i will continue to watch you rot . / joining

[IMPACT .]

I    WANT    TO    BE    RUINED
A    LITTLE    MORE    THAN    I    WANT    TO    BE    LOVED    .

drux  missio  .

[div style="width: 105%; max-height: 400px; overflow: auto; font-family: arial;Margin:auto font-size: 10pt; color: #3e3e3e; text-align: justify; padding-left: 25px; padding-right:50px; padding-top: 5px; padding-bottom: 10px;"]he's tired.    the  heat  seems  to  sink  right  through  his  fur  akin  to  water  ;  soaking  through  to  the  bone  ,  enveloping  and  lingering  .  the  weight  of  his  tongue  lolls  like  cotton  against  his  fangs  ,  a  dry  thing  as  mutant  yawns  .  every  step  leaves  prints  behind  ,  paw  pads  as  obvious  tracks      but  that  was  on  whatever  fool  decided  to  follow  beast  into  the  desert  .

it's  a  mutant  that  lopes  through  the  wavering  heat  ,  looking  more  akin  to  a  lion  than  anything  .  less  bulk  and  more  lean  muscle  and  frame  ,  the  length  of  a  sun - kissed  mane  travels  down  the  intruder's  back  ,  low  to  his  spine  .  short  curling  horns  grace  a  sharp  crown  on  his  skull  ,  and  scales  scatter  among  fur  akin  to  stars  .  dappled  ,  sensitive  ,  drippings  of  black  to  such  bronze  fur  .

an  intimidating  sight  ,  perhaps  once  .  but  now  ?  he  pants  in  the  stretching  day  as  drux  plods  along  feeling  more  like  a  limp  weight  than  a  fearsome  beast  ,  almost  desperate  to  collapse  .  the  desert  had  to  end  soon  ;  and  with  it  ,  someplace  to  stay  .  anywhere, but where he'd come from. 

[gael]

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♛ GAEL Ó BROIN

At the very beginning, the desert had been an escape -- a place far from where they came from.  In many ways, it remained as such, though following a year, it was more like home.  A strange home, littered with intriguing faces; one the Imperator felt inclined to protect.  Especially now, as the desert called for blood; the faerie did not wish to them fall.

Tricking his ears as he trotted on a familiar route, Gael let his hazel eyes pause and narrow on a newcomer.  His molten coat burned in the light of the sun -- the stranger clearly felt the same wrath.  All those who ventured onto the sands in the middle of the day, the Imperator felt inclined to call them more foolish than brave.  On that note, he saw some determination there too; perseverance.

Whatever the case be with the mutant lion he approached would be seen soon enough.  The faerie came to a halt, direct gaze analyzing the stranger before he spoke.  "Who are you and why have you come here?"

"I AM A STONE" —-- gael ó broin / faerie / imperator / lamby

[VIRGIL M.]

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XVIII - THE MOON

a monument dreams and fantasies come to life, the representation of instincts often left suppressed and a knock into our subconscious.  Virgil of the pitt is a study in beauty: a perfect understanding of that which terrifies you, a perfect picturesque of horror and delight

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the earth under their feet shatters; in the far off distance of tan dunes and a tundra made unto hell- the visage is broken by the singular shape of a stranger. The oddness is benign, a wonder one part curiosity and two parts caution. Virgil is swayed closer towards the border, breaking free of the foliage of the jungle and coming to the edges of the flesh-wall erected: a mass of rot that stretch their lands. The sign to anyone looking that this is the place many will either join or die. Either you are prey or you are one of us. Sickly green hues narrowed down on the lion ( or was it a lion, what was perceived to Virgil was different than everyone else, and an aura so dreary hung around the other- reminded them of a thick bushel of hemlock berries ) the cock in their head as the whelp made an approach to side next to Gael.

"A sense unlike the rot clings to you, stranger" Virgil greets in a strange warning, her eyes narrowed thoughtful, but the smile along her maw was more than teeth. Sparks of excitement displayed under the wire-cord of their thick fur. "Yet you don't smell of here, hmm" There was a glance, towards the Vicar Ardent, but their gaze turned back towards the stranger soon enough, color her curious, color her mystified, someone so alike to these lands showing up at their border, yet the land around them were silent: withholding judgement.

[DANTE NORTHWEST.]

[glow=white,1,400]SO JUST GET BUZZED AND STAY FUCKED UP ! — ｡+ﾟ.[/glow]

The heat was fucking awful, and this was coming from a creature that was half-supposed to be a land-dweller. Perhaps that was why he hated the desert so damn much; it irritated his gills and made him crave water much more than your average Pittian. That being said, Dante knew he had a duty to be out here, whether it be patrolling the border or hunting, and so he decided to get off of his lazy ass for once and do just that.

Dante came to stand next to Virgil, frowning as he registered the stranger before them. "The fuck're you?" The hybrid huffed, a disgusted look on his face. Perhaps it was hypocritical coming from him, but of course he didn't really give a damn. "You're a petty ass excuse for a lion." The horns and scales were something to note, of course, but what mattered to Dante was how the guy was presenting himself now, and the pathetic look of Drux (whose name he didn't know, of course) didn't help matters.[glow=COLOR,1,400] ━ ✧*:･ﾟ[/glow]