patient is the night | group of joiners

[matthew f.]

GET OUT OF THESE HILLS

Night had fallen upon Tanglewood. Stars hung in the sky as if distant fairy-lights, spots that blurred together if you squinted just right. Cast rays from the moon highlighting silhouettes upon the border, an odd amalgamation of creatures big and small. Some intertwined with another, some stood alone, but all close enough to show that they were, indeed, a group. It hadn't taken them long to meet at the border, an observer could think that they'd all headed there together, and now they stood in wait, eyes flitting through the dark swamp and heads moving to check out every creak, crack, chirp.

Matthew was a fairly patient man, although some would disagree, but he was a tad perturbed. Darkness was a comfort that was well received in known territory, not the outskirts of a bog. It left him on edge, wary, and soothing it was not. Na'er again did he want to be held in suspense of how his arrival would be taken, for it may have been a worthwhile endeavour in the ballrooms, but in a bog? unnecessary. He had not involved himself with a clan such as this in the past, especially not in the body that he currently held. Larger than a common street mutt, fur tinged with a colour near crimson, muzzle irritatingly in his field of vision, he was probably a wolf. Not dissimilar to the one's that he had observed as a youth.

He'd glance over to the animals, and others, to the sides of him. "Indeed, you are certain that he's dwelling here?"

[ don't post till [member=13119]florence f.[/member] [member=13133]bridget[/member] [member=13114]tobias .[/member] [member=13143]ambrose.[/member] [member=13123]Margery[/member] [member=67]beck[/member] post ]

code by spacexual

[MERGED]

[align=center][div style="text-align:justify;width:50%;font-family:verdana"]tobias was used to the constant traveling and the ache in his legs as he trudged through mud and water. being what he was, he seemed to be an easy target for the regular predators of the swamps. more than once he's had to stomp on the head of an alligator to scare it off, leaving him and his little critter-filled antlers in piece. at the base of his antlers sat a snake just as white as him, bright optics trained on the canine that had spoken.

"quite." the snake uttered, receiving a soft huff from the white stag as the youngest of he group (in spirit, at least) began to splash in a puddle with one of his hooves in boredom. his own gaze moved to his brother, moss falling into his eyes as he looked down. the canine, despite how close they had been in life, frightened him slightly, even still. it was hard to look at him, hard to process.

"don't see how you can be so sure that beck'll be here." he muttered, looking ahead as he continued to play in the puddle.

"im an adult, i know all." the snake muttered, earning a snort of laughter from the stag.

[kinglykingstone]

AMBROSE FINCH - male - black bear - immortal - tanglewood

Large clawed paws thump against the moist ground, a grunt leaving the massive bear as he comes to a stop beside his siblings. The bear's massive head swung to face his siblings, huffing out a breath. "I don't like this place much," he'd admit, glancing to the darkness filled bog that surrounded them. He felt an unease at the idea of unable to see what lurked in the dark and found himself shifting closer, protective, towards his siblings. Arguably, he would be considered the strongest out of the ones gathered here and well, even in a past life he'd felt a strong need to protect them. "Hope someone friendly shows soon."

[Grimm]

[align=center][div style="font-family: arial; font-size: 11px; width: 60%; text-align: justify; line-height:120%"]Languid waves lapping at stagnant shoreline, a quiet cycle of give and take, swirling particles of suspended grains caught in the lace of frothing foam. Against the torn edging of lacerated skin pressed edges of jagged granite, pilfered weight accumulated in pockets of poor stitch work, bulging in a manner befit imminent ruin. Her chest ached with a budding heat, all too long enclosed a breath grown stale behind the clench of teeth.

Soft the trailing of severed whimper parting the whitened stretch of her lips, flushed cheeks obscured beneath the downward curl of terror laced frown. Chilled the lapping tide climbing up extended foot, swallowed in depths of no conceivable end, grown damp the hemp of her dress as her weight settled with a choked sob. Away might she turn, escape the pulsing ache of broken heart, yet unallowed such action for a conniving, cruel woman such as she —

Broken the cruel illusion of rare pondered memory, recollection faded and coarse, yet all the same the starkness of dying afternoon left widened eyes of ebony as a fitful bout of rapid blinking beset her. Beyond the recollection of barely important time that which framed the period of their travels, the steady rise and collapse of each day marked only by the stilted line of fitful conversation. Strangers all, though once within veins buried within aching muscle blood shared had flowed.

Forth flicked the forked extension of a pale tongue, her momentum drawing to an uneasy halt between the broad paws of towering ursidae. Among the forest of multi-hued limbs framing her a mere speck of brown laced with black the viper that lifted triangular head, gleaming the saliva coated curl of hollow fangs revealed in a yawn of unexpected magnitude. Of life she knew a pitiful amount, the creeping press of exhaustion ignored once more within favour of lifting a voice laced with a gentle hiss.

"We can not be sure until we check," gentle the low murmur gracing scaled mouth, easy to trace the trajectory of wandering vision. Bad the blood present between the vipers of differing origin, a menace and boy of once hated mischief that which adorned the moss and lichen covered tines of crowning antlers, companion in travel assist little in removing such lacklustre imagery. "We should not get out hopes up."

[Margery]

The little Welsh sheepdog trailed behind the group. She frequently stopped whenever others stopped and mainly took her place in the back to make sure nobody got left behind. The small dog seemed sturdy enough to endure the long journey. Her fur was caked in the mud of the swamp but she didn't complain. Margery hadn't spoken much during the journey, but was panting rather harshly. Her tongue flopped out of her mouth as she surveyed the land before them. She listened to each of their comments and sighed, closing her eyes.

It was so nice to be with her family again. Though it brought up memories, painful memories that Margery treated with love and care so that they would not haunt her, she was glad and proud of their collective decision to see the brother they hardly ever knew.

Margery glanced at each of them with a wide-eyed loving hazel gaze. Five hundred years pass so fast. She spent all that time on earth as a wandering spirit, attracted to those who were dejected like a moth to the flame. She saw before her a blistering scar of trauma suffered by her family and felt certain now that her calling was to them now. She only wished that she was able to do so sooner.

The dog picked up her pace ever so slightly to posit herself on the frontlines into the unknown. Her ears, normally pulled back, pricked forward to perceive any signs of life. Apprehension was certainly not an emotion she was experiencing. She had faith, of course. And if it turned out to be a farce, she would continue to the ends of the earth to find Beck. Margery could only hope her outward optimism and idealism would soothe their doubtful souls.

[deimos]

Finding Beck was one idea that Bridget hadn't quite leaned into herself. But the rest of them were sure, so the woman had agreed. The travel was easy enough for the falcon- flying overhead, at a lazy pace, wings gently beating to keep time with the footsteps of those below her. If she wasn't flying, her body was resting upon the back of the ursid, whether or not she was accepted. But, upon the group reaching the swamp, her feathers were ruffled gently.

There was a certain darkness not only here, but in the air, her feathers puffing onto their ends and her eyes shifting about warily. She could see, well enough, the falcon's eyes piercing the dark. She clacked her beak together, slowly lowering herself down onto Ambrose's back once again, observing the group of mismatched animals. She turned her gaze back forward, raising her soft voice to join into the conversation.

"He'll be here." She spoke, despite being soft spoken, she felt as if he was here. Something in the marrow of her empty bones, she could tell he was here.

"SPEECH"

code by spacexual

[beck.]

[align=center]

    Once upon a fifteenth century, a rickety farmstead loomed in the center of tilled fields and untouched woodland. A man and his wife toiled in the barn with tamed beasts of burden, the glebe with everchanging acres of crops, the orchard with columns of saplings bearing their first fruits, the lake with lurking shadows beneath to be collected in hand-woven nets, and the forest teeming with life to be hunted down for pelt and meat. An heirloom from the man's once-esteemed bloodline, the bargain for the woman's hand. It was all theirs, and theirs alone.

    Yet with isolation and poverty followed the crippling lack of serfs to tend the land when they couldn't. The solution? Give birth to workers of their own. Seven children conceived, but only six raised. Rumor whispered among the town, of early death and cruel fate. The family spoke naught of the missing child, assumed to be mourning and with time, suspicions and gossip were laid to rest. When the eldest simply ceased to be, the rumor was rebirthed, snowballing into a tragic curse with each face removed from the family portrait by unforeseen mishap. Eight graves and markers border the far end of the withering field in the gap between the treeline and wheat stalks. And the ninth? Well, that's a story for another time.

    Sounds like a fairytale torn right from the drafts of Grimm, unpublished and lost to time.

    But as much as he wanted it to be fictional like the movies he watched unfold countless times before, it would prove to be quite realistic by the end of his insomniac stroll.

    The seventh-born was none other than the street urchin turned martyr in barbaric fashion, the vessel for corruption itself, the Beck so sought after by strangers and family alike. As far as he could remember, he didn't have true relatives beyond the obscure implication of a father and a mother, perhaps a sibling or two. Adopted once off the dirt road he was stranded on, and now adopted twice by his best friend, Beck all but forgot about his birth parents. Save for the melancholic nights like this one where he could find a quiet place among the gnarled roots of a willow and ask the nobody that was listening why he was given up.

    A deep yet punctured sigh slipped past scabbed lips, his head bowing in remorse. Unwanted, that's what he was. No matter how much Selby tried to convince him otherwise, with tender words he couldn't help but melt into after years with mocking silence. How could anyone ever want you? You're a pest. You do nothing but bring misery and tragedy. Beck bit his tongue, hazel eyes welling with sadness as the persistent voice fed velvety lies into his mind. You don't deserve to cry, you should know this by now, you blithering idiot--

    Hushed voices lifted his attention, his tears pausing in fear of discovery. Sniffling, a bandaged paw scrubbed his eyes to hide any evidence, wetting the cotton gauze. The poltergeist sucked in a harsh breath, only to wheeze it out a moment after. Tentatively, he pushed himself to stand, dull gaze focused on the direction of soft clamor. Nobody else was likely to be awake at this hour, or at least so he figured. From his approach came no sound, even as he hopped from cypress root to muddy shore. Centuries of hiding in the shadowed outskirts lightened his step, more reliant on stealth than strength to evade capture.

    The only announcement to his presence would come as a faint gasp, his eyes widening not at the varied assortment of creatures, but rather at the similarities to him. The freckles, the mix of brown and auburn hair, the lithe frames -- the freckles. Blinking, he snapped his jaw shut before wiping away a strand of drool from his missing cheek in acute embarrassment. It was just a coincidence, probably. Plenty of people could have freckles. And look like rats. Despite not actually being rats. Was that offensive, even if he looked rat-like too? The scrawny feline shuffled his paws awkwardly, knowing all too well that his name had been mentioned several times prior to his arrival as he stalked toward the group. Beck was a common name, right?

    Honey-brown eyes raised to meet their faces, his breath catching in his damaged chest. "I..." he hoarsely stammered, cringing at his shrill tone from eternal youth. "How do you know Beck?" Suspicion guarded his posture, hackles threatening to spark while his gaze narrowed. He wasn't stupid. He wouldn't just reveal his identity like that. After all, the only place he could possibly be wanted was the afterlife, not as a brother or son, but rather as a fugitive and a scapegoat.

[wormwood.]

☆ HUNG PICTURES OF PATRON SAINTS UP ON MY WALL TO REMIND ME THAT I AM A FOOL. TELL ME WHERE I CAME FROM, WHAT I WILL ALWAYS BE: JUST A SPOILED LITTLE KID WHO WENT TO CATHOLIC SCHOOL —

There was a group at the border. A large group, if they were able to be seen so clearly by Aurum as he flew above. The proxy had been on one of his evening patrols, kns blue eye gazing through the darkness that laid in a blanket over the land, his wings carried with the wind. Usually these patrols amounted to nothing, considering thankfully the threats to Tanglewood had been diminished as of late. However, it seemed as though this night was not like most others, if the appearance of a horde of animals was anything to go by. At first glance, Aurum thought them to be a loner group, come to the border in an attempt to trade, or maybe make allies. However, the way they shifted and spoke amongst themselves so covertly... it made his fur prickle with anxiety as he swooped downwards, entirely ready for battle if it was necessary. Perhaps they were a splinter group from the Pitt, come to take the revenge that Kydobi had been denying them for some time now. Or perhaps they were just a new threat, keen on making themselves known by taking on one of the larger groups head on. Either way, the lion descended down below the trees, landing on a sturdy log with a loud thud. He didn't care if he was heard, intent on making himself known to them, anyways. People needed to know that if they desired to hurt Tanglewood, they would have to go through him first. Him and the flames that grew inside of him. Him and the razor sharp teeth that lined his jaw. Him and the beast that lingered inside, waiting.

Thankfully, Aurum had never been one to be hasty. So, when he approached the group slowly, he was surprised to hear a certain someone come up in their dialogue. Beck. What could these guys want with Beck? It made the proxy wary, his claws digging into wet ground beneath him. Beck had been around for a long ass time, and evidently had his own demons that he had to face. It wouldn't have surprised Aurum if he had enemies out there, just waiting to pounce on him. He was about to emerge from the shadows and speak to them, but Beck got there first, the spirit's appearance causing him to pause in his step. Perhaps he should let the other handle this. However, when he heard Beck's shrill and equally wary tone, he felt his resolve return. The feline wasn't letting his identity be known just yet, which hardly served to put Aurum at ease at all, his tail lashing with anxiety behind him as he moved the rest of the way forward. His massive form slipped with surprising ease through the trees as he came to stand beside Beck, eventually taking a seat. He and Beck had never exactly gotten along in the past, but that hardly meant that Aurum hated him. And if this group was here to do the boy harm, then Aurum was as eager as ever to rip them to absolute shreds. Even if Beck would never admit it, he was family to Aurum now, and the angel wasn't one to let family be hurt. Besides, even if the other hadn't been considered family, he was still a fellow tangler. It was his duty as both a tangler and the proxy to protect him, no matter what.

In a moment of silence, Aurum allowed himself to look over the group that had gathered, slightly alarmed by the wide variety of creatures on display. Some were massive, such as the bear and the stag, while others were smaller, but still represented danger, like the snake and the falcon. The lion was sure that if a fight broke out, it was unlikely he would be able to take them all at once, even if he allowed his anger to overtake him. MAMA was strong, yes, but it was far from invincible, and a six on one fight was hardly the best odds in the world. Aurum still allowed himself to formulate a plan, however. If something went wrong, and he needed to, he could always shove Beck towards town and get in front of him. Tell the other to go get Leroy and gather up the rest of the group for a fight... it wasn't a plan that would end well for him, but he didn't care much. At least his children would still have Whisper around to raise them. His one eye darkened in severe thought, Aurum rumbled gruffly after a moment, claws still digging against the earth, "I am quite curious about that question myself, strangers." One wrong move, and there would be no mercy. Aurum couldn't risk anyone getting hurt, not when he could prevent it.

[div style="text-align: right; text-transform: uppercase; text-shadow: 0px 0px 2px #1B1B2F; font-size: 24px;"][color=#44437F]— AURUM

#psychosocial.

[matthew f.]

GET OUT OF THESE HILLS

It was a worrying thing, to reunite with family long gone, for you did not have the knowledge of how they would take it. If you were lucky, they would be accepting and good-natured about it, but if you weren't lucky? you could chance an attack, disbelief, outright refusal. It's not as if Matthew had no knowledge of these things, for he had experience aplenty, but even he could not predict how unknown peoples could react. Violently, peacefully? he had no idea.
It was heartening that his kin, and unknown serpent, were positive about the outcome of this, for he was unsure.

Startling was the appearance of a small feline, bearing a countenance so akin to those around him. It seemed as if he realised it too, for surprised he seemed with mouth agape. The voice of a boy rang from him, a snapshot of frozen youth. How did they know Beck? well, they certainly didn't know him very well yet. Just about to open his mouth to speak, an interruption came in the form of a great beast with anger in his gaze. Muscles taunt and claws raking the earth, the beast seemed ready to strike at a moments notice. Matthew was not ready to give him that notice.

"Good sirs, you may rest your hackles. We rather wish to avoid opposition." It wasn't as if they were unable to take the maned sir on in a duel, but it was rather pleasant to avoid. "We do believe that the one known as 'Beck' is kin to us, a brother. We do not happen to know him yet, for our hope is to reunite."

code by spacexual

[kinglykingstone]

AMBROSE FINCH - male - black bear - immortal - tanglewood

At the sound of soft gasp, the bear's head swung to face the source, eyes laying on the small feline and taking in their appearance. He had begun to open his maw to respond, spilling tails of neglectful parents and abandoned children, another's approach caught his eyes.

As the lion approached from the shadows, Ambrose's eyes would meet the lions single one. He could feel the tense energy radiating off the golden beast and, while it was understandable, he felt the need to make it clear that he would not hesitate to retaliate if the lion stepped out of line.

As he watches Aurum size them up, the bear would shift one of his feet forward, dodging his viper sister with ease as he put himself slightly in front of his siblings. A minor difference but a noticeable one, a warning to the lion that he was willing to protect his companions. He'd keep his gaze one the winged lion, a warning in his gaze. "We are merely travelers and this is my family in search of our missing brother," the bear rumbled, deep voice finally emerging from the ursid. The emphasis on family was a strict warning, though it was not meant to be a threat. He would not at out unless the golden lion did first.