｢ become fierce or savage / joining ｣

[TYDEUS]

[align=center][div style="max-width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 1.4;letter-spacing:.1px"]/ rushed but he's literally just standing somewhere with blood all over him, you don't have to match this or anything

His ears are still ringing. The world around him seems to flow forward as he stands still, nothing quite touching his skin. Grass under his paws and wind in his fur just wrap around his head and float away again — there's a glassy look in peach-colored eyes and drying blood on the side of the lion's face, a deep maroon against the softly interlocking pink and cream of his fur. It pulls and then stings when he tries to move the ear that it drips from, a wince finally breaking his empty expression. He remembers to move his legs, though they're jello. More red dries down those, and he winces as the grass brushes across open wounds. Though the ringing continues, feeling gradually returns to the lion, and with that comes a sense of place. He doesn't know where he was, but it's clean — cleaner than he's used to, at least.

The last few months had changed everything for him. What little fight had remained in him, surviving as a small voice protesting Bonesaw's ownership of him, had died. Quietly, subtly. He had been no stranger to abusive situations long before the other lion put a collar around his throat; he knew how to say no, to maintain his own worth. But Bones... Bones had made his head spin. Up was down and left and right — anything except what it should be. So even now, with distance between himself and the other lion, the thoughts that slowly flood back to Tyd's mind revolve around him. For someone who had spent what felt like a lifetime struggling, he fell into this a little too easily. He turns in a circle at the edge of this grassy forest with eyes too wide again. Searching for something. Someone. Broad black shoulders and the sun glinting off of golden spots, red paint in winter-dead grass.

Everyone had always been right to call him a toy. Somewhere in the fight, his spiked collar had been pulled tight around his throat until a raw, red line wrapped around him. But it didn't break, and he didn't pull it off later. His first thought goes to someone else.

[PIERCE]

☁ Pierce had just recently started to become more active around this place, and while he didn't really have much authority over anything, nor did he really know what he was doing, he'd been doing his best to play his part in this new community. As in any other group, patrols were pretty standard for every member, to go greet strangers within and at the borders. Given his experience in clans - he'd lived in about three or four different ones in the past two years -, it didn't feel too unnatural to jump into action when it came to normal clan things, like patrols, clan organization, raid planning, and the like. After all, one didn't leave their position as vice-leader of the same clan for over a year with no experience in any fields among the clan.

However, despite his experience with clanlife and the drama and violence that came with it, gore still made him sick to his stomach. Not in the oh-that's-so-gross sense, but rather in relation to his own personal experiences with violence in his own life and among his family's lives. He'd seen so many slaughtered and tortured that by now he almost expected it whenever met with the familiar, metallic stench of blood.

It was just that smell that had met his nose when he paused on his little journey around the Ascendants' territory, his stomach churning slightly as he raised his head, amber gaze sweeping over the grassy hills and soon coming to rest on the bloodied form of Tydeus. "Oh god, oh god," the serval mumbled to himself, hurrying in the direction of the other wildcat. "Are you- are you okay, mister? Can I help you?" Despite the nausea that was overwhelming him now, Pierce tried to focus on the subject at hand, which was helping clean this guy up. He was certainly no medic, but he'd had family that specialized in medicine and along with his personal history with hurting himself, he did know a few things- though, they were mostly "make sure injuries are clean" and "bandage wounds to protect from infection", so basically common knowledge.

Pierce fumbled with his satchel, knowing he had to have some sort of towel or bandage in there somewhere. In the meantime, he spoke, "I'm Pierce. Can you tell me what happened to you, sir?"

"speech"

[sybil.]

[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 55%; min-height: 9px; font-family:; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; padding: 20px"]The metallic tang of blood wafted towards the panther, ripping her from the endless torrent of thoughts and whispers that flooded her ears. Blood was never a good sign, and despite feeling little loyalty towards this place, the warning signs of death and destruction allowed for a primordial fear to spark inside of her. Though no signs of distress appeared on her sharp features, she was inwardly nervous. Sybil could hold her own in battle, but bloodied scenes were never fun to stumble upon.

It took mere heartbeats for the wildcat to reach Tydeus and Pierce. Even against the obsidian of Tydeus' pelt, Sybil could make out the tell-tale signs of a struggle. Deep, dried crimson stained his pristine coat and the wounds on his legs were slick with blood. Instinctively, her lip curls back in disgust. It was a gruesome sight to behold, yet she stood her ground.

She allowed Pierce to speak on behalf of the both of them. Sybil did move forward, however: a silent offering of her services should it be needed by either of them.

[TYDEUS]

[align=center][div style="max-width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 1.4;letter-spacing:.1px"]Life experience — now that was something Tydeus sorely lacked. Or perhaps he simply didn't have the correct experiences. Violence was common, and he had learned not to be afraid of it. Of death, maybe, but not of anything that came before it. Teeth buried in his skin became an intimate thing, and pressure on bruises made his heart race. It wasn't that he enjoyed it, life just... had a way of crossing his wires, he supposed. If that was how his life would be, he would learn to enjoy it. So with time, in a way, he became as bad as anyone else that had fucked him over. Blood and gore didn't scare him off. Every other slave that ended up dead gave him a sense of sick relief: it's not me. Bones choosing to kill all of his friends instead of him: it's not me. He had never been a leader, he'd barely even been a friend, but he'd survived, and since survival and blood were so intricately knotted together with him, he wasn't afraid.

The only thing he knows about this particular pain is that it's confusing. He can see the strangers approaching perfectly well, though his mind seems reluctant to acknowledge it. There's no sound. The lion's head tilts until it's uncomfortable and he swallows thickly, missing everything that Pierce says. Peach eyes flicker between him and the next person, who blessedly does not move their mouth. Still, his ears flatten despite the pain at her expression. Disgust. Some irrational part of him puts the blame on his own shoulders, his appearance, just — something, anything. He's afraid of what she could possibly be thinking. Nothing seemed positive, to say the least. He found himself craving apathy the way he had once craved affection. All he needed was for people to ignore him, to look away. They so rarely did these days.

"What?" Even his own voice can only be heard in the vibrations of his throat and that scares him too. One paw lifts first to his collar and then to his ear, brushing across the area. It throbs and aches; he drops his paw back down. He'll spend days washing blood out from the pale fur, but that thought doesn't reach him now. "I can't — hear you."

[ATBASH CIPHER.]

ATBASH CIPHER

somebody make me alive,
and shatter me !

It had been so long since Atbash had only been a semi-high position in a clan, though quite honestly the she-cat wasn't complaining too much. Leading was stressful and she was somewhat glad to be relieved of that duty. However, since she was a Starstruck Guardian, she was expected to be some sort of welcoming committee. That being said, if somebody was injured, she was supposed to find somebody with medical knowledge. Atbash followed the scent of blood, her one eye wide with worry as she tried to reach the scene as quickly as possible. The former Hailcaller blinked at Tydeus (whose name she didn't know of course) in surprise, surveying his body as much as she could. "Bring him to camp," Atbash said to Pierce and Sybil. She said this with an air of authority and urgency in her voice, though that was mostly due to her not being used to having that much authority over others.

Telepathically, however, Atbash tried to reach out to TYDEUS. "We're apart of a group called The Ascendants." She said, assuming she was able to get into Tydeus's mind to be able to talk to him. "We're going to help you. Try to stay conscious, okay?"

bio | female | starstruck guardian [shp] of the ascendants

© madi

[TYDEUS]

[align=center][div style="max-width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 1.4;letter-spacing:.1px"]For everything that he had seen in his life, powers, so far, have not really been one of them. His actions are his own, and the people around him typically relied on the same. Bones had a certain brutal honesty with everything he did. No powers, just his own brain and brawn. His parents had been the same way. So when a voice sounds in his head, clear and calm despite the ringing in his ears, the lion can't help but recoil. The small (for a lion, at least) wildcat almost falls back on his haunches, one bloodied paw raised above the ground. His long tail flicks behind him, the tuft just visible. Though his body is tensed, each part of him prepared to run or to fight as necessary, the language of it is more frightened than anything else. Soft eyes are as wide as saucers and his fur fluffs up — he has no mane to shake out to make himself bigger and nothing to protect his soft throat, so instead his head ducks slightly. "How did you do that?" Sound doesn't come back to him and he wonders if he slurs his words. His tongue feels heavy.

After a moment, his heart stops racing and Tydeus lowers his paw again. It shakes on the way down but he steadies himself, ignoring the pulsing pain and slow, slow dizziness making his head spin. The details of the fight escape him now — the only thing he remembers is its start — but he must have gotten hit pretty hard for that. The wound is fresh but already a deep red is beginning to blossom underneath his fur around the side of his face, the same side where blood drips from his ear. It was mostly impact, he thinks. But the others — thin lines around his legs from some sort of trap, deep lines scored into one shoulder, the sting of a bite on the back of his neck — those tell a much different story, one that troubles him. With that, his mind wanders back to Bones. He would show up eventually, he'd — he would be alright.

"'M okay," the lion adds on, and this time he knows he slurs. "I can go where you need me to."

/ less rushed, so better description of injuries: has a concussion due to blunt force trauma to the left side of his head. that ear has a ruptured eardrum and it's bleeding. he has thin cuts about halfway up his front legs that are about level with each other, a few general scratches on his sides, and a deep bite mark at the back of his neck from a wildcat around his size.

[ATBASH CIPHER.]

ATBASH CIPHER

somebody make me alive,
and shatter me !

Things were definitely off, with the way things were life inside Tydeus's mind. Atbash couldn't feel his emotions very well, almost as if they were static or hidden away. Atbash pulled out of the lion's mind as he responded to her, though that was partially due to her being alarmed over him falling back. Quickly, the she-cat went to his side and tried reaching into his mind again, "Telepathy." She answered his first question. "Try leaning on to me as much as possible." Tydeus was much larger than him, but perhaps having some help from either Pierce or Sybil would make things easier.

Out loud, Atbash called out to her clanmates. "Pierce, can you help me lead him to camp?" She asked before looking over at Sybil. "Go find Radeken if you can." She instructed, hoping that Sybil knew who the Cleric was.

bio | female | starstruck guardian [shp] of the ascendants

© madi