06-09-2024, 08:31 PM
APOSTLE MALUS-HARBRINGER - male - lion - tags - profile
![[Image: pEeXKGc.png]](https://i.imgur.com/pEeXKGc.png)
Apostle's head raised as he felt the air stir with the beat of Nord's wings, the sound of his voice ringing in his eardrums. He didn't often show his face for things like this. Too many people, too much happening that Apostle struggled to keep up with. It made him itch, made him want to squirm, made him hope the ground would open up beneath him and swallow him whole, or at least that he could crawl out of his own skin and hide somewhere else.
Logically speaking, he knew nobody was paying any attention to him. It didn't matter all that much, though; he still felt their imaginary gazes, his fur still prickled with unease. He'd only come this time because it was the first one in, well, a while, and he sort of felt like he should rather than really wanted to. He had to try his hardest to focus on what Nord was actually saying rather than the imaginary stares of those around him.
He didn't care much for any of it, really. A call to apply for high ranks and positions was the least of Apostle's problems, he didn't like being in social situations at all, least of all being in the spotlight like that, but it itched at an urge in his mind that he longed to forget; the instinctive need to make Ninazu and Stryker proud, in ways he knew they would be of Romulus, and Vale, and... And Sojourn.
He did his best to force those thoughts away, too.
Likewise, he was similarly uninterested in the Call of the Hunt. The fight had left Apostle a long time ago, after his parents had died. Before he abandoned his family because he was too ashamed to face the guilt of being unable to save his mom and dad. His gaze cast downwards. He would participate, if he had to; his claws still knew how to cut through flesh well enough, his teeth still knew how to pierce, muscles still ached with the strain of battles long since passed. He could fight. He'd rather not, but, well, he had to do his part.
He held his breath for a moment as Nord called for volunteers to visit the other groups. His skin itched. He didn't want to go, didn't like social situations and he liked strangers even less, if truth was to be told! But...
"I can visit the Descendants," he choked out, ignoring the way his brain immediately began screaming at him. Why did he speak!? Now they were looking! He didn't want them to look! "It'd be safer if I go." Because, Well, Vale; but he didn't feel like saying that, and he didn't think anyone else really had to know, either.
Logically speaking, he knew nobody was paying any attention to him. It didn't matter all that much, though; he still felt their imaginary gazes, his fur still prickled with unease. He'd only come this time because it was the first one in, well, a while, and he sort of felt like he should rather than really wanted to. He had to try his hardest to focus on what Nord was actually saying rather than the imaginary stares of those around him.
He didn't care much for any of it, really. A call to apply for high ranks and positions was the least of Apostle's problems, he didn't like being in social situations at all, least of all being in the spotlight like that, but it itched at an urge in his mind that he longed to forget; the instinctive need to make Ninazu and Stryker proud, in ways he knew they would be of Romulus, and Vale, and... And Sojourn.
He did his best to force those thoughts away, too.
Likewise, he was similarly uninterested in the Call of the Hunt. The fight had left Apostle a long time ago, after his parents had died. Before he abandoned his family because he was too ashamed to face the guilt of being unable to save his mom and dad. His gaze cast downwards. He would participate, if he had to; his claws still knew how to cut through flesh well enough, his teeth still knew how to pierce, muscles still ached with the strain of battles long since passed. He could fight. He'd rather not, but, well, he had to do his part.
He held his breath for a moment as Nord called for volunteers to visit the other groups. His skin itched. He didn't want to go, didn't like social situations and he liked strangers even less, if truth was to be told! But...
"I can visit the Descendants," he choked out, ignoring the way his brain immediately began screaming at him. Why did he speak!? Now they were looking! He didn't want them to look! "It'd be safer if I go." Because, Well, Vale; but he didn't feel like saying that, and he didn't think anyone else really had to know, either.