07-29-2018, 11:09 PM
[align=center][div style="borderwidth=0px; width: 55%; line-height:115%; text-align: justify;font-family: calibri;"]// don't mind me posting before Des is even accepted :^) im hype to start with him
Death was not an uncommon occurrence, especially not in a place such as this. Especially not in the mortal plane to begin with. It was simply nature, how things worked - some did it to survive, others out of cruelty, but these days only gods and those who called themselves the equivalent prevailed.
Des was neither of them, and the scars that littered his body told of all the times he had flirted with death just a little bit too close. He could care less, in the end, for it gave him the thrill that all the substances he used to use just didn't give him anymore. At least during the moments closest to his possible death he felt the most alive, and the terror, hope and fury all mixed into one hell of a drug that made the adrenaline course through his veins and eventually kept him alive for longer.
He knew not of who had died here, of who didn't. He had only appeared before the gate about a day before Owen had, exhausted less by his journey and more by life itself. As a result, he didn't much care about what happened before this. He was in no position to judge anyways: he'd killed more people than he could count, and half of them were nameless faces that continued to haunt him to this day.
Lilkewise, he didn't know about the different groups that existed yet. The scent that clung to Owen's fur meant little to Des, so his movements were unhurried and untroubled as he padded over upon catching onto both the sound and scent of someone new. Heterochromic eyes settled on the group, but eventually settled on Owen when he deemed the two raptors behind him less worthy of his interest (as strange as it sounded.) "Hey," he drawled, eventually coming to a halt a safe distance away from all of them with a flick of his tail in greeting. "Gonna go out on a whim and assume you've got business here?"
Death was not an uncommon occurrence, especially not in a place such as this. Especially not in the mortal plane to begin with. It was simply nature, how things worked - some did it to survive, others out of cruelty, but these days only gods and those who called themselves the equivalent prevailed.
Des was neither of them, and the scars that littered his body told of all the times he had flirted with death just a little bit too close. He could care less, in the end, for it gave him the thrill that all the substances he used to use just didn't give him anymore. At least during the moments closest to his possible death he felt the most alive, and the terror, hope and fury all mixed into one hell of a drug that made the adrenaline course through his veins and eventually kept him alive for longer.
He knew not of who had died here, of who didn't. He had only appeared before the gate about a day before Owen had, exhausted less by his journey and more by life itself. As a result, he didn't much care about what happened before this. He was in no position to judge anyways: he'd killed more people than he could count, and half of them were nameless faces that continued to haunt him to this day.
Lilkewise, he didn't know about the different groups that existed yet. The scent that clung to Owen's fur meant little to Des, so his movements were unhurried and untroubled as he padded over upon catching onto both the sound and scent of someone new. Heterochromic eyes settled on the group, but eventually settled on Owen when he deemed the two raptors behind him less worthy of his interest (as strange as it sounded.) "Hey," he drawled, eventually coming to a halt a safe distance away from all of them with a flick of his tail in greeting. "Gonna go out on a whim and assume you've got business here?"
♔ — I want brimstone in my garden