CLAP IF YOU'VE GOT A TICKET TO THE END OF THE WORLD;; open

[trojan g.]

[div style="max-width: 425px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 30px; opacity: 0.70; font-family: verdana; font-size: 11px; padding-top: 10px;"][[ the thoughts in this post/thread are not mine, but are Sweeney's! For development purposes they will likely continue through the whole thread. ]]

Four months, sixteen days, and a number of hours. That's how long it had been since Sweeney and her sisters had been born. She did not remember the day she had been born, nor some short weeks after, but she did remember seeing both of her parents at some point. Though her first and only impression of Jervis had been him being killed in front of her, she remembered seeing him, watching as his eyes found her own as he plead for his life so he could see his children grow up, and he'd been denied that life.

And she remembered Fourthwall, remembered him much more vividly than that of Jervis, remembered how he had taken care of them until one day he didn't anymore. He left them on their own, four children only a few months old, and expected them to thrive in the Pitt, thrive on the island with those that had stripped the children of the right to be with their own father. No matter how bad he'd been to the other groups, they denied them their right to see him, meet him in a place that wasn't his own deathbed. And so she'd seethed.

But she was tired of seething.

The more she had seethed the more she had found the adults around her to push her and her siblings away, the orphaned children. They needed parental figures, and yet those that were old enough to be such decided they weren't their problem, that it was easier just to tell them off over and over again, and boss them around and be rude. Protect their own and forget about those that aren't related by blood. And it made her angrier and angrier. Why did no one care?

Thought swirled around in Sweeney's head as she laid in the outskirts of the desert, close to the burn-scarred and ruined jungle, trying to distract herself by drawing lines in the sand, trying not to cry. She was the oldest Callahan-Fallout child, and she would not cry, she had to be strong for her sister's even if she didn't like one or two of them, even if she felt broken.

[align=center]text | "speech"

[CAESAR CIPHER.]

THERE IS NO LIFE, THERE IS NO SPARK !

CAESAR CIPHER. MALE. THE PITT. DWELLER.

The Pitt was an absolute god damn mess of a group in Caesar's mind. They were practically overrun by children and their leader was an absolute pussy. Caesar was disgusted with what The Pitt had become, and he made it a personal goal of his to make The Pitt feared again. In the way that they should be, and not just some refugee for some pussy-ass pirates. Anger is what fueled him, which was fitting, considering he was a demon, after all.

Rage had always fueled Caesar. He was known for being horribly hot-headed and prone to outbursts, and that's how he has been all his life. Hell, the reason why he destroyed his home dimension was solely because of his rage at the King. He deserved to be known and liked and the King ruined that for him, all because of some stupid prophecy from the shaman who was practically going mad. Ironically enough, he ended up proving that the shaman was right - and that he would be the end to their own. Everything Caesar had done that day had been fueled by his rage, and he ended up killing his parents because of it.

"You look bored as hell." The savannah commented, flicking an ear as he came to stand a couple paces in front of Sweeny. This forest reminded him of the last few hours in his charred home, and to be honest, he was quite comfortable in the forest than he was in The Pitt's actual camp in the desert. "Aren't you a bit far from camp, kid?" Not he particularly cared either way, if he was honest. Hell, he probably wouldn't stop the vultures from getting Sweeny's body if she happened to pass out or whatever.

#psychosocial.

[Mercede]

MERCEDE

[table]
[tr][td]

[/td]
[td]

diamonds are a girl’s bestfriend -

mercede f. callahan
the pitt
2 months


pronounced: (mur-say-dee)

general
female - marble cross fox (white, gray, black) - 2 months - Jervis x Fourthwall - no crush - no mentor

powers
mental manipulation

[/td][/tr][/table]

---

call me your sweet baby —



Did she like her sisters? No. Not a single one of them. She knew they didn’t like her either. It didn’t bother her too much though, she was certain they wasted more of their time thinking of her than she did them.

Even though she didn’t not enjoy the presence of her sisters, she hated Sweeney the least. So she wouldn’t see too much of an issue going to check out what was happening.

Unlike Sweeney, Mercede was not tired of being pissed off and angry. In fact it hadn’t even occurred to her that she was. Didn’t every child feel such rage towards the world? Nor did the girl think they needed a parental figure. There was more glory in rising on your own.

The idea of getting help seemed weak. The idea of having someone show you they way seemed to make your success inferior in comparison to those who didn’t receive guidance. Maybe it was her need to prove herself.

there wasn’t much to do his this forsaken wasteland that could even take her mind off of her woes for even a second. So it would not take long for her to track down her sister along with Caesar. Did she like him? No. Not at all. It worried her that he was around Sweeney.

“Sweeney! What are you doing?”

[sup][w]isker[/sup]

[deimos]

The subject of family to the jaguar was one of an odd subject. Most of the island despised his father. His mother had faded into the shadows, his two sisters? He was unsure of them. But, he had his father. Was that all he had, thought? Just those dwelling thoughts, a father who was distance due to his care of the Pitt- he couldn't blame him for that- and one friend who existed in the clan that still believed the Pitt an enemy? Piers was on his own kind of walk, and having seen the two- no, three- clanmates made him pause.

He was still a good length away, his eyes dwelling on the group of them there. A slow sigh escape him, his head lowering, just about choosing to turn and walk away. Why would he bother interacting with them? But the mix of Caeser with two children chilled him to the bone. The scar on his shoulder made him pause in his steps, instead approaching the group. He sat a ways away, his tail curled around his paw and eyes settled on the group of three in silence.

"SPEECH"