bleach // meet & greet

[Nathanael.]

[align=center][div style="borderwidth=0px; width: 55%; line-height:115%; text-align: justify;"]dying is easy, young man, living is harder — Time heals all wounds. What a stupid fucking saying, but Nathanael could not deny the truth to it. If a wound did not kill you it would, in due time, eventually suture itself together. Actually waiting was the painful part, expecting rend flesh to knit itself back together and having to twiddle his thumbs in the meantime. What it did do was give Nathanael the perfect reason to lock himself away. It had been almost a month since Nathanael stumbled across Tanglewood's boundary mortally wounded, and with the delicate attention of their medics (although, mostly, his own desire to not bite the dust) he had survived. Somehow, someway, with more new scars than he had teeth in his mouth. Despite his initial hostilities while first "joining", Nathanael knew better than to let his temper get the best of him while he had acted as a stowaway for the past weeks. He knew he owed them something, something he could not give. His sense of loyalty was warped from defending those one loved into bloodshed in the name of self-defense, a selfish nature of no use to Tanglewood. Far from charming, Nathanael could not simply woo the others with smiles and convince them with slick words that he was worth keeping around. Nathanael did not want to get involved in this community, having escaped one system to fall straight into another one, but at the very least this one was much more... civil. Nathanael could, at the very least, try to fit in.

The sun sat in the cradle of late morning when he finally emerged from his abode, stormwater eyes flicking around him in an almost nervous fashion. He hated feeling so weak, surrounded by so many others - so much that he was powerless to. Ragged ears rotated back as he drew in a breath of thick bog air, an earthy must so different from the burn of the city in his lungs. Wrapped legs came to a slow stop as Nathanael lowered himself into a sit, gaze wandering down briefly to the aged bandages winding around his healed wounds. Scars, now. He ought to take them off later.

"... Name's Nathanael." The smooth collie introduced himself to his surroundings, slender face raising to survey the area. An odd look or two from passersby (what he'd give to wipe that entitled expression off their fucking faces, he wasn't a circus show), but nothing extraordinary. Blunt claws toyed with the soil beneath his paws, anxious for a physical way of relieving his accumulating stress. "I joined a while back ago, but I'm just now gettin' to know you all so," a pause, "yeah." Fucking brilliant. Having to introduce himself in such a way was degrading, chipping away at the nerves Nathanael had built up to do this in the first place. But he couldn't back out now. "How 'bout this: you ask me a question about me, and I'll ask you a question about you." The potential for this to backfire spectacularly on him was an ever-present option in his mind, but it was far too late to back out now. "Or just let me ask somethin' about you anyways." Might as well get to know his new "Clanmates" at the cost of his dignity.

/ me @ 4:30am: ah yes let's make a return thread how could this possibly go wrong