LOVE YOURSELF TO DEATH | o, joining

[FELIKS]

FELIKS — SNOWBOUND

There were many reasons to loathe those with conscious thoughts and the male had practically made a career of such despite. Going after those with wicked intentions had only brought agony onto those he sought to protect, but until backs were turned on him and it had been done out of the good of his heart. Unethical practices became targets of criticism once the bad guys had been brought to justice, and the world had found another villain to put in the spotlight - himself. Because of who he loved, because of his talkative nature, because he wasn't exactly the most moral of enemies, all culminating in a quick death and reincarnation. Things felt different than they had done previously, but with 5 years of life experience as 'Feliks' and an innate ability to not be phased by new things, an apathetic approach to loyalties reared its head in other aspects of his life. The snow crunching underneath the lion-sized griffon's paws caused a loathsome bellow to emerge from the bowels of his voice box, bad memories coming back to him as he shuffled across the land.

He half expected to see enemies surrounding him again, roaring their treacherous words as if they were meant a damn, and as a small chill bit at his spine his whole body shuddered with the memories. A sigh escaped his golden beak. Right, their opinions didn't matter anymore, they were all dead or damned, Feliks had to figure out a way to move past those many, many horrors. He raised his head proudly, confidence rushing off of him as he reared to try and see more of the flat alpines that he'd stumbled across. Nothing, too many blurred pine trees for him to be able to get a clear sight line. He'd have to find a way to compensate for such short-sightedness some way without getting some ugly spectacles, but it was just another thing that the male would have to figure out. Gods, he had so much to do, why couldn't everything just be so much easier? He'd give up sobriety if it meant just not being harrassed by such complicated needs. His hind leg still stung slightly as well in his cold, old and ugly scarring covering his whole knee up. Lovely.

"So before anyone has a hissyfit about me trespassing or whatever, just know that I'm here to join this place. Name's Feliks, don't know jack about ya culture..." I don't even know your name. "So if someone could scoot on over and give me the rundown of what I'm supposed to do then that'd be perfect,". Those related to birds weren't known for their keen senses of smells, but it didn't take a bloodhound to figure out that this place was occupied. Old tracks were settled on the ground from a variety of different animals, and unless all of the predators of the world decided to have a coalition then some sort of group lived here. "Name's Feliks by the way," he cawed in that raspy voice of his.

© MADI