REQUIEM | open + joining

[drachen]

[align=center][div style="borderwidth; width: 350px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9pt;"] The arid air of the desert was something the German had forced himself to get used to within the past day or two, already missing the cold, snowy climate of Germany. The blond wasn’t particularly interested in living in a stifling hot by day then colder than a yeti’s ballsack by night type of location, but. . . It was. . . An ideal place to hide out from the other groaning, volatile mafia bosses constantly crawling up his ass. Wolfram had a gut instinct that they wouldn’t assume him to come here of all place– not saying the lot of them were idiots, but in a way he was insinuating it. Hey, they had all the insults coming at them. First, they disrespected his home, then his best friend and brother by choice, and finally, him. It wouldn’t have been too much of a deal if they made nasty, cruel comments at him. Now, his home? It’s a low blow. Making snide remarks and threatening glares at the one he cared most about? Not on his watch.

And then there was bloodshed. Lots of it.

While Wolfram wasn’t the squeamish type, it didn’t mean he was on board with slaughtering many, many individuals. If only they left him in peace then he wouldn’t have retaliated. If they didn’t stick their noses in his business and riled him up. If only they didn’t go after. . . At the end of the day, they won, he lost, and now he was on their hit list. The lonesome days without his best friend was difficult yet pushed on, knowing he would want Wolf to go on and forget about them. Get a better life. Do something good. . . . He didn’t have the heart to forgive, forget, and move on. The German clutched his anger, grief, and pain with a tight grip, refusing to let go. No, he wanted revenge. The best way to get back was a plan. Not half assed or see-where-it-goes. A fully calculated, thought out plan to get finally wipe them off of this plan.

Cold blue eyes squinted as the morning rays appeared over the horizon, the chill of the night slowly fading away as the Australian kelpie trudged through the ever shifting sands, having catch wind of some group named the Pitt living here. In his opinion, the name was stupid and needed some work, but it wasn’t like some stranger’s view on the name mattered much. Pointed ears twitched as the scarred canine kept a steady pace as keen eyes spotted something in the distance. Lips twitched and nostrils flared as he released a long exhale followed by a dragged out inhale. Yep. Nothing like the smell of piss to mark the border in the morning. It’s great. Lovely.

( Sometimes he wonders when this life of being an animal will end and if he’ll ever be human again. )

"Hallo? Ich heibe Wolfram." Gruff and low was the tone of voice, neither excited nor disappointed– for now.

[Felibri]

[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 70%; min-height: 9px; line-height:115%; text-align: justify; padding: 10px"]”Just your name? Care to explain why you are here?” The voice came from a lightly Russian-accented lion-sized black wolf. Rozovsky’s ears pricked up as he studied the stranger before him. German. Just like his spirit comrade Kemmerich. Rozovsky didn’t think that perhaps Wolfram could understand English. Either way, he could just get Kemmerich to help him with his German. In his past life, Rozovsky could speak conversational German — that was why he understood what Wolfram was saying.

Poor, poor Kemmerich. Rozovsky could feel the other spirit grow restless with the desire to take control and shift into his own form. Rozovsky understood that finding a German animal in this sort of world was a bit like finding a needle in a haystack, so of course Kemmerich would be desperate to gain control ... but Rozovsky was intrigued by the stranger at the borders. He was taking it upon himself to be the Pitt’s welcoming commitee, since the attendance here seemed as barren as the terrain they lived in. No matter. Rozovsky was either hunting or sleeping. Making new friends, or enemies, was a favorite pastime.

[; albion]

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BENNY G.

benny knew about fuck-all on german. the best he could do was some broken latin from scripture, but then even his english wasn't the best at times when his accent bore down. the fox had no clue what wolfram had said, though he trusted sirius wasn't a liar and assumed he spoke his name.

wolfram. it was cute.

"do y'speak any english, bucko?" he inquired with a short tilt of his head. it'd make things much easier on his part.

© LEXASPERATED

[guts]

[align=center][div style="width: 51%; text-align: justify; font-size: 10pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: georgia;"]She had no knowledge of any other languages--hell, even her English had it's limits. Sometimes she heard other people speak in tongues she didn't understand, but that was back in the day, before she came to the Pitt. At one point she would have been intrigued, but now at hearing someone speaking something in another language, she felt a knot in her stomach. She could only associate it with bad things, the things they had done to her.

The serval still finds herself trotting over, though, hoping he knew English. How would anyone else but Rozovsky communicate with him? What if he was plotting something right under their noses, and they couldn't figure it out? Maybe she was just paranoid, stuck in the past, but there were too many possibilities for her to simply not think about it. She stands close to Benny, taking comfort in his presence and trying to focus on it instead.

[Stryker]

[align=center][div style="width: 60%; text-align: justify; font-size: 11pt; font-family: georgia;"]☣ — Stryker had little knowledge of the language presented by the stranger, but knew a name when one was said... unless he was wrong. The lion was intelligent, but not intelligent enough to necessarily care. Nevertheless, he approached with his eyes peeled. Wolfram was of interest to him. Unlike Esklav, he was looking for strong joiners and not more slaves to take up space. The Australian Kelpie, in his opinion, would make a delightful member to their group.

"Hopefully," the lion mocked towards Benny. "Or else we're all going to have a hard time giving this one orders." Little did he know, Rozosky was someone who understood German. Perhaps that'd be useful in the future.