AESIOR OPHELES
✯ — got spirits in my head and they won't go
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flick of ears, eyes turning to the new face. ah, how strange this place was. not that he had any other place to go. looking down at his notebook as he thought before shaking his head slightly at cleo's question of if he could speak, raising his paw once more to his throat, letting his claws unsheathe to demonstrate the injury that he had obtained. tapping where his voicebox would reside, he made a motion in the air of slicing, trying to indicate his vocal chords had been cut through. by all odds, he had survived and healed what surely should have been a fatal wound so long ago. ears flicking back, thinking to the one he had served under, a flash of darkness falling across his eyes as he shuddered slightly. damn, he missed them, his silence only seemed to influence the flowers and greenery upon his shoulders which produced various small blooms of pink camelia, his gaze wandering before quickly returning to the situation at hand. if they were here, he could speak through them, they could explain for him.
tail curling about his paws, he snuffed out his cigarette, knowing not everyone would appreciate the acrid scent. for him, it was a comfort, the smoke covering the scent of death that he could swear clung to him, the scent of flowers too strong and too weak to hide the sickly sweet scent of rot that clung to the dead and those who dealt with them. lifting his head to look at arlo, tail tapping over his own paws, looking at the book for a split second before reaching for it with his paw, picking up the pencil that resided within its spine and scrawling onto the paper in a script he hadn't used in years, imparting with his information. Written upon the paper, laid the words, my name is aesior. i am here to join your group. i apologize for not speaking, i became mute as a child. i do not like writing, but i will if it is easier for everyone here.
tail curling about his paws, he snuffed out his cigarette, knowing not everyone would appreciate the acrid scent. for him, it was a comfort, the smoke covering the scent of death that he could swear clung to him, the scent of flowers too strong and too weak to hide the sickly sweet scent of rot that clung to the dead and those who dealt with them. lifting his head to look at arlo, tail tapping over his own paws, looking at the book for a split second before reaching for it with his paw, picking up the pencil that resided within its spine and scrawling onto the paper in a script he hadn't used in years, imparting with his information. Written upon the paper, laid the words, my name is aesior. i am here to join your group. i apologize for not speaking, i became mute as a child. i do not like writing, but i will if it is easier for everyone here.
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THE FLOWER BURNS