I'LL BE THE SWEETEST THING TO EVER SCARE YOU. | joining

[DIRT]

cw: insects, gore & parasites.

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AND THEY'LL CARRY YOUR HEART IN THEIR TEETH.

Wild eyed and thirsty, the beast's mouth was horribly dry. Even his overactive salivary glands had long since given up, and the need for something, anything to drink, was the only thing keeping the creature moving. He'd torn into a scorpion on the way, yellowed jaws crunching into a carapace, tail torn away and twitching in the sand. Pincers clung to his lips, as his jaws crushed its prize. Dirt eventually tore them free, eating the claws as well. It had tasted horrible, worse than any corpse, but he was pleased with his fortune. He'd eaten sparingly, which at first had sounded like a great idea, as opposed to travelling on a heavy stomach, but now.... less so. He ached for rain, for moisture on his tongue. His mouth tasted of nothing but sand and grit and bone.

Orange eyes scanned the horizon, as they had for the last day. He seemed no closer to that ashy jungle in the distance, no closer to any sort of relief. And yet, he continued. The sun beat down upon his dark face and neck, relentless and unforgiving. Why he'd chosen the Pitt was beyond him, but something about the jungle beyond... something called to him. Sang that it was Home. It was a call he'd decided he shouldn't refuse, that maybe he should settle down, that maybe there was a home for him, somewhere fierce and decaying. He had long since eaten the fresh kill he had meant to bring as tribute, too hungry, too thirsty to bother. The beast had crunched its skull and sucked back the blood and viscera within, eaten the weak little bones in his own ravenous glee. The flies that buzzed around him had seemed to multiply overnight, eating away at him happily, their little ones burrowing further into his flesh.

At least someone was well fed.

Hours slowly passed as he trekked, and it was near dusk by the time he reached the border of the desert, the expanse of jungle before him. Dirt was thankful for a respite from the blazing heat, his body exhausted, and oh so heavy. He did not collapse, but oh did he wish to. His great body shook, ill with need, the only thing that kept him on his feet was the sickly smell of ash, of the forest before him raggedly sighing into the night, the echo of rising flame. He licked his lips once more, tasting the scorpion again. Nasty little thing it was.

Dirt pulled himself forward, stepping onto the cooler grass, feeling the night welcome him. The great wolf padded over to a burnt tree, leaning up against it before slowly sliding down, his body hitting the dirt with a thud. He harrumphed weakly as the air flew out of his lungs at the force of the impact, and his chin rested upon his paws. His breaths came quick and shallow, as though he simply could not get enough air into his lungs. It soon passed, his breathing becoming a hoarse wheeze, as his poor condition set in. And yet, all he could think of, was that all he had left to offer, buried deep in his neck fur, the remaining flesh twisted and nearly rotting now, was a young rabbit's ribcage, snapped away from its tender corpse.

The beast knew not of what customs lay here, but he figured, if he was going to be found near-dead at their doorstep, he may as well bring a gift.

code by spacexual

[gael]

[align=center]

♛ GAEL Ó BROIN

Gael was nothing, if not vigilant.  Consistent, the faerie circled the Pitt's perimeter, hazel eyes glinting gold in the sunlight, ever observant. 

Beneath the falling sun, the heat became more bearable.  The vulpine preferred this time, although he trotted with an almost absent-minded eagerness.  To be finished with his lone patrol, to return and check on matters within the Pitt's camp -- to check on Aine and Trygve particularly.

Dark ears perked to attention as a lone figure fell into view.  Catching none of their enemies' scents on the wind, Gael suspected the unfamiliar wolf may be a passing loner, or potential newcomer.  Coming closer, the Vicar found his brow creasing, for the canine seemed in extremely ill heath.  A new variable to consider -- the wolf may simply be seeking brief rest in the shade, not initiation into the Pitt.

Regardless, Gael came to halt, face impassive as he studied the larger canine.  "Who are you? And why have you come here?"

"ISN'T IT LOVELY?" —-- gael ó broin / faerie / vicar / lamby

[DIRT]

AND THEY'LL CARRY YOUR HEART IN THEIR TEETH.

As the cool dark seemed to sap the heat from the earth, from the sand and his fur, the beast let himself rest. Perhaps it was foolish, to cross the great desert alone, infested and murky as he was, when the sun was at its highest, when he thought he would reach the jungle in an hour. The desert had stretched ever longer as the day went on, the jungle had felt no closer, until the sun had begun to set. Dirt sighed, let himself lean back harder, the bark pressing into his skin. He felt the rough, scorched bark of the tree give against his weight, crumbling and smearing his fur with charcoal. He'd rested for some time, pretending not to hear the quiet noise of a small animal's approach, chewing and licking at the insect bites on his skin. Easing the itching. Soothing.

It finally spoke up as it stared, watching him regain his bearings. He turned his great head to look at the creature. Vulpine, and a bit larger than he'd expected. Quiet little thing. Orange eyes scanned over the fox, noticing that he seemed to hold himself with authority. Dirt was too weary at this point, to fake himself, to pretend. Thirst had long since outweighed his mindgames. He was not here to goad, or challenge.

"Dirt," He said simply. "I am a fool."

He laughed a little, weak. Raw.

"I didn't think this place was so far out."

Mirages and all. The heat had a way of playing tricks. The sun had its own games, here. Dirt turned his head, digging his nose and teeth through his neck fur, untangling and then producing what was left of the rabbit carcass, the fragile ribcage. Bits of flesh still clung to it. The bones were still oily, red. He carefully laid it at his own feet, in full view of the vulpine. A pitiful tribute from a pitiful man.

"I've heard tales of The Pitt, of blood and war, the land beyond the sand sea. I come not to see, but to be part of it. Make my blood it's own."

He stood up carefully, his legs protesting. Wanting to show this stranger, to prove something. He was not frail, just terribly unwell. Exhausted. He did not want pity, nor did he need it. What use was a melody that fell on deaf ears. What he did need, however, was something to drink.

code by spacexual

[CAESAR CIPHER.]

THERE IS NO LIFE, THERE IS NO SPARK !

CAESAR CIPHER. MALE. THE PITT. DWELLER.

The desert was a horrible place for a group to live. It had no water, save for maybe an oasis if you were lucky (which, fortunately, The Pitt lived near), it was hot and miserable. Caesar felt no need for water but alas, his mortal body did, so he had to sustain the body in order to keep it alive. But that's not why Caesar was out here; no, if he was, he was certainly looking for the wrong place, because The Pitt's oasis was in the other direction.

"You've come to the wrong place if you're looking for guts and glory." Caesar snorted as he came to stand next to Gael. "This is no longer The Pitt you've heard of." His words were the truth, no matter how hard everyone wanted to deny it. The Pitt was a shell of its former self, but by the non-existent gods, Caesar was going to make a change. He was going to make The Pitt feared once more. Shrugging, the demon decided to continue, "If you still want to join despite that, then welcome, I guess." His plans were his own, nobody needed to know what he was doing. After all, if Kydobi and Gael figured out what he was trying to do, then he was surely going to be watched.

#psychosocial.

[DIRT]

AND THEY'LL CARRY YOUR HEART IN THEIR TEETH.

Dead eyes fell upon the newcomer, a medium-sized cat with a hell of a presence. A spindly, yellow creature that slunk over, standing next to the fox. Being the largest creature in this interaction meant little to Dirt at this time, but perhaps in the future, it would mean something a little more than a passing thought. And perhaps that more would have teeth.

He hears the cat scoff, fretting about how The Pitt was no longer holding up to its former glory. Was this a point of contention between the ranks? Perhaps there was a way to twist himself into the politics here.

Foolish of this one to think, however, that he was after glory.

Dirt simply smiles, as polite as a great stinking beast can be. There is room for growth, he thinks to himself, licking his slavering chops, moisture renewed by the taste of hot rabbit's flesh between his teeth.

"Pity." He says simply, with a laugh. With humor, fetid and rotting, oh he is ever genuine, don't you see? "I have no intention of letting my journey be a waste. I am here, and willing to work, so if I am welcome... I would like to stay."

He might as well get a taste of what The Pitt had left to offer, what corpses had been left to the flies in the wake of this...change. He had a penchant, after all, for coveting what even the hungriest vulture wouldn't dare touch.

code by spacexual