he has come to claim the heavens for his own / private

[madster]

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it was midnight.

the jungle was unusually silent. besides the buzzing of insects and the occasional shaking of leaves, there was nothing. there was a general sense of peace in the newly founded clan consisting of loners and outcasts.

near the edge of the border, though, told a different tale, a story of loss and ends. a young male lay encircled in a halo of a dark liquid that stained the earth and foliage around him. blood. it had gushed from his head, perhaps a fracture of the skull, but it had been hours since the injury was created, and now the once red color of the liquid had rusted into a dark brown. this indicated the passage of time in this crime scene, and the fact nobody came to help.

he laid there, limp as if life had left him long ago. through his regulated, albeit shaky, breaths, it was revealed that despite all the blood loss, the cat's life marched on. such was the miracle of life- if the body could live, it would.

and nocturne would live.

[valiisi]

[align=center]Info [color=black]| "Talkin..." | Info

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So , a smoke break with his fox friend Juno ended in the only way such an innocent endeavor could. A body. Bel cast it a glance once, paying it no mind for the first five minutes of the break. Took a moment for it to register as odd. Second time he looks back,  it's to signal to Juno clear as day there's something of interest. he lays easy on his questioning. Belial likes to play it casual. "Hey- Jyu, lookie there." The mutts head turns to cast a distasteful glance at Nocturne. Not because Nocturne did anything - just because it seemed it was either someone passed out, or something worse.

Obviously, such a thing required immediate further investigation. It was just something to do, really. Belial isn't a curious guy, he can live life damn fine with mysteries being hung an inch over his head. Bel just tends to stumble into the mystery head first due to his insaitable proclivity for doing shit - anything along the lines of productivity, really. As a loner it's force of habit. If you're not doing things, you're wasting time; falling behind schedule, which equates to missing breakfast tomorrow.

Bel doesn't waste much time getting right up into the strangers personal space. He's looking them over, and while looting may of been a moments impulse, he's not desperate enough to strip a body of whatever it's got going on for it. Cats have nine lives too, rumor has it. That means you're running the risk of some pissy feline fucking with you 8 times over. Something like that - he's seen it happen. Cats rising from the dead, back again in some other form. He hasn't seen a dog do that.

Cicero didn't do that- drugged up cat bastard probably didn't have enough brains left to even find a new body when he died.

Moral contemplation out of the way, his next revelation is that the body was in fact, still animated. As far as he's concerned, a corpse is ten times less interesting then an unconcious stranger. Ones a chore, a disturbing and day ruining one. The alternative is the possibility of an interesting story to share with the boys back home.

"Yous know medic shit right? Whats the diagnosis with this ....fuckin one, doc?" Bel , turning his head back to the Fennec fox, has essentially given "Consent" to probe. Consider him Nocturnes immediate, and unintentional carer.

BELIAL HELDIVER VASYL

©VALIISI 2018