07-24-2020, 01:31 AM
✱ it's twelve o'clock
in soho, baby
[align=center]in soho, baby
CALEM DELLAMORTE
Calem didn't stop to see if someone had answered him; he just kept trekking onwards, loudly declaring his intentions, until he came upon the first sign of life — a flickering energy, crisp and salty and carrying the bite of the sea breeze. He paused, turning instinctively towards the foreign source, and almost immediately was being blasted in the face with fucking sandy-ass air. Startled, he yelped in disgruntled alarm and slid backwards in the sand, only belatedly urging the wind to settle around him before it blew him entirely off his paws.
"Yo, what the fuck," he huffed, sand sticking uncomfortably to his tongue. Great. He gave his pelt a quick shake and straightened, eyeing the hellion who had come to attack him. Unfortunately, she was cute. Fortunately, Callie didn't care much about his own sense of pride, and a little bit of sand couldn't stop him from pursuing even the most prickle of prizes.
His golden stare narrowed quickly, and after a moment he whispered softly under his breath. A puff of air blew in the stranger's face, littered with the scent of cinnamon; it was more playful than threatening, but clearly meant to convey that he was ready for it this time if she flung him. Again. He tossed his head back and said, slyly, "Well, I wanted a place to stay, but I think I'll settle for you, instead. Do you try to drown all of your dashing visitors in sand, little urchin?"
It was possible, very possible, that he was treading in dangerous waters — quite literally. Calem didn't really give a damn, though; he could sense the unsettling amount of energy rolling off of her, foreign and stranger, but worst case he could just faze out of the living realm and call it a day. So what if the runes had pointed him towards this sandy shore; he was sure they could offer up a new suggestion if this girl tried to kill him. Probably.
He would just hope that she found him charming and decidedly didn't try to kill him.
[align=center]"Yo, what the fuck," he huffed, sand sticking uncomfortably to his tongue. Great. He gave his pelt a quick shake and straightened, eyeing the hellion who had come to attack him. Unfortunately, she was cute. Fortunately, Callie didn't care much about his own sense of pride, and a little bit of sand couldn't stop him from pursuing even the most prickle of prizes.
His golden stare narrowed quickly, and after a moment he whispered softly under his breath. A puff of air blew in the stranger's face, littered with the scent of cinnamon; it was more playful than threatening, but clearly meant to convey that he was ready for it this time if she flung him. Again. He tossed his head back and said, slyly, "Well, I wanted a place to stay, but I think I'll settle for you, instead. Do you try to drown all of your dashing visitors in sand, little urchin?"
It was possible, very possible, that he was treading in dangerous waters — quite literally. Calem didn't really give a damn, though; he could sense the unsettling amount of energy rolling off of her, foreign and stranger, but worst case he could just faze out of the living realm and call it a day. So what if the runes had pointed him towards this sandy shore; he was sure they could offer up a new suggestion if this girl tried to kill him. Probably.
He would just hope that she found him charming and decidedly didn't try to kill him.
8 MONTHS — THE TYPHOON — BLACK MAMBA — WITCHCRAFT — BIO
[align=center] GIN O'CLOCK:
THE LOVE, THE DARK, THE LIGHT, THE FLAME