10-17-2018, 12:23 AM
//sksksks i’m sleep deprived so this fucking sucks soRRY && mobile
☁ Christ, his head hurt. The lump of sandy fur at Bubonicplague’s paws stirred slightly, a soft groan escaping Pierce’s jaws as he blinked open honey eyes. He was still for just half a second more, cloudy mind clearing rapidly as he blinked the grogginess out of his eyes. Voices, there were voices. The serval tensed as the scent of the Ascendants registered in his mind, scrambling up into a less vulnerable position as his breathing became heavier, his heart beginning to hammer almost immediately. He hadn’t been involved very much with the drama between Sunhaven and their former ally that was the Ascendants. He’d only been there two or three times, the last time being the time when he accompanied Buckingham and Marina to speak with Bastilleprisoner. After that, everything went to shit - how, he wasn’t entirely sure -, and next thing he knew, they were pronounced enemies and Bucky was launching a raid on the other clan. It had all been too much for him, with his responsibilities with the clan and personal issues combined, so he’d blocked it all out. When his mental health started on its downward spiral, he had stepped down from Goldenblood and isolated himself from the rest of the clan, to tend to his home and busy himself with painting and flower-picking and all those artsy little “Pierce” things. He’d been entirely oblivious to all the goings-ons in the clan, and, apparently, his own surroundings, which was how he’d gotten himself into this mess.
Pierce wasn’t weak. Not emotionally, and certainly not physically. He had been trained for months in the art of stealth and observance and had been in enough battles, raids, and wars to know to be aware of his surroundings, and how to defend himself. The only explanation he could come up with for his current situation was that he was rusty. He was a dad now, and had been dedicating the majority of his time to his daughter and his artwork.
As his vision cleared, the former Goldenblood looked over those around him, surrounding him. Even if he wanted to run for it - which he was a bit too careful to do -, he couldn’t. "W-woah there, g-g-guys," Pierce managed to force out, chest tight and words coming out rather broken up. He hated the way his voice sounded, hated it, how high and shaky it got whenever threatened, and no matter what. It’d been like that for over a year now, after the incident that had left him with the large brand on his shoulder, his stutter emerging only when he needed to sound strong and assertive and not like himself at all. The quiver in his voice was a sign of weakness, and he was not weak, but there was no avoiding it. "You- you don’t w-wanna hurt me, d-do you? I h-have a daughter at home. A little g-girl. She- she’s all alone.” What would Clementine think, waking up to an empty home? Would she assume he had left her again? Surely, these people would understand a child’s need for their parent, right? They were enemies with Sunhaven, but they were still supposed to be good people- well, not according to the higher-ups in his clan, but they were a passive clan, last he checked, and the people he’d met from here had been pretty nice. "Please," he went on, trying not to think of the glint of a previous captor’s blade or the heat of the branding iron right by his skin as he addressed Moonmade and Bub. He could feel the tears that stung his eyes now, threatening to spill down scarred cheeks. "I’ve n-never done anything to any of you g-guys, I s-s-swear." He’d never even thought of it. He’d never liked Bucky much, and hadn’t it just been that one Ascendant girl to attack him? Though- hadn’t someone from their clan killed a vendor in Sunhaven? Or maybe that had been the Typhoon or the Pitt or something- his memory really was getting bad.
"speech"
☁ Christ, his head hurt. The lump of sandy fur at Bubonicplague’s paws stirred slightly, a soft groan escaping Pierce’s jaws as he blinked open honey eyes. He was still for just half a second more, cloudy mind clearing rapidly as he blinked the grogginess out of his eyes. Voices, there were voices. The serval tensed as the scent of the Ascendants registered in his mind, scrambling up into a less vulnerable position as his breathing became heavier, his heart beginning to hammer almost immediately. He hadn’t been involved very much with the drama between Sunhaven and their former ally that was the Ascendants. He’d only been there two or three times, the last time being the time when he accompanied Buckingham and Marina to speak with Bastilleprisoner. After that, everything went to shit - how, he wasn’t entirely sure -, and next thing he knew, they were pronounced enemies and Bucky was launching a raid on the other clan. It had all been too much for him, with his responsibilities with the clan and personal issues combined, so he’d blocked it all out. When his mental health started on its downward spiral, he had stepped down from Goldenblood and isolated himself from the rest of the clan, to tend to his home and busy himself with painting and flower-picking and all those artsy little “Pierce” things. He’d been entirely oblivious to all the goings-ons in the clan, and, apparently, his own surroundings, which was how he’d gotten himself into this mess.
Pierce wasn’t weak. Not emotionally, and certainly not physically. He had been trained for months in the art of stealth and observance and had been in enough battles, raids, and wars to know to be aware of his surroundings, and how to defend himself. The only explanation he could come up with for his current situation was that he was rusty. He was a dad now, and had been dedicating the majority of his time to his daughter and his artwork.
As his vision cleared, the former Goldenblood looked over those around him, surrounding him. Even if he wanted to run for it - which he was a bit too careful to do -, he couldn’t. "W-woah there, g-g-guys," Pierce managed to force out, chest tight and words coming out rather broken up. He hated the way his voice sounded, hated it, how high and shaky it got whenever threatened, and no matter what. It’d been like that for over a year now, after the incident that had left him with the large brand on his shoulder, his stutter emerging only when he needed to sound strong and assertive and not like himself at all. The quiver in his voice was a sign of weakness, and he was not weak, but there was no avoiding it. "You- you don’t w-wanna hurt me, d-do you? I h-have a daughter at home. A little g-girl. She- she’s all alone.” What would Clementine think, waking up to an empty home? Would she assume he had left her again? Surely, these people would understand a child’s need for their parent, right? They were enemies with Sunhaven, but they were still supposed to be good people- well, not according to the higher-ups in his clan, but they were a passive clan, last he checked, and the people he’d met from here had been pretty nice. "Please," he went on, trying not to think of the glint of a previous captor’s blade or the heat of the branding iron right by his skin as he addressed Moonmade and Bub. He could feel the tears that stung his eyes now, threatening to spill down scarred cheeks. "I’ve n-never done anything to any of you g-guys, I s-s-swear." He’d never even thought of it. He’d never liked Bucky much, and hadn’t it just been that one Ascendant girl to attack him? Though- hadn’t someone from their clan killed a vendor in Sunhaven? Or maybe that had been the Typhoon or the Pitt or something- his memory really was getting bad.
"speech"