ALL HEAVEN IN A RAGE | Joining

[Luciferr]

⬻ M A R R ⤖

That which does not kill you has learned to fear your name

[ooc: this is all IC opinions, Marr has a...ton of baggage when it comes to godly/angels etc]

The aura that follows the next one sets his teeth on edge though he doesn’t show it, if only because so many that flaunted such an aura so obviously had only ever used it as a pretty lie to hide the ugliness beneath - a lovely mask to disguise the crack of whips and biting chains they’d then wrap around the fools taht got too close.

Marr pushes it away - this is a strange land, he can’t judge that here but he can’t help but think of those he gave his loyalty to willingly - those that had such auras but chose to hide it, embarrassed or guilty for seeming to try and push it on others, but that same heavyness yet in no way pretty would one say - he can’t help but compare and find this one grating against his senses - too bright, too pretty and too much like the false skins.

But he’s long grown used to hiding his thoughts from appearing on his face when he has to even if it grates so he inclines his head - a strange name this one has, but they are polite, so Marr will return it in kind, until he has reason not to anyway, even he needs a place for rest

”Marr” is all he says but he grunts in agreement to the offer for guidance, it will at least get him a better read on the territory and these people - and their unfamiliar familiar strangers.

Of course though, his red gaze catches on the last and suddenly it’s a fight not to react as he would if he were home or out in the fields hunting for caravans to free.

An angel

His scars feel like burning,

The only outward sign is the slight stiffening of his form and the twitch of tails behind him, ready for anything - fight or flight, but Marr clearly by looks alone is far more the former - still the inner turmoil is wrestled down and shoved in a box

He can’t flip out here after all and it wouldn’t do to let the secondary form out now, he can’t play all his cards so freely - though the pandaemonium in his blood writhes and shift under his flesh.

He shifts on his feet,

Think of Argentum, remember, not all false skinned, remember

Wrestles it down, swallows the spite and bile and the urge to spit and rage,

It’s a monumental effort for all that only moments pass but the giant manages a gruff nod to...Aurum and a rumbled ”I’ve lived in worse” to the comment on the cold,

He has had to live from one extreme to another after all, he’s well versed in surviving the odds.

"TALKING"