THE BAFFLED KING COMPOSING HALLELUJAH | open, finding food

[Zjarr]

[div style="width: 45%; line-height: 14px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 13px;"]"Yeah, I can help y'all out too, I guess. Better than eatin' ourselves. We don't need to become the next Donner Party." The distinct form of the cyborg wolf now appeared beside the gathering group, a tired yet somewhat concerned frown upon his jaws. He himself wasn't particularly hungry—rarely did he actually eat, in all honesty. When he did decide to consume something, he ate in particularly large amounts and offered any leftovers to those around him unless the meal was exceedingly exquisite. That being said, he saw no use in fighting his Clanmates over the little scraps and crumbs of food that could be found stashed in the Observatory somewhere (hopefully).

With all contact to the outside world completely lost, Zjarr figured that the cold hands of insanity would soon touch his entrapped comrades sooner or later, and for once he felt thankful that they were near him and that he was making an effort to reach out to them. If he was going to die here, at least he wasn't to die alone and truly maddened through some classic case of social isolation.

Glancing over at the younger members inquiring what a "bastard" was, the demon forced himself to stifle an amused chuckle or his desperate attempt to scream "ME" at the top of his lungs. "A bastard is a prick and a prick is sometimes a bastard. That's all y'all gotta know."

[glow=#f24b00,2,300]how'd it get so scandalous?[/glow] — ☼