11-04-2018, 11:49 PM
[div style="margin: 0 auto; border-width:0; width: 70%; text-align: justify; line-height: 1.5; font-family: arial; font-size: 9pt;"]He was happy with where his life was at. He thought himself to be rather healthy with his realist point of views and his stable mental condition. Although he wasn’t exactly close to his parents, never mentioning them unless the time called for it, but it also wasn’t a sign that he had a bad relationship with them. He simply outgrew his parents, leaving their care and choosing to live a life of solitude. Well, that was how things had been for most of his life. It always consisted of walking, wandering to foreign lands and letting his paws take him wherever. He never had a problem with the traveling, the excess sound that sometimes gave him headaches, the new weather he had to get used to. It was the fatigue that slowly crept up to him, his boredom that enveloped his body. Somehow, the more he walked, the more alone he felt. He had no one to share his world with. He might be able to hear the stories of other passing merchants on the road to nowhere, the road to elsewhere, but even then, he still felt contained within his own bubble. He felt unentertained by the unpredictable but instead found that inevitable struck him with a sense of awe, a sense of wonder.
It would only take so long before he knew that he would be itching for something refreshing soon. Not even the universe knew when exactly he would become sick of this social life, pack up his belongings and leave for the road again. Perhaps this process would continue like routine, a farce day after day. He simply wanted to live and be entertained. He didn’t need words of appraisal. They were warm, but they weren’t needed. But he also didn’t need bundles of negativity. Perry was fine with what he had. In fact, he was quite content in having joined the Rosebloods. Although he thought their customs and practices to be very different, the rainforest to be dangerous and intimidating, it was worthwhile exploring about and understanding. It gave him, something to do and he didn’t have to worry about food. There was plenty here, conveniently not bombarded by rows of meat because it supported his vegetarian preferences.
The ground was rumbling with movement, tremoring by the number of feet hammering against it, soldier-like as faces intertwined and blurred. The crowd was filing into the area like the flow of water, gently but confidently streaming, trickling. Perry was amongst the crowd, unaccustomed to walking within large groups as his eyes darted quickly about the room, ping-ponging off the walls. He bites his bottom lip, nibbling almost nervously if it weren’t for the fact that he found a place to sit so quickly, positioned right in middle. It would be easy not to recognise him within the sea of creatures, especially considering the Rosebloods was so full of the mass of colours that decorated each and every one of their members. He shudders a little at the resonate purr of Sephiroth, the rolling tone of the Lord’s voice. The lion was surely a confident one, radiating with a pride that felt condescending to the coyote who never really felt any concern for his reputation. Although he didn’t care how others viewed him, he didn’t like to be belittled. It rubbed him the wrong way, but he had a feeling the charismatic voice of Sephiroth didn’t hold any ill intent. He was merely being judgemental.
Perry was unsure how to respond to the welcome, not knowing if the leader expected him to stand up when his name was called or thank the other during the meeting. He had a feeling it was just for show, an acknowledgement to all the newcomers to prove that Sephiroth had been paying attention to the news around him. Well, he could commend the feline for having remembered so many names. Perry not only would have stumbled over them but probably missed a face or two. If he counted correctly there were about ten names that had been called out. Provided he wasn’t secretly atrocious at recognising tone, it sounded that the male was rather happy to have them all here. He would have thought the influx of joiners would be stressful but now he realises that perhaps the main reason the Rosebloods seemed so mysterious and quiet was because there were so little of them. He happened to arrive within a turning point, the peak of a mountain, ready to tip and fall.
The comment of a traditional orientation sparked interest within the coyote. Drink. His gaze glistens towards the chalices, unable to see what was inside. Still, with the brief pause the Lord offered them, he fumbles over to take it. He doesn’t look at the liquid, the crimson that was shaking at the walls of the cup until he sits down. It reminded him of wine, but it didn’t exactly smell like it. He wasn’t sure if it was because his nose was blocked. He would have imagined it to smell sweet or like blood, cautious when he takes a closer sniff. Perhaps to an onlooker he would look paranoid, not immediately drinking it as if he didn’t trust the Rosebloods. The truth was, he didn’t. He hadn’t built up enough of a connection to the group, only knowing a few names didn’t allow him to feel any detachments. The coyote felt like a casual observer, watching and waiting for things to occur. He was, after all, still in the process of settling in himself. Maybe once he was finished with finding a place to stay and restocking his book collection, he will start to be more active.
Sephiroth wasn’t waiting for anyone when he began to move on, Perry’s fur bristling when he realised he had yet to drink from the chalice. Quickly, and whilst the other was talking about identity, he downed the drink with squeezed shut eyes. The canine realised just how much of a mistake it was when he felt himself gagging, doing his best to keep quiet, paws over his mouth. He needed to cough after having attempted to swallow and breathe at the same time. Luckily, no sound could be heard but to anyone sitting nearby him, they would see the way the coyote’s body would shudder and shake from his attempts to clear his throat from the awful sensation. When the sensation finally subsided, he finally noticed the tangy but sweet taste of the drink, not particularly liking it considering he had almost choked right then and there. His ears perk immediately forward, the male doing his best to rewind on what he had heard. Identity, they needed a stable identity. Perry didn’t have anything for or against the lion’s statement, wincing at the remaining feeling that sat in his neck. He had only just joined so therefore didn’t get a feel of what exactly the Rosebloods stood for.
Mercenary system. He didn’t even know that there was one implemented. He certainly didn’t want to work for others considering his social skills needed heavy working on. In terms of the changes to the ranking names, he thought it to be nice to flow into Egyptian-themed rankings. He certainly felt an Egyptian vibe from the desert he had to walk through to get here and, considering Sephiroth’s talk on superiority, he was willing to accept such names. He did, however, think it was strange to be only for aesthetic purposes. Then again, Perry might have revolted against having to worship anyone. He didn’t like being told what to believe in. He was an existentialist, a philosopher at heart. Being forced to believe in some kind of god didn’t sit well with the stuttering coyote, hearing the way Sephiroth continued to emphasise certain words such as identity. He didn’t want to begin with the Rosebloods’ religion of The Aspects, holding his own thoughts at bay. He didn’t mind following traditions if it made them happy, he guessed.
At the subject change, he found his own attention beginning to pull away from him. It was a long meeting for sure. To hear that the group was without a healer for a long time made his own chest swell, curious if he could offer his own help here. He only knew the basics, enough to treat whatever came his way, but knew he probably couldn’t deal with the more dramatic side of healing for now. Regardless, he made a mental note to himself that it might be a position he would want in future if he wanted to be ambitious. Ambitions and goals wasn’t quite something he was used to. Hierarchy, as obvious as it sounded, was only something one had to care about when living in groups. He’d never stopped to think that he might wish to help as a Physician for the Rosebloods…but would anyone be tolerant of his stammer? Unless it was to calm someone down, it shouldn’t be too much of a problem, he thinks.
Shout-outs to everybody else, the now-Pharaoh had said. He couldn’t help but feel that it was just a meaningless add-on, a way of saying ‘unlucky’. Then again, he had only just arrived. His opinions were all based on what he was hearing from Sephiroth and what the coyote had witnessed during his short time here. Great things. Apparently, there were great things coming his way, but he had a feeling it was directed to others. He was just a bystander, detached and hibernating within his own mind, witnessing events as the world turned. The gravitational pull of the planet drawing him closer to elsewhere, tempting him to the peaceful abode of his mind. If he wasn’t careful, he could forget the physical world around him altogether, spend his days just lying about, eyes blank and staring into nothingness. And yet, funnily enough, despite the void air that his eyes would be staring at, his mind would probably form something beautiful for him to gaze at. Perry smiles a little at Sephiroth’s urge for them to all scout the territory, look for landmarks. He wonders if he finds something amazing enough to be documented that it could be named after himself. It sounded vain, perhaps even cocky of him, but to do so was to immortalise himself in history. He wouldn’t be forgotten unless the Rosebloods left. It would be an honour, after all, to leave part of yourself behind to a place that you love or will grow to love. He can only begin to imagine the pain of being forgotten, discarded, despite the limitless love you held for someone or something. To discover a someplace new only hyped him, giving him more energy than he usually had. Maybe he will come to like this place, having stumbled across the breaking point of the Rosebloods’ bad luck. He was part of a revolution, the sparkle of hope.
Nearing the end of the meeting, he felt himself rolling his shoulders back, trying to stretch his spine from having sat for so long listening to the other. His muscles felt a little stiff, aching a little from his inelegant posture that he was beginning to adopt after having been there for so long. He doesn’t mind the idea of taking a weekly task. He will probably follow the rest of the members as they went to grab one because he wasn’t sure how exactly things operated in the Rosebloods. In terms of the ambassador program, he hesitates a little. He wasn’t bothered with the idea of traveling, keeping in touch with the news, but he was conscious of his inability to speak coherently. Maybe if he could be traveling with others to visit a group, then they could do the talking and he could do the heavy lifting. It would, however, also be good experience for him. He realises there were plenty of things to do around the Rosebloods, wondering if it was all going to overwhelm him or keep him occupied the moment he finished with sorting out his belongings.
At the end of the meeting, he gives a placid dip of his head in acknowledgement. No words escape him, not finding the confidence to congratulate Frightfur for his promotion. He didn’t know the other very well and he wanted to take a break from using his voice. His throat was a little dry from all the talking he had done recently and even though he still had the strange aftertaste of the mysterious drink he consumed rather recklessly, he still couldn’t muster the courage to hear his own voice. He was sure that he could make time to congratulate him another time, finally able to stand up and stretch his limbs, tail uncurling behind him. Jaws extend into a yawn, tears wetting the sides of his eyes from the fatigue he felt. He will probably go somewhere to take a nap before engaging in any of the thoughts and announcements addressed from the meeting, promptly leaving in a civil manner.
It would only take so long before he knew that he would be itching for something refreshing soon. Not even the universe knew when exactly he would become sick of this social life, pack up his belongings and leave for the road again. Perhaps this process would continue like routine, a farce day after day. He simply wanted to live and be entertained. He didn’t need words of appraisal. They were warm, but they weren’t needed. But he also didn’t need bundles of negativity. Perry was fine with what he had. In fact, he was quite content in having joined the Rosebloods. Although he thought their customs and practices to be very different, the rainforest to be dangerous and intimidating, it was worthwhile exploring about and understanding. It gave him, something to do and he didn’t have to worry about food. There was plenty here, conveniently not bombarded by rows of meat because it supported his vegetarian preferences.
The ground was rumbling with movement, tremoring by the number of feet hammering against it, soldier-like as faces intertwined and blurred. The crowd was filing into the area like the flow of water, gently but confidently streaming, trickling. Perry was amongst the crowd, unaccustomed to walking within large groups as his eyes darted quickly about the room, ping-ponging off the walls. He bites his bottom lip, nibbling almost nervously if it weren’t for the fact that he found a place to sit so quickly, positioned right in middle. It would be easy not to recognise him within the sea of creatures, especially considering the Rosebloods was so full of the mass of colours that decorated each and every one of their members. He shudders a little at the resonate purr of Sephiroth, the rolling tone of the Lord’s voice. The lion was surely a confident one, radiating with a pride that felt condescending to the coyote who never really felt any concern for his reputation. Although he didn’t care how others viewed him, he didn’t like to be belittled. It rubbed him the wrong way, but he had a feeling the charismatic voice of Sephiroth didn’t hold any ill intent. He was merely being judgemental.
Perry was unsure how to respond to the welcome, not knowing if the leader expected him to stand up when his name was called or thank the other during the meeting. He had a feeling it was just for show, an acknowledgement to all the newcomers to prove that Sephiroth had been paying attention to the news around him. Well, he could commend the feline for having remembered so many names. Perry not only would have stumbled over them but probably missed a face or two. If he counted correctly there were about ten names that had been called out. Provided he wasn’t secretly atrocious at recognising tone, it sounded that the male was rather happy to have them all here. He would have thought the influx of joiners would be stressful but now he realises that perhaps the main reason the Rosebloods seemed so mysterious and quiet was because there were so little of them. He happened to arrive within a turning point, the peak of a mountain, ready to tip and fall.
The comment of a traditional orientation sparked interest within the coyote. Drink. His gaze glistens towards the chalices, unable to see what was inside. Still, with the brief pause the Lord offered them, he fumbles over to take it. He doesn’t look at the liquid, the crimson that was shaking at the walls of the cup until he sits down. It reminded him of wine, but it didn’t exactly smell like it. He wasn’t sure if it was because his nose was blocked. He would have imagined it to smell sweet or like blood, cautious when he takes a closer sniff. Perhaps to an onlooker he would look paranoid, not immediately drinking it as if he didn’t trust the Rosebloods. The truth was, he didn’t. He hadn’t built up enough of a connection to the group, only knowing a few names didn’t allow him to feel any detachments. The coyote felt like a casual observer, watching and waiting for things to occur. He was, after all, still in the process of settling in himself. Maybe once he was finished with finding a place to stay and restocking his book collection, he will start to be more active.
Sephiroth wasn’t waiting for anyone when he began to move on, Perry’s fur bristling when he realised he had yet to drink from the chalice. Quickly, and whilst the other was talking about identity, he downed the drink with squeezed shut eyes. The canine realised just how much of a mistake it was when he felt himself gagging, doing his best to keep quiet, paws over his mouth. He needed to cough after having attempted to swallow and breathe at the same time. Luckily, no sound could be heard but to anyone sitting nearby him, they would see the way the coyote’s body would shudder and shake from his attempts to clear his throat from the awful sensation. When the sensation finally subsided, he finally noticed the tangy but sweet taste of the drink, not particularly liking it considering he had almost choked right then and there. His ears perk immediately forward, the male doing his best to rewind on what he had heard. Identity, they needed a stable identity. Perry didn’t have anything for or against the lion’s statement, wincing at the remaining feeling that sat in his neck. He had only just joined so therefore didn’t get a feel of what exactly the Rosebloods stood for.
Mercenary system. He didn’t even know that there was one implemented. He certainly didn’t want to work for others considering his social skills needed heavy working on. In terms of the changes to the ranking names, he thought it to be nice to flow into Egyptian-themed rankings. He certainly felt an Egyptian vibe from the desert he had to walk through to get here and, considering Sephiroth’s talk on superiority, he was willing to accept such names. He did, however, think it was strange to be only for aesthetic purposes. Then again, Perry might have revolted against having to worship anyone. He didn’t like being told what to believe in. He was an existentialist, a philosopher at heart. Being forced to believe in some kind of god didn’t sit well with the stuttering coyote, hearing the way Sephiroth continued to emphasise certain words such as identity. He didn’t want to begin with the Rosebloods’ religion of The Aspects, holding his own thoughts at bay. He didn’t mind following traditions if it made them happy, he guessed.
At the subject change, he found his own attention beginning to pull away from him. It was a long meeting for sure. To hear that the group was without a healer for a long time made his own chest swell, curious if he could offer his own help here. He only knew the basics, enough to treat whatever came his way, but knew he probably couldn’t deal with the more dramatic side of healing for now. Regardless, he made a mental note to himself that it might be a position he would want in future if he wanted to be ambitious. Ambitions and goals wasn’t quite something he was used to. Hierarchy, as obvious as it sounded, was only something one had to care about when living in groups. He’d never stopped to think that he might wish to help as a Physician for the Rosebloods…but would anyone be tolerant of his stammer? Unless it was to calm someone down, it shouldn’t be too much of a problem, he thinks.
Shout-outs to everybody else, the now-Pharaoh had said. He couldn’t help but feel that it was just a meaningless add-on, a way of saying ‘unlucky’. Then again, he had only just arrived. His opinions were all based on what he was hearing from Sephiroth and what the coyote had witnessed during his short time here. Great things. Apparently, there were great things coming his way, but he had a feeling it was directed to others. He was just a bystander, detached and hibernating within his own mind, witnessing events as the world turned. The gravitational pull of the planet drawing him closer to elsewhere, tempting him to the peaceful abode of his mind. If he wasn’t careful, he could forget the physical world around him altogether, spend his days just lying about, eyes blank and staring into nothingness. And yet, funnily enough, despite the void air that his eyes would be staring at, his mind would probably form something beautiful for him to gaze at. Perry smiles a little at Sephiroth’s urge for them to all scout the territory, look for landmarks. He wonders if he finds something amazing enough to be documented that it could be named after himself. It sounded vain, perhaps even cocky of him, but to do so was to immortalise himself in history. He wouldn’t be forgotten unless the Rosebloods left. It would be an honour, after all, to leave part of yourself behind to a place that you love or will grow to love. He can only begin to imagine the pain of being forgotten, discarded, despite the limitless love you held for someone or something. To discover a someplace new only hyped him, giving him more energy than he usually had. Maybe he will come to like this place, having stumbled across the breaking point of the Rosebloods’ bad luck. He was part of a revolution, the sparkle of hope.
Nearing the end of the meeting, he felt himself rolling his shoulders back, trying to stretch his spine from having sat for so long listening to the other. His muscles felt a little stiff, aching a little from his inelegant posture that he was beginning to adopt after having been there for so long. He doesn’t mind the idea of taking a weekly task. He will probably follow the rest of the members as they went to grab one because he wasn’t sure how exactly things operated in the Rosebloods. In terms of the ambassador program, he hesitates a little. He wasn’t bothered with the idea of traveling, keeping in touch with the news, but he was conscious of his inability to speak coherently. Maybe if he could be traveling with others to visit a group, then they could do the talking and he could do the heavy lifting. It would, however, also be good experience for him. He realises there were plenty of things to do around the Rosebloods, wondering if it was all going to overwhelm him or keep him occupied the moment he finished with sorting out his belongings.
At the end of the meeting, he gives a placid dip of his head in acknowledgement. No words escape him, not finding the confidence to congratulate Frightfur for his promotion. He didn’t know the other very well and he wanted to take a break from using his voice. His throat was a little dry from all the talking he had done recently and even though he still had the strange aftertaste of the mysterious drink he consumed rather recklessly, he still couldn’t muster the courage to hear his own voice. He was sure that he could make time to congratulate him another time, finally able to stand up and stretch his limbs, tail uncurling behind him. Jaws extend into a yawn, tears wetting the sides of his eyes from the fatigue he felt. He will probably go somewhere to take a nap before engaging in any of the thoughts and announcements addressed from the meeting, promptly leaving in a civil manner.