A BIRTH AND A DEATH ON THE SAME DAY ; open, transition

[Suiteheart]

SUITE
HEART

Suiteheart woke up screaming.

More correctly, all the souls within her were screaming, their voices playing out on her lips. She could feel each of them circling her mind, and she could feel the fear each of them produced.

The dreams that had plagued her last night still clung to her fur, to her heart, to her mind. Her breathing was fast-paced. Her eyes were wide in fear. Instinctively, her claws had unsheathed themselves. Her vision was warped; she was seeing ten different lifetimes all layered into one. She was trembling now too, shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. She was... freezing? No. No, she was fucking terrified. Everything within her was screaming to run, so she did.

The white feline rose, on trembling paws, and slipped out of her room. Perhaps it was a bad idea: her movements were odd, jumpy, not coordinated. Each soul within her was fighting for control, and her heart was seized with fear because she knew why. Suiteheart didn't stop the shifting between souls - she let them all run their shared vessel. She was too frightened to fight. They knew what was happening. Not her. No, God, she had no idea what was coming. She had witnessed it in dreams and visions, but everyone within her whispered it was so much worse.

Every shadow was dangerous. Every rustle in the grasses caused her to flinch. Every sound in the distance was a death-sentence.

'He will be arriving soon, Suiteheart... H-He is fast approaching, darling... Corculum, venit... He is headed our way, little soul... Better run, my jewel, - he's coming... Suite, he's coming for us... Oh, my dear, be prepared, for he is almost here... I fear that fleeing is futile, love; he is at our heels... Get ready, bitch, he's near...'

Each being that shared her soul was warning her. It began with Erlend and traveled all the lifetimes, stopping after Aerona spoke. Each version of herself spoke with years upon years worth of dread, and it chilled her to her bone. They were all showing her flash images in an attempt to prepare her for her inevitable doom, but nine different versions of one instance were mixed together so hastily that nothing was making sense. And soon, as they began fighting over whose memories would be shown first, they were all exploding in her mind, each being too powerful for her single soul to carry.

'Suiteheart.' It was Erlend. Even in the midst of her approaching demise, the archaic soul within her brought peace forward with her. And then, it was shattered. Erlend's mood shifted and transformed into something grave. 'I fear this will be the last time we speak. The cycle is going to repeat itself. You and I are both aware of that much, but when we are all reborn again, our shared soul will shatter. Maarit, Ingrid, Genevieve, and Margaery will not be able to find us, young one. I know it is difficult to understand, but it is what is bound to happen. Our soul is already breaking underneath the weight of 1000 years. Adding another individual will destroy what is left of us.'

"What am I supposed to do, Erlend?" Suiteheart whispered in alarm. "I - I can't beat him. What do I do?" The silence that filled her mind was deafening. Every single being inside of herself fell so hauntingly quiet that fresh panic gripped her heart. "Please, tell me what I'm supposed to do. I can't - I can't leave..."

'You cannot stop it, young one. No one can. It is a fate we were all predetermined to fall victim to. I pray that your death is a swift one, child. I hope you do not suffer as we all have.'

Erlend's words had such a finality about them that Suiteheart's face contorted in pain. The white feline could feel everything crashing down around her, and all she could do was keep running. She had to. She had to run from this fate that was not hers. It couldn't be hers. Suite was not like her other nine lifetimes. She had to be different. She didn't want to die. She had a family and friends and a new life. She couldn't be ripped away from that.

'If you are going to say your farewells, I might begin now,' Erlend informed. 'He is closing in. I can feel it. Can you?'

Suiteheart wasn't sure when she had stopped running, but she had. Her paws did not move. She was frozen, bolted to the ground, but she didn't want to move. She knew it would be useless. "I'm scared." Her eyes were on the horizon now, and the air around her felt supercharged. She could feel the oncoming disaster like she could feel the gentle summer breeze. She could practically hear his laughter though she knew the sounds were echos from her past lives. In flashes in her mind's eye, she could see him.

Niklaus.

She felt the fear, the panic, the hatred yet again. The feelings were stronger now and so much more intense than they had ever been. Nine lifetimes of final moments washed over her, and she felt like she was drowning. Her head was swimming. It was spinning. She felt like she was losing her grasp on reality like she had when Margaery - no, it had been Genevieve - presented her with her former memories. Her souls were screaming again. The cacophony of sound in her mind was overwhelming, and her legs shook and felt weak. Her head was exploding. Blood trickled down slowly from her nose. She didn't know how or who was in control, but she was running again. She had taken only a few steps when she stumbled into someone.

"Hello, Suiteheart. My, my, you look just like Erlend did all those years ago."

The scent of pine tree forests wrapped around her in a dark embrace. The smell of fresh paint was mingled within it, and she felt oddly at peace. It was almost like Margaery, but there were no roses. She allowed herself a moment of harmony. Then, she caught the bitter tang of blood. It was soft, at first, but it hit her all at once. It choked her, and she finally lifted her head to look into those eyes she had known only in her memories and nightmares.

Niklaus smiled down at her, and Suiteheart moved. She pushed him away, weakly. He grabbed on to her, sinking claws into the sides of her upper arm. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes because her worst fears were being realized. Everything within her was fighting to free herself, but she couldn't. She couldn't flee; any time she moved, his grip tightened.

"Oh, love... You put up much more of a fight in the past. Such a shame too. From what I heard, I thought you'd go down kicking and screaming for my daughter."

And those words lit a fire within her. The white feline gritted her teeth, and using all her force, pushed herself from him using her hindlegs. Once freed, she stood, unsheathing her claws. "We always do, don't we?" she snarled, her voice warping, taking on nine different tones in the course of her speech. She lowered her stance, prepared to strike when needed. "I'll kill you this time."

He didn't speak, but he did smile darkly at her. He lunched himself, and then the fight began.

---

It hadn't taken long. Niklaus's strength far outweighed her own, and he bested her time and time again. Any attack she dealt him, he returned tenfold. She was littered in marks, and he barely had scratches. She was covered in gashes and was bleeding heavily. Her breathing was labored. Her limbs were shaking. Her souls were talking quickly within her mind. They had been guiding her movements, trying to help her finally defeat what had killed them for the last 1000 years. There was no need for it. Nik knew their strikes before they did.

He flew forward, pinning her to the ground with ease. She fell hard, and her head crashed into the ground. She tried pushing against him, but she was so tired. Her vision was darkening. "Really? This is all? Like a said: a shame, love. You've gone weak. Perhaps I'll use your blood for a new painting. I've been missing an essential shade for my palette anyway."

"Nik-"

Before she could finish speaking, his claws were at her throat. Like daggers, they dug into her, piercing her skin. Blood began to leak from the fresh wounds. He craned his neck so that he could whisper in her ear: "I told you, Suiteheart. I always win." His words were slow, sharp, and cold. He chuckled just before his claws moved around her throat, mimicking the necklaces she was wearing. She gasped as the wound began to bleed profusely.

His ears perked, and he moved back from her. The sound of approaching pawsteps made him smile. "Oh, how I hate goodbyes," he sighed. The ginger and white tom flicked his tail and narrowed his emerald eyes. "Sorry to run, love, but you've got company. Tell my daughter I’ll come for her in the morning." And with those words spoken, he was gone. It was as if the shadows had taken him.

Suiteheart moved onto her stomach. She was gasping, her lungs begging for air. She crawled towards the approaching footfalls, but she only moved two feet before exhaustion overtook her. The edges of her vision were turning black, but it didn't matter. None of it would matter in a few moments. The Ecliptic Admiral rolled to her left side. Her breathing was shallow, slow, and she was fading in and out of consciousness.

The sun was finally rising. Baby blue eyes were glued to it. With her souls silent, the sunrise was all she needed. It would guide her into the next life and then her soul would shatter and then she would be gone for good. The smallest of frowns tugged at her lips. She didn't want this... She didn't ask for any of this.

It was getting cold.

The sound of someone headed her way was getting closer and closer. She wished they would hurry. Her souls had hidden themselves, and she didn't want to be alone.

The deputy slowly lifted her head as someone approached. Her vision was blurred. She couldn't tell who it was, but she offered them a shaky smile. She hated that they had to see her this way. She was supposed to be strong. She wasn't supposed to get hurt like this. This was hurt fault.

"S-S... I'm s-" Suiteheart attempted in a gurgle. "I-I'm sor-sorry." Her voice was soft, almost inaudible, and the injury made her speech broken and slurred. She laid her head down and her eyes fluttered shut. She was tired... God, she was tired.

She wanted to sleep.

[tldr: suiteheart was attacked by margaery's father, niklaus. he left her, not worrying about finishing up the job of killing her because her neck wound is can't be healed by herbs and bandages. she is now laying on her side, fading in and out of consciousness]

[b]suiteheart folie-mikaelson — ecliptic admiral — the ascendants — tags

© [color=black]MADI

[Warringkingdoms]

  [font=trebuchet ms]If she never had to smell her clanmates’ blood again, it would be too soon.

  As Rin trudged outside, yawning, the metallic stench had instantly startled her awake. Without any delay, she bolted towards the source of the scent. It was possible that the individual wasn’t one of their own, but she wasn’t about to take that chance.

  Especially since, as she grew closer to the scene, she could’ve sworn she smelled Suiteheart out here. Suiteheart couldn’t die. The idea of her dying wasn’t one that Rin’s heart could accept as in the realm of possibility, even though her mind knew from the case with Margaery that it was all too likely.

  She couldn’t ignore the sight of Suite bleeding heavily right before her eyes, though.

  ”What happened?!” Rin demanded, rushing to Suite’s side and taking bandages out of her bag. The wound in her throat was gushing blood, so much that the stench threatened to drown all who approached it, but Rin couldn’t just do nothing. Gritting her teeth, she pressed the dressings tightly against the neck wound, internally begging them to work as intended.

  And Suite had the nerve to smile at her, to apologize to her. Taking off her scarf and adding it to the dressings- maybe that would finally staunch the bleeding- Rin snarled, ”Don’t ’I’m sorry’ me! Say you’re sorry by living, why don’t you?”

[Margaery]

MARGAERY FOLIE-MIKAELSON

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I REMIND YOU OF THE DAYS
YOU POURED YOUR HEART INTO

There were many things that Margaery Mikaelson hated. Among those were wasps, weeds, anything that resembled the beach, and oh, of course, her father. Niklaus was not a kind person. He was volatile, murderous, and cared for absolutely nothing save himself. He'd deny that last one until the day he died (if he ever died), insisting so passionately that the only things he lived for anymore were the Mikaelsons. Nik had told her time and time again that he'd do anything for her, for any of them, and yet, every one hundred years he slaughtered her lover in cold blood in some attempt to protect them or forced her (or one of her relative's) sprits into a sleep-like state simply because they were bothering him. Uncle Elijah and Aunt Emilia had left him... So had the rest of his siblings. All he had left was her mother because she was the only one who could keep up with him. She was so desperate to be loved that she pushed aside everything else.

Even her daughter.

How could Margaery have forgotten to add her to the list?

She knew that her time with Suiteheart was coming to a close. Soon enough, her father would be around to collect what was his and drag Margaery as far away from the Ascendants as possible. She wouldn't leave - couldn't leave - and had vowed to protect Suite no matter what, even if it meant having her father dagger her and carry her away in exchange for her wife's life. She thought that she had more time though, that Niklaus still hadn't been able to locate the Ascendants and was having his little spies scour the area. Hardly did he come to do anything for himself anymore that when she felt a sudden wave of distress that paired oh so bitterly with Suiteheart's frantic souls, she knew that she had wrongfully underestimated him.

For a moment, all she could do was stand in one place, petrified. The bond detailed everything as if she was right there next to Suite and she knew with sudden clarity that this was it. That she wouldn't even get to say goodbye. Why? Why? Her father had to take everything from her, had to destroy every chance of love and happiness she had stumbled upon over the course of her long life because he thought she was in danger. He wasn't the concerned, doting father, he was selfish and paranoid and absolutely filled to the brim with a skewed perception concerning the world. She wanted him to die. Wanted to be rid of him forever. But she couldn't... just as much as she was immortal, so was he. Any attempt on his life would simply be unwise.

She supposed that the worst part about all of this was that she had just returned. Genevieve had passed the reigns of control back over to Margaery and she had barely relished in her regained consciousness when her father decided to dip in.
He couldn't have even allowed her a moment of peace before he decided to-

[b]"Agh!"

Pain washed over her, hot and unrelenting. She was vaguely aware of the words they were sharing, almost too engulfed in agony to register much of anything else. Of course he was teasing her... why wouldn't he? He always loved playing with one of his victims. She was crying now, weeping in her garden's and too paralyzed to do anything. Not until he mentioned her... not until he said he'd be back to collect her tomorrow. She wasn't a prize. She wasn't an object. She wasn't his to acquire as he pleased. She hardly considered herself to be his daughter, so why did he think he could do that? No.. No. She'd kill him where he stood.

But Suite.

She could feel her wife weakly through the bond, sharing the same pain that she did. She was still alive though and as long as she was alive, there was a chance that Margaery could save her. She just had to be strong - had to break through her despair-induced paralysis. She was moving so quickly now, cheeks stained with tears and vision blurry as shaky legs carried her towards her wife.

She didn't even stop to acknowledge the scene or Rin or even Suiteheart's apologies. She could smell her father as much as she could feel the desire to fall into waiting memories from times long ago. Times when he had been kind and benevolent. But she'd deal with him later. Her teeth were already digging into her arm, blood rising to the surface. She attempted to press her arm to Suite's mouth, tears never ceasing in their flow. If she died with her blood in her system, Selene would steal her soul and fix it. She wasn't giving Suiteheart much of a choice here but... she had to. She had heard her souls, knew the consequences. If Suite didn't survive this, she would never see her one love ever again.

She couldn't let her go.

"Selene! Selene!" She shouted. The Goddess had been painfully silent since Genevieve had assumed control and even afterwards... oh no.. She couldn't have left her. "Selene, listen, it's me! Maarit! I need you to heal her, make her a vampire, do something, I don't care!" She was half screaming half sobbing now. She had lost Suiteheart once before and every one of her counterparts nine times.. she couldn't do a tenth. "Selene, I'm begging you... don't let her die... don't take her away from me! Consider this my offering for the month! Our bargain! Please! Our bargain!"

In the back of her mind, something that was not Ingrid, or Maarit, or even Genevieve stirred. For a moment, she was calmed by its presence.

Consider it done, Maarit. Your warrior will be returned to you.

© MADI

[Roy Mustang]

As soon as the iron filled scent made it's way to Roy Mustang's nostrils, Roy's ideal night of perfect rest went out the window.

His blue eyes snapped open, pupils instantly full of concern. His eyes were wide, the Lunar Lieutenant still breathing in that heavy iron scent. The first thing that ran through his mind was to check on his daughter. His head snapped to her, some relief taken off of his chest when he noticed her slumbering body, oblivious to the awful scent. Alright, Aaliyah is safe, The male thought to himself as he climbed off of his bed, but someone else isn't. He went over to his daughter for a moment, softly licking her on the head, hoping that the scent won't wake her. Whatever has happened isn't good, and someone as young as Aaliyah shouldn't walk into it. "Stay here," He murmured to her, before quickly padding off into the dark observatory.

As Roy followed the scent carefully, his ears pricked up at the sound of other pawsteps. And quickly after, their screams. With every step the Flame Alchemist took, the scent of the blood grew stronger and stronger. He quickened his pace, his three legs moving as fast as they can take him.

When he finally arrived to the scene, his blue eyes locked on Suiteheart. She was laying on her stomach, blood staining her perfect white fur. She was trying to say sorry, sounding more like gurgling. For a moment, Roy stayed still, eyes growing wide with shock as he looked at the scene before him. It didn't take long for his legs to beginning shaking, ears drawing back to his skull. "Suiteheart!" The Flame Alchemist screamed as he tried to make his way over to the limp feline, making sure not to get in the way of Warringkingdoms as she did everything she could to save Suiteheart. Please, don't die, The Flame Alchemist thought to himself as he felt his heart pumping in his ears, his blue eyes not blinking once as they stared at the heavily injured female.

Roy hated how useless he is in this situation. One of his best friends, one of the first Ascendants members that reached out to Roy after his long time of being closed off, is dying on the ground. He knows that cauterizing the wound would only cause infection, and that the wound was probably deep. He assumed a cauterization would be the last option, there's no way it can be performed on her condition. The more Roy looked at her wound, the more uneasy he felt. Can Suiteheart really survive this? He knows Warringkingdoms is a great Cleric and all, but even doctors can't save all their patients- and then, he heard Margaery's screaming.

"Selene, listen, it's me! Maarit! I need you to heal her, make her a vampire, do something, I don't care!"

Selene? That name doesn't sound familiar at all, and what bargain was she talking about? When Margaery came back to life, she didn't tell them much on what happened. Was she in a similar situation? Could this Selene be like his Truth? Roy didn't allow himself to think longer on the name, instead focusing his attention back onto Suiteheart. Could turning Suiteheart into a vampire really save her life? It seemed like Margaery was certain on it, it didn't look like Suiteheart had much time left with them. It seems like this option is very last option, the final attempt, to save Suiteheart's life. Forget cauterization, that's completely out the window.

Roy tore his gaze off of Suiteheart for a moment, Roy's pleading eyes met Margaery's. "Do it," He almost commanded, his tone mixing between militaristic and desperation. Roy's eyes were screaming with emotion, as if they were saying: I'm useless, I can't do anything, but you can. Save her, Margaery!

[| AGENT WASHINGTON |]

Death was common. It always would and always will be. There was no escaping away from the aspect of death and how much it could actually end up changing someone if they weren't careful. There were those that simply couldn't let go of one that they ended up losing and Washington knew this a little bit too well even if it hadn't been his own memories of the loss that was in his mind nowadays. It seemed like no matter if someone was an animal or simply a human there was going to be death on both fronts. He remembered hearing about the first beginning of the war when he was just a child going to school. Not thinking for a second that anything bad would happen to him or his sisters. His mother and father were together around that time as well, and they were almost the perfect family. But the planet needed capable soldiers. And so, there was a draft for those that were old enough to join in the army as they needed more fighters. His father had been one of them. He had been too young at the time to really understand what the death of his father actually meant once he was killed on duty. He was confused at first and thought that his father was just going to be on some sort of trip and that he wouldn't be returning for a while.

The concept of death fresh in his mind and his sisters also didn't understand. It only happened when they started to struggling financially with a single parent that Washington finally realized that everything meant when he was just a teenager. His father was gone and there was no getting him back. Then there was the aspect of what he wanted to do with his life. The majority of the schools that he went to had a course that would teach military basics in case any of them wanted to join the military. It would help speed up the process, and seeing no better way to support his family and help pay off the bills that were starting to pile up, he started to enlist. Without his mother's permission, which probably broke her heart, but he had done it for a reason. To help them. They were going to need it with the lack of resources that were already on Earth and the war that was going on. Washington had been in his early 20's when he went to basic training. He had assumed that the training was going to be horrible, but it was beyond his expectations. It was horrible. They did drills every single day and weren't allowed to leave and got them right.

The worst part of it was that they were limited to how much training that they were even getting because the military didn't have enough time to waste in training everyone up to being a complete soldier. They didn't have the resources to keep everyone at a base, so with the limited training, they were sent toward the battlefield to die. During the time he was there he overheard something about the Spartan program but didn't know much else about what was going on. Washington did his job though, and he guessed that he was a good enough shot that it was enough to keep him from dying in the line of fire immediately. Having limited gear meant that the odds weren't exactly in his favor. Washington, of course, remembered the first time that he had gone onto a battlefield. It had been on a snow like planet. He was freezing his ass off and could barely feel his hands. He was on watch at a base that they were supposed to defend. That planet being Sidewinder, a familiar place to some other soldiers that were still alive. Washington remembered that the alien enemy had attacked them in the middle of the day. The raid had started off as soon as a soldier lost their head to a sniper bullet from a cliff a good distance away.

Washington had been forced to take cover with someone else as well. Washington thought that he would be able to get a couple shots, but that was difficult when they were all targeting the ledge that he was on. It frustrated him, and the soldier next him had just managed to peak from behind the cover to see where they were being shot from. Only to get a bullet straight through the eye. The soldier didn't even see it happened, as he was turned away from his teammate, but instead, he felt something wet splatter onto the back of his neck. He was a rookie, and he was confused on what the hell that was until he brought his hand to the back of his neck and saw the blood. At first, he thought that maybe he had been shot and that he was bleeding. It was only the sound of a nearby thump as something landed on the ground that Washington realized what it was. It was the same rookie that had been next to him. Because of the way that he had been shot, the other's head had turned to look at him when collapsed on the ground. He was obviously dead. Washington didn't know what not do though, and he screamed for a medic. Only to be scolded and shouted out when he asked for a medic for someone that was obviously dead, while others around him could be helped.

He stared down at the face and knew that he was going to get out of here alive. He had to do it for both his sisters and his mother. He grabbed his battle rifle and went to work against the enemy. He didn't end up getting out scot-free though, and instead, he had a bullet that went through one of his arms at the end of the battle. As the enemy got closer, they started to put explosives toward the entrance of where they were bound to walk in. They knew that they couldn't completely take the base and if they destroyed some things so be it. The enemy wasn't allowed to get any of their intel either. Washington had no choice but to move from his cover, smashing a nearby window and sliding through it and landing into the middle of the base. He looked at their motion trackers and armed the explosives before finally set them off. The left side of the base completely collapsed, completely killing anything underneath it. Washington had no idea how silence could be so awful at that very moment. There were a large handful of soldiers that had indeed survived, and they went to go check to see if any of the enemies had survived it. Washington killing those that were still barely alive but were still moving. Covered in the blood of a human and speckles of alien blood, he had completed his first mission.

A mission that he would never forget. Washington no longer freaked out at the sight of dead soldiers from that point on. He was a quick learner and wasn't going to sacrifice another life for another. It was only when he started to work with the same platoon over and over again that he started to get protective of them. When it came time for him to join Project Freelancer, the death of a teammate didn't strike him of something that he would want to think about. The Freelancers that he knew during his time there as the rookie of the team they had all survived up to the crash of the ship as far as he knew. They could all still be alive and well, and he was sure as hell hoping that they would be. Either way, he no longer had to command of those that were under him, being the lowest ranking Freelancer that was part of the program. At least the worst of the best. Washington took orders instead of dishing them out. A change that Washington was fine with as long as he trusted the one that was giving out the orders. The Freelancer knew that every one of his teammates was capable of taking care of themselves and he didn't have to watch out for them. If anything, his teammates were watching out for him because he always had a knack of getting himself in trouble. The difference this time though, was that instead of killing aliens, he was killing his own species.

Compared to the first firefight he had been in, he didn't get to see the faces of those that he shot. Their faces are hidden behind the helmets that they had. He felt no remorse for those that he did kill, because as far as he knew they were killing criminals and nothing else. That made his job a little bit easier, as being in the military for years had prepared him for more than he originally thought it was going to. It made being a Freelancer easy when it came to the aspects of morals. If someone close to him were to die though, he wasn't sure how to feel. At least, he knew what it was like to lose someone close to him but those weren't HIS memories. Those were the memories that belonged to Alpha and the Director. He had them stuck in his head that had replaced some of his own memories. Meaning that he had lost his own memories when the implantation did happen. Washington remembered feeling the utter grief of someone that lost their wife in the Great War. One that was independent and needed her strength around to continue to the next day. The suffocating feeling that he was alone and had to figure out a way to fill that hole in his heart. And once he did create someone that was similar to his wife, it wasn't good enough.

He needed to get her perfect, creating her over and over again. And that had been the true reason for the creation of Project Freelancer. To get someone that was lost to come back again. Whether they wanted to be brought back to life or not didn't matter. The Director had just wanted to get his life back. But at the same time, he had abandoned the rest of his family. Including Carolina. Whether or not it was actually him that was feeling the loss, Washington knew emotionally what it felt like to lose someone. Memories that he had yet to share with anyone and refused to talk about. Not like anyone had any sort of suspicion. Either way, death was something that he got used to seeing. The Freelancer was on his morning run during this time. Around 0400 hours to 0500 hours. It was an easy schedule for him to follow, although it became a little bit difficult to follow now that Carolina was around. But he was managing and his mental health was starting to get a little bit better as well. Since he had decided to take shelter in the Ascendant's, he had yet to see any sort of violence in the group whatsoever. Or even injuries. Washington still had no idea what these animals would do if someone got sick or injured in a place like this. There were plenty of things he still didn't know though.

The armored smilodon usually was exhausted at the end of his run, and thanks to the helmet that he wore it was basically impossible for him to pick up any scents. The Freelancer blinked his gold gaze he noticed that there dots in the distance as he going to the direction of the Observatory. Washington noticed a pattern, and that gathering of these animals usually meant that something was happening. Washington felt no need to rush on his approach as he still couldn't smell anything. It was only when he started to hear the panicked voice that he realized that there was indeed something off. With the sun rising it was hard to see the ground, and how the ground around whoever was indeed on the ground was darkening. The Freelancer quickly made his way over, skidding a bit of a distance so that he wouldn't get into anyone's way. He wasn't a medic after all and that meant that he wasn't really capable of helping a situation like this. His eyes went wide as he realized who it was. Suiteheart. One of the few animals that he somewhat trusted in the place like this. One that was willing to listen to whatever anyone was saying. Looking at her injuries though, he didn't need a medic to see that she was dying.

She was losing far too much blood, and he hadn't heard anything of being a vampire. It looked as if she had been attacked. The marks on her body looking like when someone was clawed. Had there been an enemy? Where was the enemy now? His gaze moved from the bleeding second in command to looking around as if to spot someone in the distance. His mind was racing as to what he could possibly do. His gut was telling him that there was no use in helping someone that was just going to die. But the look on everyone that was around her showed that they weren't willing to give up hope just yet. He clenched his jaw behind his helmet and took another step forward, at least four feet between him and everyone else. "W-What's happening? Is there anything that can be done?" Washington questioned. He didn't know enough about this damned world to even begin to help. He felt USELESS. Probably like everyone else was starting to feel now. He hated goodbyes. He didn't want to say goodbye to anyone here just yet even if he was using half of them. Had the Freelancer's brought this to them? Was she caught in the crossfire by one of their own? The thought simply made him swallow as his anxiety began to build as contradicting thoughts vibrated through his already damaged mind. "speech"

[glow=black,2,300]— ✘ —[/glow]

Tags | Updated 06/26/18:

GENERAL:
★ AGENT WASHINGTON | WASH, WASHINGTON, DAVID | MALE
★ Heterosexual
★ 3 years | Birthday | Ages realistically
★ Ascendants |  Regular member | Freelancer, Former Human

IMPORTANT FACTS:
★ Agent Washington always wears his armor and never takes it off. Which means no one knows what his face actually looks like.
★ He hates being called any sort of nickname, preferring for his full name to be used when addressing him. He will constantly state so, as its just how he's used to being talked to.
★ Agent Washington suffers from insomnia and auditory/visual hallucinations. 
★ The armor that he wears is extremely tough, there are some spaces in between the armor, but if someone were to hit his armor it would not break.
★ Due to his experience when he was a human, he prefers working alone and not counting on others to help him in a bad situation.
★ Washington will not trust your character. No matter how nice they are. He will not tell them anything until getting to know them.
★ His current goal is to turn himself back into a human, as he doesn't want to be a cat forever. Because of this goal, he is less likely to offer assistance to the groups.

RECENT EVENTS (oldest-recent):
★

PHYSICAL:
★ AMORED SLATE GREY SMILODON FATALIS [birth/main] | health: 100% | Reference.
580lbs. Agent Washington is a species of Smilodon, roughly the size of a lion. Washington is different compared to most Smilodons due to the strange coloration of his fur. That being a dark slate grey compared to the regular tawny of a simple smilodon. There are faint spots that are visible around his back legs, but only when the light hits it in a specific way. Not only that, but Agent Washington wears titanium alloy armor, making it extremely durable for taking hits and can be used as a means of bashing an enemy. The armor color itself is slightly lighter than that of his actual fur color. He wears a chest plate, that covers his chest and half of his back. Then there are shoulder plates that cover his shoulders and his arms protecting the front half of his body. There is a gap between the shoulder plate and the rest of the arm plate of his armor. His shoulder plate is a yellow, making it stand out from the slate grey armor he wears. Washington also wears a Spartan Helmet resembling that seen in the Halo series. The visor is a reflective gold and having a yellow line going down the middle of the helmet. While he wears armor, one doesn't notice the extreme amount of scars that cover his body, that has transferred from the time that he was a human. Scars ranging from those made by knives, bullets, and blunt trauma. Since his armor doesn't cover the lower half of his body (flank, and back legs), several scars can be seen uncovered in that area. Even though no one has seen his face, if someone were to see his face, his eyes are a deep gold color with blue wrapping around his pupil. The blue is a result of the trauma from a failed AI implantation when he was human. There is a scar on the back of his neck that branches out almost like a lightning bolt, and its barely visible as his helmet hides the majority of said scars. Being a Smilodon means that he has long incisors, but it seems for some reason someone had filed down his incisors, making them useless unless he can put enough force into the blow. However, since he wears his helmet, its impossible for him to use his fang to attack. Leaving his powers and paws as the only offensive means.
- major injuries: none
- minor injuries: none

PERSONALITY:
Once being immature, goofy, and charismatic, Washington was changed completely after the implantation of a computer inside of his head that nearly caused him his death. He is a soldier and hasn't been anything but a soldier in his life, making sure to follow the rules as much as possible. He believes loyalty is everything, and unless given a reason to he will not betray anyone. He is extremely serious and will work himself to exhaustion before trying to relax. Thinking that he must be prepared for everything that will be thrown at it. He prefers to be alone, but that just puts more stress on his head due to the factor that his mental stability is almost nonexistent. Washington is an expert when it comes to regular military strategies, and he almost knows nothing of the clans and how they work. In his mind, he is only on an alien planet and they potentially did something to him. He knows that he needs to get back to the project once the ship had crashed, but now he is actually in a different world. His only plan is to figure out a way to find his goal, and if that means he has to kill anyone in his way to get the information he will do just such. Washington suffers from different lapses of hallucinations and this can be easy for him to snap toward others in a violent manner. Being a soldier, if all else fails he will use violence at his full extent.

RELATIONSHIPS:
★ Single | 1/2 nothing
★ NPC x NPC | Generation 1 | No mentor

POWERS:
★ Electricity Elementals (Not Discovered)
★ Air Elementals (Not Discovered)
★ Earth Elementals (Not Discovered)
★ Fire Elementals (Not Discovered)
★ X-Ray vision (Not Discovered)
★ Teleportation (Not Discovered)

INTERACTION:
★ Message this account to plot
★ Extremely hard to befriend
★ Physically extreme | Mentally easy | Training constantly
★ Will start fights, and will finish them quickly
★ Attack in by tagging account
★ Cannot powerplay peaceful or nonviolent actions. ALL OPINIONS ARE IC

[★ HAZEL]

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[align=center]hazel elise caelum . eight months . the ascendants . golden girl . tags

“Exspecta, exspecta!”

Horror always seemed to bring out Hazel’s Latin tongue, the same way confusion or a sudden burst of contentment did. Whether it flowed better than English or not was lost to the depths of Hazel’s mind as she shoved everything aside: the bond, Bastille, Titaniumstars, her self worth (or lack thereof). Everything took a backseat because there was that chill down her spine; that same one she recognized right before she found Margaery dead in her room and Bastille with a stopped heart.

Because gods above this time it wasn’t blue or muave tinged — it was nearly violet, the reds and blues blurring together. So quickly Hazel had to pause to make sure it wasn’t two different people. Nevertheless, her moment of hesitation lasted a heartbeat before she tore through the observatory, paws working as fast as they could.

She was so close; so close to that little inkling of something akin to happiness. So close to what she could finally call a break. But no, it seemed as if she were cursed: forced to live out the heartbreak of knowing Death was imminent and being so completely fucking helpless in the face of it. Because the harder she ran, the more she picked through peoples’ auras in her mind, the harder her heart slammed against her chest.

Because she knew who it was.

“Suiteheart!” The name fell from her lips in a heartbreaking, broken wail. She skidded to a halt, breath hiccuping and tears already overflowing and she didn’t register Margaery’s words because — Deus — “Quaeso, ne moriar,” Hazel cried, “non opus est tibi, Suite.”

Fuck. Fuck, this was too familiar. Too like Margaery’s death. She hated the sinking feeling in her gut, hated the chill of Death that made her shiver and feel like she was submerged in snow. She hated seeing Suiteheart like this. Hated hearing her voice in the back of her head while she moved her fingers to the correct positioning on the fretboard of Suite’s own ukulele; hated hearing the list of herbs and their purposes over and over; hated hearing her comforting words and her kind smile and her give ‘em hell attitude and her voice that sounded like what a mother’s should be, knowing that she would never hear it again —

God, it was too much.

(Exspecta, exspecta! - wait, wait!
Quaeso, ne moriar - please, don’t die
Non opus est tibi - we need you)

[sup]c) miithers[/sup]