keep all your misery // joining

[AMBROISE]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 1.4;letter-spacing:.1px"]Ambroise was still waiting on time to do what it was supposed to, though he'd learned by now that anyone and anything rarely did what they were supposed to. If the assholes Ambroise had patched up since he was a kid did their jobs right, the other raiders wouldn't have gotten as far into the camp as they had, and Mila wouldn't have been at risk in the first place. She wouldn't have died trying to pull a kid from the teeth of a bastard, gone before Ambroise made it to her, while blood-drenched figures kept at their pointless shit around her body. Death hadn't meant anything to them, and it didn't for Ambroise. Not usually. Sometimes he knew the still body was too young to have wrapped themselves in the senseless violence of territoriality and pillaging shit.

But it didn't matter, and Ambroise wasn't on that "every life, however small, deserves a chance" shtick. Mila, though, she deserved better. He'd wanted to give it to her, promised her on quiet nights that they'd get out one day and go far away. He fed her pipe-dreams and impossibilities, and now she was dead. Had been for half a year, and that- half a year and nothing had changed. Her shadow still caught on his periphery, carrying bundles of boiled cloth or baskets of food.

Didn't change no matter how far he went, how long.

This wasn't nearly far enough either, but he knew enough about how uppity people got about their precious borders -how many bodies had he burned because of a misstep like that?- and he didn't want to bother with claws and blood right now. He was too tired to start shit, too tired to end it, so the lion sat, worn eyes slightly narrowed. "Pic kee toi," he muttered roughly, eyes on the grass, although who -or what- Ambroise swore at, he couldn't say. Everything, probably.
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[ATTICUS]

――――  //Welcome to to the Ascendants! Glad to have you!

What, or who, ended up becoming Atticus. Even despite becoming leader recently, Atticus still tried to maintain his typical patterns of watching the borders and keeping tabs on the territory. While things were looking better for the Ascendants as of late, with them agreeing to Neutrality with Sunhaven, the idea of an unknown murderer returning to try and return them to enemies was unsettling for both parties. Regardless, it was a task that Atticus did not take lightly, even despite how monotonous it could become at times. It seemed, however, that he was to be rewarded for his efforts as a voice perked his ears from afar, making the large jaguar quietly turn his path and make his way forth to the lion that sat at his border. He supposed that people rarely ever did what they said that they might; whether unintentionally or purposeful was another matter. Sometimes, plans that were made changed in the span of a second; other times, there was always theintent that it would never occur as others had made of it. He couldn't claim to understand the depth of what Ambroise had been through, but perhaps the notions did not change very much between people.

Yet, that was not a discussion they would have. Instead, Atticus' paws lightly stopped before the larger creature, for a moment pausing as his golden-eyed gaze steeled upon the creature in front of him. They, at least, were respectful enough not to trample right through the territory. On the other hand, they held a certain tiredness about them, and his words were not one that Atticus recognized personally. "Welcome to the Ascendants," his greeting began easily, "You look like you could use a good meal and some rest. Am I mistaken, mister...?" he prompted idly, his brows raising faintly as the man slowly sat back upon his haunches, sitting a little taller. Regardless, he went on for a moment longer, straight to the point. "I am called Atticus, the Astral Seraph - Leader - of the Ascendants. We are more than welcome to help, if you want it."

  [color=black][b]

[Grimm]

[align=center][div style="max-width: 420px; line-height:120%; font-family: arial; font-size: 8.5pt; text-align: justify; margin-bottom:5px"]Within the span of time, caught amongst the web of it all each event worn until memory is lost, taken apart as though cruel the hands plucking the strings, he was nothing more then a speck. Dull the notion of death within the structure of a mind yet to know the weight of such – liar, accept the truth, swallow it and feel it tear your throat apart – quiet the murmur of it, promise upon edge of bated breath. Upon him it lingered though blind was the eye turned to such, found within the bloom of scar as though savage a flower grew within the delicate structure of skin, ache of it working within.

Audible his approach for difficult was it to quiet ragged exhale, caught upon points of teeth before it rose, hum lacing edges. Rough the voice, croaking thing for minimal had use become, broken for brief moment as tongue pressed to lips. Little was the time he was permitted beyond the walls, concrete and glass drawn into complex a housing though simple its face, weak still though needed was such activity. It mattered not the ill fit of paws upon his body dwarfed within the prints left, some not entirely formed and others smeared, almost gone yet on he continued to walk within, the mark of Atticus' passage made them tiny. Only kindness had been shown by the jaguar and quickly had Keyne latched onto such, welcome it.

“Hello,” voice rose within bright tone behind the words of the other, twist of lips giving the stranger a grin that settled well upon the white and grey toned features, match to eyes and ears all too large to fit upon so gaunt a face.

[ATBASH CIPHER.]

ATBASH CIPHER

tired eyes, barely open,
crippled by a promise broken !

The stranger here definitely did not look to be in good health. Atbash frowned as she made her way over, blinking at Ambroise (whose name she didn't know, of course) in wonder and worry. "I can go fetch water or something," The savannah offered, though her words were mostly directed towards Atticus rather than the male at their border.

bio | female | lunar lieutenant [hp] of the ascendants

© madi

[AMBROISE]

[align=center][div style="max-width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 1.4;letter-spacing:.1px"]Ambroise's expression remained flat, hazel gaze on the smaller feline with no particular inflection. He'd already forgotten what he introduced this place as, and for a few moments, the lion considered the benefits of simply turning around and leaving. He'd never been social on even his best day, let alone when in a poor mood, but there wasn't much of anywhere he couldn't go that wouldn't rub him the wrong way somehow. If he retreated to the mountains, he'd be too cold, and it'd be an awkward adjustment to go from spending every waking -and sleeping- moment with someone nearby to complete isolation. On the other hand, there were too many people here, and not enough limitless stretch of water he could send his gaze across. Maybe he was hard to please, or maybe he was just too damn tired of...everything.

"I might could," he said after a pause, but he didn't jump to offer his name, exhaling slowly, like it might take some of his weary agitation with it. "No mister here. Ambroise." He wasn't going to question the fancy title. People liked dressing words up to be more than what they were. Not really a region-specific affliction. "What'll you want in return?" In his experience, everyone wanted something for their hospitality, even if it was disguised as requiring a hand with the chores. Easy price to pay- Ambroise just hated it when anyone ever tried to pretend otherwise, like nothing in return settled fine in their heads.

Greenish eyes dropped to the child, a bony thing. Not his problem, though- seemed like there were plenty of people here capable of getting a kid to swallow what they were given, but he wouldn't lie to himself, wouldn't pretend there wasn't an urge somewhere. Altruism just didn't come easy, and neither did he accept it blindly either, flat features sharpening, gaze shifting from the boy to the woman. She didn't even address him, like Ambroise couldn't answer for himself.

He found it hard to give shits about anything, but he wasn't sick or invalid. "Or you mightn't could. 'M fine."
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[ORPHEUS]

[align=center][div style="max-width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 1.4;letter-spacing:.1px"]Orpheus, well — he's not hard to please. With people and with places, it doesn't take too much for him to see the good. Even after a lifetime of bad, he'll get his stomach all knotted up over the way someone smiles or his attention narrowed down to just the color of the sky in the middle of the night. From the broadest and narrowest perspectives, he's easy. But that doesn't mean he doesn't know what it's like to want to walk away from people. A social nature didn't mean that sometimes things didn't hurt, that seeing people happy where he couldn't be wouldn't cut him to the bone. Those — they're personal issues, nothing more. Not relevant to this, but in the end he simply means that he understands the urge. And that he's sure not going to make it easy for anyone else to act on it. Loneliness shouldn't be something that anyone wanted.

The smaller lion isn't quite subtle in his approach, though it's more controlled and much slower than normal. "He needs a hug, not water." Orpheus watches him with wide, curious eyes that linger on the scars and his mottled pelt, and after a moment his gaze snap back to his and he smiles. "It's so nice to meet someone else who can see the best in the world around them." Though the words should be dry or accompanied by a roll of his eyes, they're warm and genuine aside from a childish glimmer to give him away. Besides, Ambroise seems smart enough to get it anyway. He knows who he is, maybe a little too well. There has to be some room for growth, right?

But back on topic: that glimmer dies a little quickly because he's listening, and — "You might what?" Wandering through the world, he'd seen all sorts of creatures and heard all sorts of speeches, a million different ways to say the same thing, but something about that particular phrasing makes his stomach drop and then flutter back up to his throat. Although he doesn't laugh again, the sound still might just ring from his throat with the way that he looks at him and tries to hide a smile, one that softens quickly. "Maybe save the trade-offs until after you've gotten a nap, porcupine."