CHAPTER ONE, THE IDIOT + o, joining

[MOONMADE]

[size=9pt]It'd been going smoothly- no uncalled for bowel movements, no fainting, no encountering cannibals-- but then he smelt them. Over the hill, on the horizon, propelling themselves at full speed towards him, then around him, then on him. He was a whole fucking Lion but a teenager, still and the wolves came in a pack, four or so. They managed to tear at his leg until they realized one of his paws could crush their ribcage if given the time of day, and took off. It didn't last long, and there were no injuries that would prove permanent, but he was limping when he finally turned up at the border. Convenient stuff. An excellent first impression.

The sun is sinking and so is his will to stand, so he falls to the ground in a mound of golden fur and stares, like a dog begging to be walked, into the distance before him. He's heard of these before, Clans and such. A bunch of animals gathered together, building up weird hierarchies and making problems for themselves. He's never wanted to join them, because, quite frankly, Moon has no interest in allies and enemies and battle and titles, but now his family is dead and he's spent the last week going hungy and he can feel his pancake getting flatter by the second, so he figures desperate times call for desperate measures. Now all his has to do is wait for some scarred animal with a bad attitude and smelly breath to find him, and he might have to sacrifice a goat or chop off one of his thumbs to get in or something, but at least he'll be somewhere. At least he'll have somebody.

He's beginning to say goodbye to his dignity as he calls a faint,"Hello?" into the plains, feeling very much like that one cartoon that the humans watch, where the cub's Dad gets pushed off the cliff by his emo brother and he has to run into the dessert, all emotional and shit. All it's missing is some vulchers, a meerkat, and a hog, but he's sure they're on their way. He sucks in a breath that he realizes is shaky and thinks, it'd be a real shame if he were to die before overthrowing some king or hakuna matataing with a pretty lioness. 

[BUBONICPLAGUE]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; padding: 10px; height: auto; overflow: auto;"][div style="width: 400px; padding: 0px; line-height: 14px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica;"]the smell of blood and a weak call was what brought him. the taste of copper in the air was strong, pooling around a young lion laying helplessly upon the rise of a hill. he wasn't looking forward to socializing, not really. but it would leave a bad impression on his still-new groupmates if he just kept walking.

bubonicplague approached in silence, pausing a few steps away from the other. sightless eyes drew over him, almost scrutinizing, before a quiet sigh breathed out of his maw. the dire wolf's nostrils flared as he breathed in the smell of the lion's blood, and though it wasn't life threatening, he could just barely find it in himself to be concerned. "are you alright?" he asked plainly. "i can get a healer or... 'cleric' or whatever they're called. though i'll need your name before anything."

[VERSAILLESPALACE]

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VERSAILLESPALACE

Versailles isn't unfamiliar with the dangers of the wild - in fact, she has lived her whole life in severe isolation until living became nothing more than surviving and, subsequently, nothing. She'd joined the Ascendants not too long ago in search of a purpose and, while she hasn't quite found it, she figures she should hold up her end of the bargain and ensure that any potential newcomer won't be turned away - they said there's safety in numbers; while Versailles doesn't necessarily agree with that (she thinks quite the opposite), she does acknowledge that living with others helps alleviate the crushing loneliness of living alone.

The blue and gold pads over and spares the downed lion a glance - big creature, big target - and she lets out a soft huff before turning to the other Ascendant there. The direwolf is bigger than both of them, but he smells the same as anyone - there is no fear or wavering lingering in the much smaller she-cat, only a curious twinge of her gossamer whiskers, a flick of her prehensile tail. "I'm gonna be frank, big guy, I don't know who the 'cleric' is yet so it'd probably be best that you go find them," she starts with a cock of her head, golden eyes never leaving Bubonicplague. "I bet we can save the questions later and just get him someone who could keep his leg from getting infected or something. Gangrene's not fun."

With a shrug of her shoulders, a familiar gesture to the she-cat, she turns back to the lion and carefully brushes the tip of her tail across his shoulder - a reassuring but slight gesture, barely even touching. Her expression doesn't changes, but a flicker of warmth swirls in her eyes, the most anybody could ever even get out of the feline. "No need to tire yourself out. Someone will be along to help you out."

TAGS • PLAYLIST • MOODBOARD • PENNED BY LEXASPERATED

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© LEXASPERATED

[Margaery]

MARGAERY FOLIE-MIKAELSON

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MAKE ME QUEEN OR
I'LL MAKE YOU BLEED

Like always, it was the scent of blood that drew her in, whispering promises of a quick meal - an easy meal - into her ears as chocolate capped paws led her closer and closer to what her mind registered as her next victim. Margaery was no stranger to the wilderness or its terrors. There were things that lurked in the shadows of the uncharted that could eat a girl like her alive. Being a vampire helped though, especially given immortality and its gift of endless life. She was a huntress at her core, maybe even a monster, and as she stalked towards the scene, she could only relish in the satisfaction of how painfully easy this meal was. She had killed many in her extended lifetime, been those things that occupied uncharted lands and ripped unsuspecting visitors to shreds. A part of her (probably Genevieve, honestly) couldn't wait to dig her teeth into-

A lion?

Margaery would blink a few times, her desire to kill all but dissipating the moment she realized she could not make Moonmade  a meal. What a shame, Genevieve hissed in the back of her mind. As always, the chocolate point simply ignored her, instead forcing a friendly smile onto her expression. [b]"Do you need anything in the meantime while we wait for a cleric, love?" She inquired easily, behaving as if she had not just wanted to eat this newcomer minutes before. Margaery would glance idly in Bubonicplague and Vera's directions, a quick nod being her only greeting to the pair. "I'm Margaery, by the way."

© MADI

[MOONMADE]

[size=9pt]Huh. A crowd. They'd gathered fast, hadn't they? Maybe these were the vulchers. The first guy, big dog guy, watched Moon with mediocre interest at best, but the shecat seemed thirsty for something, that's for sure. He eyes her as he picks himself up on lanky paws, gathering to his full height above the rest. "I'm good, I'm good," he rasps, leaning heavily on his good limb. "I can sort myself out if you get me some... Herbs and shit. Bandages, maybe, but you guys seem pretty off the grid-- you don't have that sort of stuff, do you?"

He listens to the back and forward between the wolf and the other shecat, and frowns gently. "Hey," says the lion, feigning offense. His words slur very slightly. "Gangrene's great company." There's a grin on his maw, lazy, but it dims when a tail drags across his shoulder and he looks, slightly suspicious at Margeary. "I'm all good, but maybe you could grab yourself a snack, huh? I know I look juicy but I'm about as dehydrated as a raisin right now, sweetheart."

It only after he speaks that he realizes there's a chance he's digging his own grave, so he takes his metaphorical shovel and snaps it between his jaws. Time to fix the attitude. "I was actually interested in, uh, joining you guys." There's a sheepishness to his voice, merely an undertone, but present all the same. "I don't care about your whole-- introduction tradition or whatever, I'll do it, I just need in. I can't hunt for shit and I can feel my mane falling out by the roots. I don't wanna be one of those guys who balds as a teenager."

[imperia]

[align=center][div style="width: 51%; text-align: justify; font-size: 10pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: georgia;"]If this newcomer thought three or four people was a lot, then he is in for a surprise when he reaches the Grand Circle. Their numbers have swelled within recent days. Joiners, visitors, and the occasional guest. It all added up into one mass community of creatures. Yes, patrolling is among everyday responsibilities, but it also provides an escape from the cluster of people. As much as Imperia adores socializing, it is refreshing to get out and stretch her legs, perhaps even welcome someone new into this special place. She also wanders to escape her thoughts, allowing her legs to carry her to distant locations in order to distract herself from the dizzying loneliness which plagues her.

Sounds of discussion nearby lures the petite she-wolf from the protective cover of the plains, and the slender creature emerges silently with the agile grace of a deer. Lush green grass bows in lieu of her lithe figure, revealing sleek argentine fur and bright eyes the color of moondust. Imperia arrives just in time to hear the last bits of conversation, and finds herself smiling faintly in amusement upon hearing this stranger's manner of speaking. While she does not comment on anything spoken specifically to another person, Peri is compelled to offer her services in healing as soon as sagacious silver eyes spot the male's bloodied hide. "I am no cleric, but I can patch up your wounds for you. Would that be alright?" based on just a glance, they seem to be mostly superficial, so there should be no harm in helping him out. The newcomer will sooner starve than bleed to death, as can be determined from his sickly appearance. Lucky for him, she also carries snacks.

"There is no joining ritual. You are welcome to stay as long as you follow the rules," she says with a friendly smile. It is clear that the lovely young wolf finds the other to be amusing. So much so that she even went so far as to tease him about his behavior. "Welcome to the Ascendants, mon ami. My name is Imperia--what's yours?"

[VERSAILLESPALACE]

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VERSAILLESPALACE

Versailles watches as the interaction further unfolds with the lion raising up and addressing them all in a - well, an odd way that she can't quite place. She thinks there's a glimmer of desperation in his voice but she's never been too good at reading people, doesn't trust her own judgement on the matter. Instead, she takes a step back and hums an acknowledgement, sort of. It's a casual sound that doesn't mean much other than agreeing to what the other Ascendants said. She would've chuckled at the going-bald comment but doesn't, instead cocks her head and inspects his mane before deciding that it must've been an exaggeration.

"I'd offer to hunt for you but I don't think rabbits and the occasional pheasant would be enough to sate your..." The she-cat trails off, glancing absently at Imperia and at Margaery before shrugging again. She doesn't particularly notice that she's inched a little bit closer to the latter, but it's enough to give her a little bit of a boost. The other has always been rather graceful in terms of interaction, and Versailles? Well, nobody can blame her, really; she'd spent her life without even seeing another soul, doesn't quite know what they expect of her yet. She's used to piggybacking on what other people are saying, if only to make herself appear less incompetent.

When Imperia is introducing herself, Versailles takes it as a cue to begin that part of the joining, the part she'd walked away from when she first joined the Ascendants. It hadn't exactly been a nice welcome - but at least she can try to make his a lot better than hers. "My name is Versailles. My nickname is Versailles. Once you're all patched up, it would be ideal for you to be brought to camp so you can rest that leg."

TAGS • PLAYLIST • MOODBOARD • PENNED BY LEXASPERATED

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© LEXASPERATED

[Roy Mustang]

Roy knew his fair share of dangers, whether it be in this world or his old home. Back at home, his life was just beginning to spiral downward into chaos- while he was ranked Colonel in the Amestrian military, the plots the senior staff had in mind was beginning to surface. Which meant anyone who tried to stop them would be at the risk of loosing their lives, whether they died trying to save their country or they were murdered to keep things quiet. As crazy as it was turning, there are many times where Roy wishes he and Riza were still there- trying to stop the corrupt government. What got them sent here was a danger of itself- human transmutation isn't exactly a walk in the park, after all. It cost them their lives, and sometimes Roy thought this life was worse than permanent death.

The scent of blood grabbed his attention, the male trailing away from his designated path. He found himself following the scent, ears drawing backwards as he wondered what he'd come across.

When the melanistic bobcat came padding in, he entered just in time to hear Moonmade, the stranger, speak up. He insisted that he was fine, despite the various wounds on his body. Clearly he wasn't exactly fine, if they're grabbing attention and people offering their aid to him. The Flame Alchemist's gaze locked on the wounds for a moment, ears pricking up as he listened to Moonmade speak. There weren't any joining rituals that Moonmade has to complete, but Roy wished at least a swearing of loyalty could be enforced. Roy wasn't exactly the most welcoming member, he didn't trust strangers and newcomers easily one bit. Roy didn't even trust his groupmates for the first month of his time here, it took time for him to put trust into some of the people he cares for the most now. "I am Roy Mustang," He introduced himself to Moonmade, eyes blinking as his gaze moved from the male's wounds and onto his face.

[MOONMADE]

[size=9pt]"I," he begins, and he's dead set on finishing, but for the moment he just kind of watches the silver wolf like perhaps he's hallucinating. There's such irony in the fact that he'd literally just been attacked by a pack of the same creature, and yet, this she-wolf stands in front of him and he really wouldn't give a shit if she tore him up a bit. Alas, she's offering to heal him, instead."I'd be alright with that. I mean, I can do it myself, though, if you guys have the equipment." Golden eyes glance away from Imperia and towards the rest, a passing look. "I'm not here to scavenge, or nothing."

But then come the introductions, and Moon puts his vows on hold. He looks back to the silver thing introducing herself and smiles something softer than his earlier grin. "Moon." He replies, distracted, and then catches himself, "Moonmade, actually, but people don't take me seriously when I say that, so call me Moon if it helps. It's nice to meet you all. I'm glad you're not the cannibals I thought you were." It sounds joking but the lion is entirely serious. One paw lifted, the teenager addresses Imperia again, even in his disoriented state. "I hear the French say Luna, or some shit, though, so go wild, Parisian."

[trojan g.]

do you believe you could change me? the way i changed you.

Roman was always curious as to newcomers at the border, especially if the newcomers came bearing the scent of blood. Although he knew that they couldn't help whether or not they came with injuries or not, he was surprised that there would be others who would come to the border of some strangers hoping for mercy just when they were attacked by others who were just as unknown as they were. For all Moon knew, those at the Ascendants could have simply said 'fuck it' and killed him then and there instead of offering him the help they were giving. Of course, not every clan was as nice as the one that Moon seemed to have stumbled upon.

Roman was one of the scarred felines that the other had been worried about meeting in the beginning though he was sure his breath didn't really smell, and he liked to think he was a pretty nice guy. Not to mention the fact that he wasn't a cannibal and quite often ate baked goods and drank beer, so there was no need to worry about him eating the other. Even if he wanted to, Roman was quite smaller than Moon anyway, being a russian blue domestic and all.

When he finally arrived with a few items - small bandages and some small herbs that could normally be found around this type of territory, as he had smelled the blood and decided to gather things - it brought the feline back to when he was a child, learning different herbs to help others while also trying to make sure what happened to himself didn't happen to others, trying to make sure no one lost a leg. "Might be great company, but not the best of friends." The feline would speak at last, offering a smile to the other, shoving the small mix of things over towards the larger animal's way. "I'm not a cleric, so I don't have much, but I can help out if needed, name's Roman. Sorry to hear you thought we were cannibals, but I'm glad we're not either."