08-14-2023, 01:19 PM
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[div style="margin-bottom: 4px; height: auto; font-family: baskerville; font-size: 26px; letter-spacing: 3px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; color: black;"]OH LORD, DON'T LET ME
BE MISUNDERSTOOD
BE MISUNDERSTOOD
ACTIONS | "SPEAKING" | THINKING | TELEPATHY
// taking place before aesior is MIA
Zjarr had finished licking his wounds after the Typhoon's unexpected raid. He didn't exit the fight without his fair share of injuries, though he determined that none of them were serious enough to render him out of commission for too long. His muscles screamed as he moved, and he felt lethargic from tapping into much of his magical energy. His body wanted to slump down in its place and rest for ages, but his mind was wide awake.
The demon came home to an overwhelming number of questions, starting with the elephant in the room — why would the Typhoon do this in the first place? What had happened between the two clans while he was on the island? He needed time to get caught back up to speed on the mainland affairs. In the meantime, though, he could offer some better news for Aesior.
After a visit to a medic, Zjarr had spent the night in his old cottage in the Tanglewood town. Dust collected on the shelves from lack of use and cleaning, and the trinkets he had set out months ago still remained in their place, perfectly sound. Bottles of liquor sat where they always were, with a glass sitting out next to them. He drank that night, though he was too tired to push his limits as he often did. He only needed enough to get his mind off the pain that shot through his body when he moved, just enough to aid his slumber. Once in a while, he caught himself casting a glance in the room where his children once slept. Their makeshift beds were there still, empty and unmade. No one had been in the room in months. They grew up. They don't gotta stay if they don't wanna.
The resources he brought back from the island were delivered to his cottage, sitting down in the center of the house in a stack. It wasn't everything they harvested from the island; the haul merely served as a taste of what the new land could offer, but it would do for now.
When the sun made its way through the windows of the cottage, Zjarr stirred himself awake and pushed through the door, maneuvering himself to where he remembered Aesior making his residence in. He held his breath for a beat as he stood at the entrance. Would he even be here? He hadn't paid much attention to the Luminary during the battle and wasn't certain about his physical state afterwards. Regardless, it was worth a shot. If he wasn't here, he'd just go out looking for the feline. "Aes. Let's chat, if yer up for it."
Zjarr had finished licking his wounds after the Typhoon's unexpected raid. He didn't exit the fight without his fair share of injuries, though he determined that none of them were serious enough to render him out of commission for too long. His muscles screamed as he moved, and he felt lethargic from tapping into much of his magical energy. His body wanted to slump down in its place and rest for ages, but his mind was wide awake.
The demon came home to an overwhelming number of questions, starting with the elephant in the room — why would the Typhoon do this in the first place? What had happened between the two clans while he was on the island? He needed time to get caught back up to speed on the mainland affairs. In the meantime, though, he could offer some better news for Aesior.
After a visit to a medic, Zjarr had spent the night in his old cottage in the Tanglewood town. Dust collected on the shelves from lack of use and cleaning, and the trinkets he had set out months ago still remained in their place, perfectly sound. Bottles of liquor sat where they always were, with a glass sitting out next to them. He drank that night, though he was too tired to push his limits as he often did. He only needed enough to get his mind off the pain that shot through his body when he moved, just enough to aid his slumber. Once in a while, he caught himself casting a glance in the room where his children once slept. Their makeshift beds were there still, empty and unmade. No one had been in the room in months. They grew up. They don't gotta stay if they don't wanna.
The resources he brought back from the island were delivered to his cottage, sitting down in the center of the house in a stack. It wasn't everything they harvested from the island; the haul merely served as a taste of what the new land could offer, but it would do for now.
When the sun made its way through the windows of the cottage, Zjarr stirred himself awake and pushed through the door, maneuvering himself to where he remembered Aesior making his residence in. He held his breath for a beat as he stood at the entrance. Would he even be here? He hadn't paid much attention to the Luminary during the battle and wasn't certain about his physical state afterwards. Regardless, it was worth a shot. If he wasn't here, he'd just go out looking for the feline. "Aes. Let's chat, if yer up for it."
bio — attack in [b]#f24b00[/b]
✰ — I'M JUST A SOUL WHOSE INTENTIONS ARE GOOD
zjarr ignibus / tanglewood / hellcat / weapons dealer / plot