when the fir needles fall // return

[teef]

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[color=#151B54]JERISIDIE
" i am the god-damn king !! "

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it had been considerable time since he had fled the pitt in an attempt to help his adopted daughter escape the grip of stryker and his, for lack of better word, mate, ninazu. now, he had decided upon hearing his eldest's decision to join this group in hope of chasing a friendship that had given them hope, he had decided to return himself. he had naught but his children in this life, all of his multiple partners were dead or missing.

this time, this move was for himself, to face some demons from the ancient past that were coming back to kill him. for he was the first general of hell, the second king, and the founder of the lingre lineage. he had many children of his own, and he now had grandchildren to welcome to the world and into the family. perhaps, here, he could find something to bide his time with as he waited for time to catch up to him.

as he drifted through his thoughts, the white hellhound padded along the edge of the forest, back towards the blood red river that he remembered spending time at, his golden eyes narrowing as he rolled his shoulders. he wore a mask over his face completely, in the shape of a skull. it hid the extreme damage done to his face when he was reborn in this canid body.

settling at the border, where the battle scarred male could see the guards, he waited. he smelt of rot, his injuries long past healing and mainly covered by flowers to mask the scent, and the most impressive had to be his leg, a work of complete nature, where vines took over his leg and attached a moveable wooden prosthetic covered in blooms and greens.

he must have drifted off, because he was thrust into memories, memories so painful that he had no wish to remember them. they were memories of when he came to this world, after his first rebirth, and after his beloved had murdered him to stop the madness within him from growing. the cries of a child fall on bleeding ears, tears soaking an ancient face, aching and craving rest, the light pulling wearily at the gladiator's limbs, forcing him upon his feet to march once more, uncertain of the future he will face, nor is he certain if he will find the god that had saved him. shouldering his sword, the demon king would readjust his crown of crimson, smoke floating about his figure as daisies sprouted about his feet. taking in a deep breath he would step into the pool of black water still as glass, the galaxies parting to shove him back into the times of war and heartache he had left behind. he was tired, so tired. yet he must carry on, and return, to live again, and again, and again. he only wanted the rest of a thousand years, with his beloved at his side one last time, embracing the god of kindness before his mother's abominations found them and ripped them apart once more in this time.

shaking his weary body, the man let his eye rest on the water, his only golden orb staring at the bloody water in accusation for the memories of his times in the heavens separated from the man that he had loved with his whole being, the one that had been ripped away from him. those memories were from a long time ago, where he had been in his human shape, before he had come here, perhaps. he was one so old that the memories that he thought he knew, loved to trick him and torture his mind.

pulling his head up, the hellhound leased a howl, one that his children would know. an unspoken statement that he was back and he was here to stay.

[Crackers]

FOURTHWALL FALLOUT
BLACK/GOLD HELLHOUND - MALE - 19 MONTHS - THE PITT

Fourthwall had never cared much for things like blood relatives or raising a family. He hadn't when his mother and siblings had needed his most, and he didn't now. Perhaps during the in-between there had been a brief moment where he'd considered it, when the right person had ensnared his heart and filled his head with dreams of things that could never really come to fruition, but he could see the error of his ways now, could see how foolish it had been to think he could have anything like that.

Monsters didn't get happy endings.

And so he'd put foolish things like that away and returned to the life he knew best, a life that was selfish and filled with impulses, but one that was satisfying none the less. The world was an unpredictable place where people only found happiness if they were willing to take it, and Fourth had always done what made him happy, even if it came at the expense of someone else. That wasn't to say though that he was a solitary creature that was unable to form proper bonds with others. In fact, it was quite the opposite. The hellhound was a social beast if ever there was one, drawn to communities and known to easily forge friendships with others. He just had no interest in anyone who was outside his little bubble, and unless you were the submissive and innocent sort then you were fair game for any of his antics.

Unsurprisingly he was among the first of the guards to catch the other canines scent, notified farther by the long howl let loose by the white canine standing at their borders. With feline blood pumping through his veins alongside canine blood, he was well used to being found in the lower branches of the larger trees, where he could bask in the warmth of the sun while keeping an eye on the borders. This was one trait that often set him apart from others of his species, for the massive canine had many unseen feats that were very feline in nature, like his retractable claws, keen sense of balance/athletics, and the powerful bite his jaws were capable of delivering.  None of these 'extras' were noticeable at a glance however, and as the large black and gold canine lept from the tree to the ground below and made his way over, he was visually nothing but a large brindle canine. Albeit, a very capable looking one giving the toned muscle beneath his mid-length fur and the various battlescars pinned across his frame like war medals from an old veteran.

"Name and business with the Pitt?" he'd ask, and while the phrase itself was curt and laced with a note of boredom, there wasn't any telltale aggression or unfriendliness in them. While it was evident from the gleam of his mismatched eyes and the many scars that covered his form that he was a troublemaker ready and willing, he also lacked a need to flaunt said traits. When the time was upon him to tear someone to pieces then they'd know quickly the mistake they'd made in crossing paths with him, and indeed the border was a good place for the young adult to exercise this, as there was always someone sniffing around who'd accidentally wandered too close or who'd been snooping around for an enemy clan. And if this guy turned out to be one of them then they could have a little fun of their own out here, but from the calm way he was waiting and gazing at the blood river Fourth figured he probably knew where he was an why he wanted to be there, meaning the darker hound had no reason to show hostility- yet.

"SPEECH

♡♡♡
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[teef]

RAMONA LINGRÉ

✯ — THE GROWN UPS TAUGHT ME TO WATCH AND LEARN

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that howl meant something, something that she had to see. she knew that voice and all the cracks within it. she knew the owner of the voice, and she couldn't believe it. there was no way that he could be here, right?

her papa said that he was dead, that her mama died when the royal family was attacked and the title of general was passed down to her eldest sibling. she didn't see any bodies, because her papa had stolen her away. she just heard the stories over and over until her papa's group had been attacked and killed.

pushing through the brush of the jungle, ramona raced towards the river and the familiar voice, breaking through the foliage in a desperate looking state. her eyes fell upon fourth and the white hellhound standing before the brindle male gazing at the river. "M-mama ...?", the halfling whispered to the light male, her heart aching as she stepped towards him, half blinded with tears as she approached him slowly until his scent was clear and she moved as quickly as her gangly legs would allow, "Mama!", she called as she attempted to slip to his side and press against the white male who she knew was her parent.

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✯ — FEMALE. UNKNOWN. WEAK. REF. BIO. — ✯

#psychosocial.

[Kydobi]

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Better to be hurt by the truth than comforted by a lie -
♕tags-powers♕

[OOC: ]

For the first time in a long while. The brute was jealous. But oh he contained it well, his heart lurched at Ramona's eagerness to see the white dog. But it was not a woman.

"Ramona-" but she was gone. He would step forward, keeping a close eye. Through his isolation and loneliness he had found Ramona. A ball of bright youth and kindness. He liked knowing that she was all he had, but he had never ever thought of her parents returning.

Call me dad. And she did. But who was this "mama"? It hurt a little, to know she possibly wouldn't look up to him as much anymore.

But he would handle it maturely. And he would watch.

[sub][W]isker[/sub]

[teef]

jerisidie - the king !

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"My name is Jerisidie Lingré, the forefather of the Lingré lineage. I'm here to return to the Pitt, my first home before I met with a hard-headed moron.", he answered before his senses were assaulted by the scent of his youngest.

his eye gleamed as he looked upon his child, a pleased noise leaving the smaller hellhound, "oh my sweet daughter, I thought I had lost you after your father took you.", he murmured, enjoying the impact of her body against his, licking between the halfling's ears, nuzzling her in a short show of happiness. it had been a long, long time since he had seen any of his cubs.

a look around revealed the feeling of eyes on his youngest and himself, "you might be confused by her calling me mother. in a former life, I did give birth to her, through a female body.", he chuckled, giving the easiest explanation to the situation. he had been aware of his eldest coming to this group, but after all this, he was happy to be home, and to be surrounded by his children and their own families.

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tags - white hellhound - the pitt

[Crackers]

FOURTHWALL FALLOUT
BLACK/GOLD HELLHOUND - MALE - 19 MONTHS - THE PITT

The reunion didnt mean much to Fourth personally, not like it did for Jeriside or Kydobi. He was alitented from the subject erven farther by the fact that he'd never really cared much for his own family, so a reunion like this wasn't something he could even imagine relating to.

Fourth would let's his lips twist upward into a small smirk at the others words, though. "Hard headed moron? I know one of those. Welcome back, anyways- I can see the welcoming party's already here for you." he'd say, motioning to Ramon with an amused look. "I'm Fourth wall,  by the way. Nice to meet you."

"SPEECH

♡♡♡
tags

[teef]

jerisidie - the king !

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attention turning back to the other hellhound, the smaller male grinned widely and warmly, dipping his head in response, "it's wonderful to be back. truly. ah, the pleasure is mine, Fourth wall. would one of you care to catch me up on what happened? ah, i wish that sick s.o.b. stryker would show his face. even better to learn if he got knocked from his pedestal as ardent.", he murmured, dipping his head in pleasant greeting before straightening with a smile on his scarred maw.

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tags - white hellhound - the pitt

[Sundayprayers]

  For how long would one say that smile would remain on the worn hellhound's maw? Twenty seconds or even shorter. The lynx found himself over where this could have clearly remained the worst prior moment of his life.  Why did Jer have to come back.  He was in complete and honest danger, Augustin was also here.  That bastard would love to make his life a total hell.

Augustine was horribly pigheaded in moments like this and here he was just mere moments away from this. That constricting urge to violent cough was making his throat scratch and itch.  No amount of water could take care of this, and he knew it was only going to get much and more worse.

So what caused him to speak these words, as much as he restrained from showing any kind of sign that his worst enemy was also here. "Welcome to the pitts Jerisidie." came the soft murmur, that was has much has he could speak, without causing more strain on his probably damned vocal cords.

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[teef]

AUGUSTIN SALIAS

✯ — THIS LUCKY PENNY AINT BEEN NOTHIN' BUT BAD LUCK

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shortly after Sunday arrived, a mountain lion would follow the lynx, cold blue eyes locked on the white hellhound with his golden eye. he grinned to himself at this point in time, my play toy is back, finally. wondered if he would show up here. he thought to himself, claws sinking into the sandy ground below them.

he had to settle, had to wait to savor his victory. mmm, it was good to hear Sunday's voice again, which brought a rumble from the male. his eyes were locked on jerisidie, waiting for the scent of fear to fill his nose, "welcome back, jerisidie lingré"

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✯ — MALE. THE PITT. MODERATE-HIGH. REF. BIO. — ✯

#psychosocial.

[Sundayprayers]

  Eh nope. The very hairs on Sunday's spine stood and bristled lowly in response to Augustin reappearing. Hell, for all sake and purpose he had more than any kind of regrets for Augustin to randomly die. He wished it from the bottom of his heart, and he was disgusted.  He shot the mountain lion a look of deepest loathing, Jer did not deserve this kind of torture.

If you know anything about Augustin, you would run the farthest away from him. Where the darkness and the sun wouldn't touch nor shine. thought Sunday making up his mind.  There was many things that he was almost confident that he knew that Augustin was responsible for, and it was high time for the bastard to start making payments for the sins that he committed.  Sunday was guilty of only one thing, and it was jealous provoked.

Augustin was guilty of so much more and it made the devil himself seem like a saint.  Not sparing a second glance, and keeping most of his thoughts together, he dug his claws into the sands beneath him.  Augustin had this coming for many a moons now, and what could be the worst thing that mountain lion could do to him? Kill him? No, Augustin needed him, like a child needed a toy.

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