DON'T MAKE IT BAD / OPEN

[LAZARUS]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 1.4;letter-spacing:.1px"]When Moon said that he believed him, a weight should have lifted off of his shoulders. Somebody other than Gabe could see that he meant it, and that was relieving. But the public's opinion doesn't begin and end with its leader's. The beliefs of two people weren't perfect, and sometimes, when people look at him like he could snap at any second or when they skirt away from him in the hallways, he wonders if they're right to be afraid of him. His memory isn't always the most reliable thing — he has hazy memories of things that weren't true, empty holes where real things should have been. The fevers, the fire, it wasn't too much of a stretch to say that he could forget violence too? A coil of fear winds up in his chest, tighter and tighter every time they look at him, a weakness so unfamiliar that he's not sure what to do with it except retreat.

The Cane Corso hasn't been inside the Observatory for a day now, and just as the last time he'd wanted to avoid that building, he's found a somewhat peaceful way to waste his time. At least out here there aren't very many people. He's on his stomach in the grass with another piece of wood between his teeth, but like the last time, his chewing isn't entirely aimless. The bark is soft and breaks easily, and after an hour of switching between this and delicate clawing, Lazarus had managed to make... a circle. Almost. A very rough, slightly pointed, slobber-covered circle. It's not violent, that's enough.

[DRESDENBOMBS]

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DRESDENBOMBS VEGLADON

OBSERVER ★ THE ASCENDANTS ★ 13 MOONS

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Dresden had missed a bit of drama, he'd gathered. The dark tom had only made an appearance late last night, slipping into the Observatory with his escorts in a quiet, uneventful thing. He'd done the dutiful thing and ran a patrol, injuring himself along the way. He'd made some friends seeking assistance with that. As far as he was concerned, he was ticking all the boxes: joining, settling, participating, going about typical group living life. The cobwebs binding his paw tightly at the joint shifted against his skin in a smug reminder that it was working.

Next, of course, he was meant to be making slightly better friends than those quick interactions. He had enough options to choose from, he supposed, but he avoided the obvious — targeting the higher ups in their little social hierarchy first — and instead settled on the more subtle options. Those who were more needy, maybe. Those clinging to the edge of the social circle as was, looking for a life-line, a connection. He sniffed out the weak links that afternoon and went about befriending.

He supposed that this kid practically lay himself down at Dres' paws, slinking out of the Observatory with the dodgy look of dejected youth. It was only a bit after that he finally followed, casually wandering through the fields and winding slightly. No need to directly track the kid down. He came at it from an angle, drifting off path a bit first, and there was a moment where his wandering paused and his attention heightened on the stranger as if just seeing him. With a distant nod in greeting, he picked up the pace and started to walk with purpose towards the other male.

"Hello," he greeted, voice loosing a barely too smooth edge to it as he injected more warmth. Orange eyes flicked over this stranger briefly, curious but polite, not too intrusive. "What're you doing out here? Guess the weather is nice enough, but it's kind of... quiet." A sheepish smile, loading on the boyish charm. "Not that that's a bad thing. You know, if you're into quiet. Sorry, where are my manners? I'm Dresdenbombs, or Dres."

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WE'RE JUST RESURRECTION MEN

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[GABRIEL]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9.4pt; line-height: 1.4;"]Gabe had been paranoid for a while, ever the first murder and then the shit with Sunhaven. Hell, he'd been paranoid long before that, but it climbed from there, and made another few jumps when he found Laz standing in front of a body looking terribly confused. Laz didn't do it, he knew that much, so someone had done their absolute best to frame him for murder, and that- that obviously wasn't an innocuous plan. It was malevolent, and he wanted to root out whatever bastard thought it was a good idea to fuck with his kid. That meant keeping an eye on Lazarus, even though he knew he didn't appreciate it. So Gabriel pulled out all the tricks he had to remain undetected while still close enough to intervene if anything happened. When Lazarus left the Observatory, he slipped out through the walls at a limp and with a wince. Going immaterial at will wasn't easy, and he didn't always manage it. When he did, it left him with a headache, and since he already had a headache alongside a fuckton of other random issues, it was...painful to tail him like this. But a little pain was nothing new, and he'd take worse to keep Lazarus safe.

His paranoia was the reason he caught the one following his son. Sure, he waited a bit, didn't follow him directly, but it was an ambling path that just so happened to run nearly parallel, and the abrupt veer wasn't the whimsicality of a stroller. He didn't recognize this person. Was this the viper who framed Laz? What reasons could he have that weren't nefarious or selfish in nature to follow Laz? "Yeah, wanna know where your manners went, following my kid." The hybrid's black gaze revealed nothing as he left the grass, and it briefly shifted over to the canine, chewing on bark, arranging a circle. "¿Qué chingados? Tendramos que vigilarlo, mijo."
[align=right][i]——INFO

[LAZARUS]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 1.4;letter-spacing:.1px"]All chewing stops as soon as he had company and really, that was to be expected. Though entire point of this was to avoid people, keep himself busy and away —

But it's not like he could stop people from approaching him, and time with a certain feathery hybrid had taught him something. Reluctantly, Lazarus leaves the half-formed shape between his paws and looks up at Dresdenbombs with a weary disdain. Maybe he was an outcast, someone barely clinging to the fringes of this place, but he sure wasn't the weak link this guy was looking for. He'd learned what friendships did for people when he was young enough that he should have been bundled safely behind someone else, not throwing himself into fights that left him scarred. If Dres was looking for someone to befriend, he was looking in the wrong place. Laz snapped at people who got too close and slept outside after he was nice to someone. He wasn't weak, and he sure wasn't needy. (Wanting was not needing, after all.)

He lets Gabriel handle interaction first, not at all surprised by his appearance here. He'd do the same thing if he was in trouble. Follow him around, make sure he was safe. And he is in trouble, whether or not it's obvious, so when he's not avoiding interaction there's a good chance he could be found curled up on the ground near him. "Tu me sigues tambien, viejo," he huffs, though there's a difference and he's aware of it. Trust one, don't know the other — he would be cautious, the way he always was. Still, it's... nice, maybe, to meet someone that doesn't know what's been happening in his life. "You can call me Lazarus, I'm not here for quiet."

/ had to google translate that phrase whoops

[MOONMADE]

[size=9pt]'I'm not here for the quiet.' "We don't got much of that, anyway."

Moon appears shortly after Gabriel, drawn in by nothing other than the paranoia that Gabe and Laz - being the brilliant, charming duo that they were - were back at it again. 'It' meaning leaving casual disaster in their wake whenever they were together. This was a thing he did, now; witnessing interactions from afar and instantly heading their way out of genuine fear that one of the many colorful personalities that called this place home was inevitably fucking some more shit up. With a poor, innocent newbie, no less. If you could call the weird guy with the sprained paw that.

"Feathers, Bambi," He greets, dipping his head to both in a show of feigned respect (that was clearly anything but) and offering a nod Dres' way as he sprawls out in a heap on the ground. A part of him feels awkward around the two, fumbling gracelessly with all the shit that was going on with both of them, paranoid on so many levels about so many things. If anything, that was the reason for the grab at humor he makes, almost trying to convince himself that things were still how they were. That easy back and forward without the bloodied eyes and shredded corpses.

"You know, Gabe," continues the lion, "I can see you're really taking your reclaimed rank seriously, and I appreciate both of your efforts to be more welcoming, okay, I do-- but sometimes I feel like there's a-- and tell me if this is just me, okay-- but it just feels like there's a, a-- I don't know," He layers the sarcasm on thick, motions uselessly at the air and pretends to look for the words, clearly milking this for all its worth. "A language barrier?"