suburbia — joining

[MIAMIHORROR]

He’s been hungry all day — starving, in fact, though part of him thinks that maybe he’s mistaken the feeling for another.  He can feel this rumbling sensation deep down and this crawling, itching just below his skin.  Is that hunger?  He can’t tell anymore.  All Miamihorror knows is that he needs to hunt.

It’s second nature how the wolf can tell exactly what to do, regardless of the fact that these lands in particular are unfamiliar.  He’s no stranger to this feeling, and it doesn’t take him very long to stumble across a farm among the rolling plains.  Miamihorror has never bothered with being quiet or sneaky or clean; he chases down the first sheep his copper gaze lays upon and digs his claws deep into its flesh.  The male then buries his canines into its throat and tears his head back roughly without letting up, watching his prey’s pure white wool, so pristine and heavenly, turn a deep and deadly shade of red.  He feasts until he can eat no longer, and leaves the carcass sitting in the open as he departs.  Miami doesn’t clean the blood off his pelt just yet — it dries to his gray fur, covering his front like rust.  Whatever lust that had bubbled up from deep within has since quieted down, and he moves across the plains like a ghost.

Miamihorror can’t tell where he’s going or why, but he doesn’t exactly wonder about it either.  He recalls vaguely of hearing of nearby groups and yet the thought only briefly touches his mind.  He’s never been one to think any further ahead than his own paws, has he?  He’s got the scars to prove it.  The canine only lingers on the thought when his jaws, hanging slightly ajar, welcome in the a particular scent, one that hangs heavy in the air.  It’s a mix of many different things — creatures, lots of them.  They must make their home here.  He pauses where he stands, running his tongue across his lips; they still taste metallic with the tang of blood.  For a moment he mulls over his options, but his contemplations are swiftly abandoned in favor of watching the gently sloping hills before him, curiosity piqued by the signs of potential life.

The wolf had found a pack of cigarettes a few days ago — the one that now dangles precariously between his maws is the last of them, and it’s rapidly nearing it end.  He takes a long drag and lets it drop to the grasses earth below before he exhales, watching the thin puff of smoke that briefly hangs in the air until it dissipates with a gentle breeze.  Miamihorror lifts a paw to crush the still-lit butt that lays sputtering among the heath, savoring the flicker of pain its heat brings (though it lasts only for a heartbeat).  His fur is patchy and scruffy and a great deal of it still encrusted with lamb’s blood, and the smell of smoke clings to him yet.  The male rolls his shoulders and, running his tongue across his dagger-like teeth, moves forth to push deeper into the unknown.

/this is unbelievably shitty fjgnsgnfn i’m sorry i’m on mobile and i hate my phone i promise my next posts will be better

[Elon]

You spoke of roses- all I feel are thorns ・°☆ } ——— [size=10pt]TAGS

/o peeshaw this is fine

What brings Elon to the area is the faint smell of smoke. Considering her fear of fire, she should be looking to walk away from such a smell (quickly at that), but some sense of duty makes her feel obligated to go check it out. If it is fire, she would very much rather be discomforted by putting out a little one than melting in a roaring one across the territory. These plains look as if they're just begging for a spark sometimes. Yet when she turns the corner around a coupling of trees, the white domestic is clearly startled at what she sees. She feels very unfortunate then then that she's comes across something that is even more dangerous than flames at the time- at least she has a chance of running away from those. Considering she wasn't exactly quiet making her way over here, with twigs blown asunder by the wind snapping under her paws and the reeds swaying, Elon knows it's too late to turn back now (he could likely smell her too and in her opinion, she smells great). So she just clears her throat silently and lifts her head some. Holding her ground would feel much better if she had her powers again and let's just say that this wolf doesn't look not menacing while encrusted in the fluid's of a previously living creature. The tang of iron is palpable and it might make her hungry too if she weren't afraid. It's not that Elon is exactly opposed to killing, but she's not keen to be on the wrong end of it. It's a powerplay that she once had the privilege of being at the top of that she used up far too quickly. 

Still if she's going to be wiped out again, she's not going to do so without style. Is she above vicariously leeching the perpetrator's experiences in her own murder? Probably not, but it's a plan to take it like a champ, and really Elon's hoping that the bloody, larger, stronger, sharp toothed canine is totally friendly. Stranger things, right? He wouldn't be the first wolf to live in harmony here. Fronting, the feline raises her paw to pat her lips on a low yawn, but her gaze on the man is sharp though it's hard to tell with her lack of pupils. She notices just then that the wolf was huffing and puffing and says with quaint amusement, [b]"Come here just to litter?" Back in her time they had pipes and really she should have known the smell of tobacco right away since she grew up around those fields, but that was back when she'd be looking at this wolf like supper instead. "Or for something else?" She offers a quirked to the side smile and raises nonexistent brows as her tail flicks about behind her. That and her ear flicking suggests that she's nervous but her deep voice is just as calm and impartial as ever.

[Suiteheart]

SUITE
HEART

[i love miami wow]

The smell of cigarettes reached her first. Suite knew the scent by heart; she had once been a heavy smoker in her youth. That seemed like lifetimes ago now, and what once was a way to quell her trembling limbs and anxious thoughts now only left bittersweet tastes in her mouth. It had been far too many years between that time and this moment anyway, so why was her mind quietly demanding a cigarette? Hadn't she kicked those cravings to the curb?

Metallic scents found her next, and with that, she was instantly on alert. Her baby blue eyes flickered to burning amber for a brief moment, reminded of her own hunger. However, this was not feline blood. No, it smelled... different. Even so, the prospect of bloodshed on her borders was not something she was happy with. Panic ignited in her chest, and she made her way forward, trailing the new, unfamiliar scent of Miamihorror.

The Ecliptic Admiral entered the scene as soon as Elon finished speaking. The fae caught the end of Elon's words, and she arched a fictional eyebrow at the tone in the other female's voice. "Who's your new friend, Elon?" she asked, allowing a friendly lopsided grin to cross her features. She moved to stand at Elon's side before training her eyes on Miamihorror. "Name's Suiteheart."

[b]suiteheart folie-mikaelson . ecliptic admiral . the ascendants . tags

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[guts]

[align=center][div style="width: 51%; text-align: justify; font-size: 10pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: georgia;"]It was only natural that he felt somewhat threatened by anyone bigger than him, especially since he was a dog now. As a human he didn't have to worry too much, but now there was plenty to worry about. Especially with things like dinosaurs and shit being around now. One already tried to chomp his head off, and he wasn't ready to be in another situation like that, particularly without Washington around to save him. That wasn't ideal at all.

Church pads onto the scene with a concerned expression, gulping at the sight of the blood that matted the stranger's fur. Hopefully his own wouldn't be there soon. Taking in a breath, he straightens himself, trying to seem a lot less intimidated than he actually was. Since all the questions had been asked, he simply stood there, tail curled between his legs. Real convincing.

"SPEECH"

[| AGENT WASHINGTON |]

*retro to injuries*

The Freelancer refused to hunt while he was in his current form. That was because of the fact that he refused to believe that he was actually an animal, and wouldn't stoop to their level to get to that point either. He wasn't some beast that was going to accept what was given to him and make sure to go on with his life the way he wanted it to. He had nearly starved himself to death by not eating because all that was available was raw meat. The thought sickening the soldier as he was always used to having meals prepared for him, and eating raw meat as a human wasn't exactly the smartest thing to do as they had difficulty digesting the food anyway if it was raw. Not only that but it could make them increasingly sick. Washington knew that his body was going to need to eat some type of food, and he was fine with eating the dried meat that was being given to him by Imperia. The lion-sized animal probably didn't eat enough for what could be considered a full stomach, as he ate enough to just get him through the day till he finally did end up going to sleep at around 0100 hours. The soldier wasn't the type for help, and he also didn't like being around those that were in the current outpost either. The Freelancer had no reason to trust the likes of animals even if he was already part of their ranks for not really doing anything. He just so happened to pass across animals while he was on his patrol, and then he would be able to identify who they were and if they were anyone that he knew.

Washington had no issue with those that joined that were aggressive as long as they didn't try anything with the likes of him. Washington wasn't exactly the greatest fighter either, so he needed to be careful who he was going up against. His large size and armor almost basically for show right now as he couldn't use his maw to attack someone if they did attack him. Washington blinked his golden eyes that were hidden behind his helmet when he heard voices in the distance. He wasn't able to smell anything thanks to the helmet he wore as it filtered out any scents that could even get inside of the helmet. The smilodon began to make his way over as he always had to check those that were joining and what their deal was. There was always a chase that they were a former human and he could use them to his advantage to getting back to his original body. Hearing the smilodon coming wasn't all that hard thanks to the metal pieces that he wore across his body, and he stopped a little bit of a distance away from everyone else. The Freelancer's eyes looked at the wolf, and there was no way for anyone to see his facial features thanks to the armor pieces he did wear. The former human didn't say anything though as he looked at those that were around. Church was here, same with Elon and Suiteheart. He was currently the largest animal that had arrived, and there was a constant cold demeanor that leaked off of the former human. "speech"

[glow=black,2,300]— ✘ —[/glow]

Tags | Updated 06/26/18:

GENERAL:
★ AGENT WASHINGTON | WASH, WASHINGTON, DAVID | MALE
★ Heterosexual
★ 3 years | Birthday | Ages realistically
★ Ascendants |  Regular member | Freelancer, Former Human

IMPORTANT FACTS:
★ Agent Washington always wears his armor and never takes it off. Which means no one knows what his face actually looks like.
★ He hates being called any sort of nickname, preferring for his full name to be used when addressing him. He will constantly state so, as its just how he's used to being talked to.
★ Agent Washington suffers from insomnia and auditory/visual hallucinations. 
★ The armor that he wears is extremely tough, there are some spaces in between the armor, but if someone were to hit his armor it would not break.
★ Due to his experience when he was a human, he prefers working alone and not counting on others to help him in a bad situation.
★ Washington will not trust your character. No matter how nice they are. He will not tell them anything until getting to know them.
★ His current goal is to turn himself back into a human, as he doesn't want to be a cat forever. Because of this goal, he is less likely to offer assistance to the groups.

RECENT EVENTS (oldest-recent):
★

PHYSICAL:
★ ARMORED SLATE GREY SMILODON FATALIS [birth/main] | health: 100% | Reference.
580lbs. Agent Washington is a species of Smilodon, roughly the size of a lion. Washington is different compared to most Smilodons due to the strange coloration of his fur. That being a dark slate grey compared to the regular tawny of a simple smilodon. There are faint spots that are visible around his back legs, but only when the light hits it in a specific way. Not only that, but Agent Washington wears titanium alloy armor, making it extremely durable for taking hits and can be used as a means of bashing an enemy. The armor color itself is slightly lighter than that of his actual fur color. He wears a chest plate, that covers his chest and half of his back. Then there are shoulder plates that cover his shoulders and his arms protecting the front half of his body. There is a gap between the shoulder plate and the rest of the arm plate of his armor. His shoulder plate is a yellow, making it stand out from the slate grey armor he wears. Washington also wears a Spartan Helmet resembling that seen in the Halo series. The visor is a reflective gold and having a yellow line going down the middle of the helmet. While he wears armor, one doesn't notice the extreme amount of scars that cover his body, that has transferred from the time that he was a human. Scars ranging from those made by knives, bullets, and blunt trauma. Since his armor doesn't cover the lower half of his body (flank, and back legs), several scars can be seen uncovered in that area. Even though no one has seen his face, if someone were to see his face, his eyes are a deep gold color with blue wrapping around his pupil. The blue is a result of the trauma from a failed AI implantation when he was human. There is a scar on the back of his neck that branches out almost like a lightning bolt, and its barely visible as his helmet hides the majority of said scars. Being a Smilodon means that he has long incisors, but it seems for some reason someone had filed down his incisors, making them useless unless he can put enough force into the blow. However, since he wears his helmet, its impossible for him to use his fang to attack. Leaving his powers and paws as the only offensive means.
- major injuries: none
- minor injuries: none

PERSONALITY:
Once being immature, goofy, and charismatic, Washington was changed completely after the implantation of a computer inside of his head that nearly caused him his death. He is a soldier and hasn't been anything but a soldier in his life, making sure to follow the rules as much as possible. He believes loyalty is everything, and unless given a reason to he will not betray anyone. He is extremely serious and will work himself to exhaustion before trying to relax. Thinking that he must be prepared for everything that will be thrown at it. He prefers to be alone, but that just puts more stress on his head due to the factor that his mental stability is almost nonexistent. Washington is an expert when it comes to regular military strategies, and he almost knows nothing of the clans and how they work. In his mind, he is only on an alien planet and they potentially did something to him. He knows that he needs to get back to the project once the ship had crashed, but now he is actually in a different world. His only plan is to figure out a way to find his goal, and if that means he has to kill anyone in his way to get the information he will do just such. Washington suffers from different lapses of hallucinations and this can be easy for him to snap toward others in a violent manner. Being a soldier, if all else fails he will use violence at his full extent.

RELATIONSHIPS:
★ Single | 1/2 nothing
★ NPC x NPC | Generation 1 | No mentor

POWERS:
★ Electricity Elementals (Not Discovered)
★ Air Elementals (Not Discovered)
★ Earth Elementals (Not Discovered)
★ Fire Elementals (Not Discovered)
★ X-Ray vision (Not Discovered)
★ Teleportation (Not Discovered)

INTERACTION:
★ Message this account to plot
★ Extremely hard to befriend
★ Physically extreme | Mentally easy | Training constantly
★ Will start fights, and will finish them quickly
★ Attack in by tagging account
★ Cannot powerplay peaceful or nonviolent actions. ALL OPINIONS ARE IC

[imperia]

[align=center][div style="width: 55%; text-align: justify; font-size: 11pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: georgia;"]Tendrils of emerald grass tremble before the oncoming form of a petite wolf. Bright eyes the color of moondust peer curiously through the shivering blades, attempting to discern the situation from a cautious distance. Smoke hangs in the air, although it does not originate from an open flame. No, it carries with it the stench of acrid chemicals. A cigarette. It is this smell which lured the argentine huntress here. Although it is quite horrid to breathe in, Imperia cannot help but investigate. Calloused paws make nary a sound as the delicate she-wolf creeps ever closer, slender frame lowered close to the ground so not to draw too much attention to herself. As she draws near enough to identify the forms of Suiteheart, Caboose, Elon, Washington, and a stranger, another smell begins tickling her nose. Not that of the lush plains or the rich soil underfoot. Not the distant aroma of rains or salt on the air as is blows in from the sea. It's is blood. Her mouth begins to water against her will, appealing to her most primal of senses.

Unable to resist the urge to investigate any longer, Peri emerges from the cover of the plains, stepping quietly beside the hulking figure of Agent Washington. It is a defensive reflex. This stranger--this blood-stained stranger who smells of cigarettes--is quite the intimidating creature. Those eyes and that smell...it reminds her of her father. And what a horrible creature Pierre is. Imperia cannot help the instinct to hover near someone she respects, someone strong. Unlike the grass, the young female does not tremble; but there is fear in her heart. Fear that is only overcome by her genuine desire to get along with others. A gentle smile graces her lovely visage in an attempt to remain friendly. Tension and distrust hang heavy in the air, causing the meek creature to stir. She shifts her weight, glancing upwards at Wash's helmet. She can see her distorted reflection gazing back at her--it is not nearly as comforting as she would have hoped.

[rhosmari]

[align=center][div style="0px; width:450px; height:auto; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt; line-height:13px; color:black;"]A tang filled the air and caused the amur leoaprd to come to a pause. Her heard lifted up and she pulled in a breath through slightly parted jaws before a cringe overtook her facial features and she had to shake her head a little bit. Ew. "Who'd be smoking around here anyway?" Her question was filled with disdain and a slight marring of disgust but she can't fault someone for their addictions. Or could she? Perhaps if they became obsessions then she would have a reason to do so or if it harmed the likes of other creatures then yes. Her head craned to the side as audits twitched upon her dark red fur as she turned her head in the direction she had smelled the mixture of acrid chemicals before she decided to actively move in that direction. For a moment she became lost in her own thoughts not too worried about what she may find when she arrived at the scene because why should she be? She was trained to handle any situation that was thrown at her and she wasn't the type to back down from a challenge knowing she could easily win it.

But her eyes snapped to the stranger and she could easily pick the blood from his pelt. Though the fact that it smelled of some type of herbivore made a small smirk pull across her muzzle. It was ironic, like the stories of the big bad wolf coming to kill and she saw the humor in it really. At least something was humorous around her and maybe she was just having a hard time seeing it or connecting with anyone. Typical for a soldier. Her paws stepped forward, thick and long black claws digging in to the ground as she made her way over to the area, eyes scanning the faces of those she actually knew. The first she noticed being Washington only because of his size but there were other faces here as well Suiteheart, Church, though the other canine next to her Agent she didn't know very well. Bright yellow green eyes shifted away and she focused back more on the stranger. Now who was here and where did he come from? Only time would tell and so she planted herself closer to the male, pelt bristling just slightly.

[MIAMIHORROR]

/another shit mobile post H

He hears her before he sees her, and when he parts his maws once more he catches wind of a slightly more distinctive scent than of the group itself — a feline.  Miamihorror’s gaze follows her as she rounds the corner, watching with cool expectancy as the unfamiliar creature nears.  He’s sizing her up, his tongue running across his teeth to taste the lingering flavor of nicotine; he’s full, and felines tend to be too small to satisfy his appetite, but he regards her like he’s considering taking a bite.  Maybe it’s because he can tell she’s at least somewhat intimidated — though he’s barely proficient at reading others, the spots the anxious flicking of her tail catches his eye.  She speaks with a bit of spunk, and he quirks a brow.  “Depends — “ the wolf says in reply, baring his yellowed teeth in a forceful smile, “ — on where the hell here is.”

Another set of gentle footfalls joins them, and his attention shifts as his gaze moves to Suiteheart.  Her words garner only a flick of an ear and a sharp exhale through his nose, copper eyes resting on her mildly.  He seems completely uncompelled to respond, as the male pauses to watch the others arrive one by one, silently judging each as they come to a quiet halt.  He doesn’t particularly like how swiftly the tides have turned against his favor, especially with the biggest one in the helmet.  Then again, Miamihorror has never been one to back down from a fight, regardless of the odds; matter of fact, he rather likes a challenge.  The wolf straightens and rolls his shoulders, attempting to appear larger, broader.  Though well-muscled he’s still somewhat lean — a result of his own scrappy youthfulness.  Those who’ve come forth after the second feline have not spoken a word, prompting him to return his attention to Suiteheart.  “What, they your fuckin’ entourage?” he asks coolly, jerking his head at the silent group who have since gathered.  It’s clearly a kind of joke — there’s a certain measured glean behind his eyes, even if his tone remains steady.

He glances briefly at the four and then focuses once more on the admiral, the only to introduce herself.  The wolf eyes her a bit and then offers, “Miamihorror, by the way.”  He finds himself licking his lips again and the metallic tang reminds him to look down.  He’s still covered in blood — he’s almost forgotten.  He looks back up with a smirk upon the realization that this has been his first impression.  God, he could really go for another cig.  “You guys live ‘ere?” Miamihorror finally asks, shifting his weight on his paws.

[BASTILLEPAW]

BASTILLEPRISONER AURELIUS — [color=#21201c]TAGS
The tang of blood is pretty damn unmistakable, but Bastille isn't too worried, frankly. He can feel no distress radiating from the source as he tracks it, and as he draws closer, he can identify the presence of multiple familiar auras. A newcomer, then, possibly injured -- many of them seemed to show up needing medical aid, lost and confused on their territory, and he wouldn't be surprised if this was another. No one had rushed past looking for Rin yet, so he didn't feel any urgency to get moving quicker. Joiners were always swamped by a crowd of strange faces, and Bast was not interested in contributing to the masses of awkward small talk and creepy looming.

When he did come sauntering up to them, it was with a sense of lazy indifference. He was tired, for one thing, and while he was in a relatively good mood, he just... a little drained on making friends with so many strangers so quickly. He wasn't good at small talk and certainly didn't like it, so the constant stream of people to be responsible for and pleasantries to be had was exhausting him. He gave the stranger a once over, identified the source of the blood, and drawled, "Welcome to the Ascendants, boo. Yeah, we live here. You can live here too if you want, s'long as you don't kill us in our sleep and wear our blood as an accessory." A yawn as he added, "m Bast."

© MADI

[Suiteheart]

SUITE
HEART

At the question he directed to her, she chuckled before faking a gasp. "How'd you know?" she asked in return, mirth freckling her tone. Though she had just met Miamihorror, she had a feeling she was going to get along swimmingly with him. She admired his attitude. He seemed to be someone who could handle exactly what they dished out, and that was something she respected. Not too many individuals could brag about that, but the wolf seems to have that ability down.

She stole her gaze away from the newcomer long enough to watch Bastilleprisoner arrive. She listened to his words and then nodded. She let out a little 'hmm,' of amusement at her leader's rule for staying. It seemed Bast had jokes too. Returning her attention to Miamihorror, she allowed a lopsided grin to mark her lips. "Welcome to the Ascendants, Miamihorror. Need a tour or are you more of a solo guy?"

[b]suiteheart folie-mikaelson . ecliptic admiral . the ascendants . tags

© [color=black]MADI