12-01-2020, 07:18 PM
SEVCON VERBAN
He wasn't the one for wars, or war paint, but now that he was free of the war-tribe, he wanted blood on his paws and screams of the dying in his ears. It was almost time, he was sure of it. Soon, his soon to be black paws would be covered in crimson and blood. As he approached the beach area, he set his eyes upon Stryker, taking note in his war paint. A rumble rose form him, "It's almost time, innit? I can hardly even wait."
He tentatively placed his front paws in the black dye, taking them out and marveling at the black. Letting the dye dry, he looked to the sky. "The old tribe I was prisoner of prayed to this war god before battles. I believe they called him... Arecoatl, the War Serpent." With a dry paw he dipped his claws in the crimson, placed the claws to his white mask, and scraped them across it, from one eye to another, then down the center. After a moment, he reconsidered. "That's too plain, give me a moment."
Gently he walked toward the ocean, washing his paws of the dye causing him to grunt in dissatisfaction. But he shrugged and took off his mask, revealing his torn face. He washed the mask of the crimson markings, then flicked it wildly before the ocean to get rid of water droplets. "Let's try again."
He dipped his paw in the pink-red dye, placed his paw against his mask, and ran his paw down it harshly, creating a messy half-n-half design. With claws dipped in black dye, he added tear-lines down from the eyeholes of the mask. "That shud do it."
"Speech"
" THEY NEVER HAD IT LIKE ME, LIKE ME / THEY NEVER REALLY LIKED ME, LIKED ME! " ————————————————— ˊˎ˗