  Well.  Best keep the honest thoughts away.  This was a part he knew how to play.  The traveler. "Brought by lookin' for a place to stay, actually," he explained, a notched ear flicking.

"Name's Séamus," he offered, inclining his head.
[div style="text-align: right; text-transform: uppercase; text-shadow: 0px 0px 2px #009E60; font-size: 15px;"]— SÉAMUS Ó FAOLÁN ☠

#psychosocial.

[darci]

[div style="margin: 0 auto; width: 60%; font-family: georgia; font-size: 13pt; text-align: justify;"]Levi was fortunate he now dwell within the confines of the desert. It was warm here. His extremely short coat was not suited to the cold temperatures. With winter crawling closer ever passing day, he felt little of the changing season. Despite this, the desert did grow rather chilly at night. Levi already took precautions when night fell, thus he had no issues so far. The doberman slowly found himself approaching the scene, his movements slow and somewhat clunky. His body hurt and ever fiber of him was sore. Levi made sure to leave a note to himself as to not throw himself off a cliff again. The dog wished he had died so he did not have to deal with this excruciating healing process.

It was, perhaps, not a good idea to have left the safety of the camp. Despite this, he began to grow extremely irritable being cooped up all day. "Do you plan to stay or just fill your belly and hightail it elsewhere?" He narrowed his green eyes ever so slightly. Levi supposed if he was going to stay here he needed to act like one of them. "If you're here to become a productive member, then you can stay. If not, get lost."

[SÉAMUS]

☠ Word of mouth, there's a snake in the garden —

Séamus raised a wry brow, amusement glistening in his eyes. "Believe me, if I was plannin' on high tailing, I wouldn't have bothered walking through this fecking desert." Honestly.  He huffed, shaking his fur - and feathers - clear of sand.  Absently he flexed his talons.  "Acceptable?"

He envied the doberman's short coat, and frowned lightly.  He was growing impatient.  It was much to hot outside for meaningless chatter.  His intentions were clear.  "Are high tailers common 'round here?  Can't imagine given your reputation.  Maybe I've come to the wrong place."

// Mobile
[div style="text-align: right; text-transform: uppercase; text-shadow: 0px 0px 2px #009E60; font-size: 15px;"]— SÉAMUS Ó FAOLÁN ☠

#psychosocial.