wishes granted // 【☆】joining【☆】

[Elle]

To me, the word of an old fool like you means less than nothing.

ELLE — FEMALE — PITT — PITTIAN — SERVAL

Good god, she was aging faster than a speeding train.

The serval's footfalls pounded through the marshy environment, the aches of multiple, all-in-one cramps travelling throughout her hind-legs. Her neatly chiseled head craned halfway over her shoulder to peer down at her flanks, and she paused in her tracks briefly to give them each a renewing quiver. Damn. How long had she been walking for at this point? Truth be told it felt like years, despite the fact Elle had endured many such travels similar to this very one. Her muzzle wrinkled back in irritability, revealing an array of polished white fangs. Now, of course, they were polished only because she preferred the method of rinsing them off. Typically the carnassials would just be more evidence to prove the number of kills she had made throughout her days. Just this morning she had managed to fight and eventually take down an ocelot, having gouged its chest with her magnificent black horns. A fine meal, it had been, a fine meal indeed.

But relevantly, Elle had cracked out this distance solely because she was on a... mission, she supposed. Just the teeniest reminding thought made the serval's blood start to boil. Bill, that pathetic fucker, had kicked her out, and it had all been thanks to Beatrix Kiddo. The serval spat out her disgust, a wad of saliva dampening the preliminarily moist dirt. She had to find a new refuge, thanks to the moronic pair. Ugh, good god she was growing sick already of all this... pointless walking. Nevertheless, only because the serval had oftentimes overheard of this cannibalistic clique which she was making her way toward, Elle had decided upon making her potential "home" there.

Once she had came to stop at the borders, the feline paused in her footsteps and sat back on her haunches, whiskers quivering impatiently. She would sit here and anticipate her escort. It may take an eon or two, but so long as it provided her a new shelter she was willing to take the risk. And, well, it wasn't like Elle hadn't taken plenty of risks before, anyway.

#psychosocial.

[aine.]

[table][tr][td]

AINE NÍ BROIN
FLESHWEAVER
FAE DRUID
INFORMATION

[/td][td]

[div style="width: 360px; font-family: palatino; color: #2e8b57; text-align: left; padding-top: 15px; padding-left: 10px"]I'LL C[color=#36829c]OME BACK WHEN YOU CALL ME

The sound of footfalls pulls the petite deer-fox out of her work.  Hooves gently pushing and organizing some gathered aloe and gumweed sitting within her satchel.  Her ears perked.  She let the air flow through her nose for a second, finding no recognizable clan scent in the breeze.  A complete stranger.

Her wings shuffled at her sides as she trotted forward.  Waiting, just sitting on the border, Aine supposed they might be a joiner.  She didn't like jumping to conclusions though.  Hazel hues flicker, thoughtfully, curious.  Antsy.  She hoped they were a joiner.

"Salut," she offered softly.  "Um- who're you, 'an what brings you here?"  Aine smiled, albeit shyly.

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

© MADI

[Elle]

To me, the word of an old fool like you means less than nothing.

ELLE — FEMALE — PITT — PITTIAN — SERVAL

The spotted feline's remaining blue eye constricted to better get a view of the advancing little blur before her. Her ears pricked forward, the tips rotating as the fox-looking creature had piqued their interest. "Salut," she repeated softly, then huffed to herself, chest puffing out. Intriguing word indeed. Short for salutations, perhaps. Hmph. "Joining, yes. I was... Looking to join your.... group of sorts." And supposedly this tiny deer-mutant was potentially a cannibal? Elle tried hard to hide the perplexion that was oozing in her gut. Huh.

#psychosocial.

[Kold]

Kold - female - Wolf/Rottweiler - 5 months - Pittian

The wolf-rottie was soon to arrive, body bright against the desert aside from her one black paw. Black eyes centered on the newcomer, tilting her head. Her rosy boa was nestled on her back, hidden from view. Coming up next to Aine, she sniffed at Elle. "Who?" She spoke sharply, sitting down on her haunches. "Why come to Eternity?" Again, that term for the desert stuck to her like water. Eternity. Only because it felt like the desert went on forever. Obviously, it didn't but to a child, so many things were infinite.

"Speech"

[Elle]

To me, the word of an old fool like you means less than nothing.

ELLE — FEMALE — PITT — PITTIAN — SERVAL

A facade of haughty-looking stoicness had draped itself over her physiognomy as another, more younger creature came stumbling on over. The couple of questions that then proceeded to flood her from the tiny canine caused her ears to prick erect, muzzle peeling back. Irritated - she was very, very irritated. Couldn't these two bozos come pick her up and just... take her into their camp or whatever? It really wasn't all that loaded an expectation. And the word that the lupine animal had implemented to describe their inquiry perplexed Elle, quite truthfully, though only for a brief second. Chances were they were referring to the environment which surrounded them. Good god, she couldn't just make use of the typical everyday word? Huh. "Why are you asking, eh, pup?" The words practically oozed with arrogance, her figure tipping forward as she let her breath billow in on the young canine's face.

#psychosocial.

[gael]

[align=center]

♛ GAEL Ó BROIN

"Common sense," the vulpine spoke, voice in different as he arrived on scene.

Hazel optics narrowed, unimpressed, on the serval and her arrogant dismissal of the simple question.  The Ardent had little desire to simply allow someone to waltz in without offering some form of introduction or identification.

"If you truly wish to call the Pitt your home, then your new clanmates should have something to call you by."  He inclined his head, expectantly -- patience setting his body relaxed and still.

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

[Elle]

To me, the word of an old fool like you means less than nothing.

ELLE — FEMALE — PITT — PITTIAN — SERVAL

Elle watched calmly as another figure approached, this one as well harnessing the appearance of a vulpine of sorts. The words only surprised her by the slightest, what with the faintest of irritated flinches that flickered across her spotted face. Her jaws expanded then clamped on a yawn as she spoke. "I suppose you're right," she concurred. "The name is Elle. I come seeking... shelter, and a new home, considering my old one didn't seem to have wanted any assets in their environment." She bit back an additional their loss, having figured she would probably have better chances when remaining as formal as possible. Chances were this little dog was their leader, and despite the fact she had only just met the dude Elle was in no mood to disappoint anyone.

#psychosocial.

[Kold]

Kold - female - Wolf/Rottweiler - 5 months - Pittian

The pup bit back a growl as the serval spoke, merely squinting at her as Gael arrived. Her pet moved and rested it's head upon her own, giving her the slightest bit of comfort. So the newcomer was named Elle? She looked a little less than an 'Elle', honestly. She sniffed again before introducing herself, "Kold." She flicked her ears a bit. Gently, she moved her head back to persuade her snake to hide again.

"Speech"

[VALE]

[align=center]

graphic gore ★ genderfluid ★ gore serval

A leggy abomination scuttled over, something resembling a serval with far too many legs. Some were short stumps jutting out of Vale’s back. Others operated as fully functional limbs, holding up part of Vale’s weight as the creature walked across the sands. Their pawsteps were light and barely left a trail, due to the weight distribution across all the limbs.

However, Vale tired of this body, just as Vale tired of all bodies eventually. The limbs CRACKED, splintering off and landing in the sand. The limbs, , oozing puss and rusty liquid, deteriorated the moment they left Vale’s body. The sand became a discolored, gory mess, not that Vale noticed or cared. Red sores, left where the limbs had fallen off, coated the feline’s body, and the creature appeared more flesh than black fur.

“HI! there.” Vale curled vis upper lip and raised one of vis remaining two forelimbs to pick at vis fangs. A bit of gunk got in there, probably from eating one of the rotting limbs on the way over. The disgusting fluids dripped down Vale’s throat and chest, but Vale never bothered cleaning off that. The teeth! The teeth mattered more than the fur.

“I am Vale Aston. Pleasure to meet you, Ell-the-Bell. Don’t mind me, just eating my own leg over here.” To prove the point, Vale picked up one of the fallen legs and began munching on it. Ah, delicious flesh. Nothing like eating your homegrown meat!

YOU NEVER TRUSTED ME ★
BUT I’M OVER IT NOW
[sub][W]isker[/sub]

[Elle]

To me, the word of an old fool like you means less than nothing.

ELLE — FEMALE — PITT — PITTIAN — SERVAL

Kold. Huh. Interesting name, interesting indeed.

The serval's horned head cocked to a side yet again as some figure — a fourth, this one was - meandered forward. Her ears pricked forward as along came with it the sounds of a hideous gnashing, followed by a couple crunches. Sounded, quite truthfully, as though someone were feasting on a bone.

Or perhaps their own.

As the ghastly thing neared, Elle found herself cringing. Not in fear, but rather in... disgust. Her eyes flicked briefly, for the merest of seconds, toward Kold, then to the assumed group leader, as she stared up at this.... monstrosity of an entity. "Uhm." He — She? — seemed relatively friendly, that could, at the very least, be presumed. Yet they seemed to take no notice to the fact they were, probably, permanently scarring themselves with their actions. And Elle's response to all of this? Her nose crinkled back in distaste as she parted her maw.

"Uhm, that really is, uhm... Very unnatural of you, I must say." An unfortunate thing to admit, as Elle was in no way looking for these creatures to mistake her distaste for fright.

#psychosocial.