GOD SAVE THE PROM QUEEN | joiner

[MAGPIERISE.]

[align=center][div style="width: 50%; text-align: justify; font-size: 10pt; letter-spacing: 0px;"]Wanderer, worried and waiting for the drum beat of her heart to wash away. Her breath comes in broken bursts, ragged and pained as she feels the sticky warmth of blood clump in her fur. The traveler delicately keeps her front right paw tucked beneath the mess of fur on her chest. She struggles to keep herself from tumbling over, a slow growing pool forming beneath her as she not so graciously hobbles along and into the unfamiliar territory.

She doesn't wait at the edge for someone to come to her, she needs to sit and rest somewhere safe, she needs to wait for her brothers to catch up. If she got too far ahead they wouldn't be able to find her again. At that thought, her heart drops just slightly, ears pressing against her head a little. She didn't want to get separated from them, she couldn't. Besides, she wanted to brag about being the first to kick the rogue's ass and the last to tap out of the fight.

Magpierise doesn't seem all that concerned with the larger tears in her right shoulder from a bigger canine's teeth ripping into her and shaking her around like she were a ragdoll, merely holding the injured leg off the ground and continuing in her.. quest. Her breathing takes on a lighter tone, flighty, shaky, her vision blurring just a little as she finally sits down somewhere in the midst of The Ascendants' territory, stretching out her injured leg and wincing as she attempts to look over her wounds.

She laughs just a little, an airy, bubbly sound despite the blood loss. "If Loon were here-- I bet I'll get some scars from this." Magpie grins a little, glancing back from where she came, pressing her ears forward to try and listen for any sounds of her brothers trailing behind her. "This is why dad liked me most- didn't lollygag behind." She mutters to herself, snorting and rolling her eyes.

Pipit would be here soon and he'd deal with her wounds like he always did, fretting over his bigger and more mischevious twin siblings, and their eldest brother that tried his hardest to keep the twins in line. Obviously, things didn't always turn out the way he wanted, as seen by the black and white feline's wounds.

[ note: no one else is gonna be posting/joining magpie. i'm bouta get SLAMMED by work but i needed to post this smh ]

[VERSAILLESPALACE]

Versailles is... familiar, with the scent of flesh and blood. Having tended to her own wounds for the better part of her eleven months of living, she's grown sensitive to its rusty tang dancing in the air, so much so that she never really notices she's constantly looking for it until she finds it - and when she does, she always stops in her tracks and takes a deep breath, associating it with a memory she'll never speak of again. It's not like she wants to do it but it happens anyway, a form of self-punishment. It reminds her of her mother, the last she ever smelled before she lost her.

That's why, when she's close enough to the border, she immediately picks up on Magpierise's scent, feeling the memory flutter behind her eyelids - it would've been louder if not for the budding concern nibbling in the she-cats gut. The scent is almost overpowering, Versailles can only imagine the amount of blood, and she's quick to follow the trail it leaves like breadcrumbs, starting from the border and deeper into Ascendant territory. Her pace picks up a few seconds in; she doesn't recognize whoever the scent belongs to but realizes that they must be hurt - an enemy wouldn't enter another group's territory bleeding, so she rationalizes that it must be someone looking for help.

Versailles reaches the newcomer just in time to hear the last of her mutterings. She turns back towards the way they came from, the general direction the scent originated from, and wonders if there will be more that they'll have to tend to. She hopes that they come soon, and she hopes they aren't as badly wounded as this one. Slowly, the blue-and-gold she-cat walks around but makes sure that her pawsteps are loud enough to let the stranger know that she's around. Her pace is slow, almost tentative, keeping her distance until she thinks she's in the other's line of sight.

"Hey," Versailles starts, but she isn't quite sure how to finish her greeting - or what to even say, she's never been the most well-versed in communication. Her head cocks to one side curiously, moving over the newcomer's form, investigating, before returning back to her face. She ducks her head a little to try and get a good look, but reminds herself not to be too invasive unlike some people in the group. "You look like you need some help with those wounds... I can call a Cleric, if you want?"

;; THREE CHEERS FOR VERSAILLES' DUMB BITCH SYNDROME
HEP HEP
HOORAY

[Cosmic]

The smell of blood nearby was what caught my attention, and I turned to try and follow the distinct scent. It didn't take me too long to find who the smell belonged to, but I didn't recognize her at all. But she looked to be pretty beat up. She needed treatment for those wounds.

"Hey, ma'am. You're on the Ascendant's territory. I will offer you treatment if you want, but will you be joining?" Hell, I would have treated her regardless of whether or not she was joining anyway. As a healer, I made it a personal rule to never let anyone go without treatment or care. I mean, I wasn't official, but that never stopped me from caring.

"I'm Playerone. And you are...?"

[imperia]

[align=center][div style="width: 51%; text-align: justify; font-size: 10pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: georgia;"]Like any true predator, the stench of blood is what lures her here as it is carried along by the wind. As it tickles the button black nose of the nearby huntress, one would imagine that it inspire some sort of mouth-watering reaction as her brain prepares to digest its next meal. In any other carnivore, perhaps it would. But not Imperia. Her first instinct is panic, lithe figure moving on autopilot as she charges into the sea of grasses with uncanny grace. The silvery she-wolf leaps nimbly through the plains, barely sparing a glance to double-check she still wears her leather medic's satchel. Well, it's more of a glorified first aid kid that also contains whatever shiny rocks or pretty flowers that she has picked up along the way. But she carries it for these purposes--to be able to help anyone at a moment's notice. The girl does not even stop to consider the possible danger.

She is swift and sure-footed as she bursts from the grasses, emerald blades tugging desperately as luxurious sterling fur and tangling leaves within the gunmetal locks. Versaillespalace is already present, a fact which does not surprise her. The she-cat is rather feral, and strikes Imperia as the sort of person who prefers the solitude of the grasslands over the hustle and bustle of the main encampment. Peri arrives just in time to hear the ending of Vers's address to the wounded stranger. "Oui, please call a cleric. I will do what I can, in the meantime." Normally, Imperia would stop to take the time and introduce herself, but she is hastened with anxiety. It is urgent that she try to stop the bleeding before it gets any worse. She does not even notice Playerone as she crouches beside the injured feline.

"Stop me if necessary," she says, gazing straight into the eyes of the stranger. The girl wants to make it clear that she will take no offense if Magpierise does not want her to help. Some people do not appreciate strangers touching them. But until she is instructed to stop, Peri begins by taking a wet rag and trying to clean off some of the blood, searching for the wounds within the matted mess of fur. "My name is Imperia, by the way. Do you mind telling me how this happened?" Always helps to ask, especially when it might lead to the discovery of a less obvious wound. Besides, it keeps the patient focused on reality, lessening the risk of them drifting into unconsciousness. Peri very obviously could not care less about asking for the she-cat's anme and business. That can come later.

[Margaery]

MARGAERY FOLIE-MIKAELSON

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MAKE ME QUEEN OR
I'LL MAKE YOU BLEED

It was always the blood that lulled Margaery in, her instincts clouding her rational mind as Genevieve fed and fed and fed eagerly on the familiar tang of copper that cut through the air. She hated that the beast inside of her was so quick to drop everything just to find another potential meal, her brain screaming so loudly, so clearly that it was time to eat, that she needed to. Had to. If she hadn't been doing this for one thousand years, she would have been frightened by how quickly everything stopped and she simply shifted into a predator, paws leading her closer and closer to the injured. To her next victim.

She always managed to get a handle on herself though, especially upon inevitably discovering that the bleeding girl. Imperia beat her to asking how exactly she had received such injuries, so Margaery took it upon herself to sink her claws into the ground and smile. [b]"Margaery," She introduced easily, "Those don't look good at all, love."

//wow super rushed bc of work!!

© MADI

[Suiteheart]

SUITE
HEART

Much like the chocolate point that proceeded her, Suiteheart was drawn towards the metallic tang of blood in hopes of feeding. Baby blue irises became speckled; flecks of molten amber popped up across her eyes. The yellowish dots grew in intensity, gaining power until the color completely took over the azure of seconds ago. Some primal urge to hunt and kill exploded within her - the feelings were only magnified as she felt Margaery through their shared bond.

'Oh, finally! I've been waiting for this for a while. You know how hard it is to convince you to actually kill? You don't even kill your 'victims,' you just knock them out and drain a bit of blood to tide you over. You're a fucking vampire, and you don't even have it in you to kill? You're a pathetic bitch... But now? Hm, maybe I should make sure you and Genny are together all the time. She'll get you to kill if I can't,' Aerona spat in her mind, voice ringing in Suiteheart's ears. Suiteheart didn't need Aerona's coaxing. No, Genevieve was doing all the hard work. Perhaps it was unintentional, but Genevieve was using the sire bond to communicate her plans to Suiteheart.

Petite white paws thundered across the grounds. It took her no time at all to run up on the scene. Luckily for everyone, Margaery had regained control of herself, banishing her need to feed (and the thoughts of murder that came with that). All at once, her amber stare faded into bright cerulean. As she came to her senses and Aerona took her leave, Suiteheart found herself staring intently at Magpierise.

Something stirred within Suiteheart as she looked at the injured joiner. There was something about her that was so familiar. The white feline's fictional eyebrows drew together in puzzlement. One soul within her was trying to speak, to make a connection, but the Ecliptic Admiral couldn't make sense of it... Surely she was just disoriented from moments ago.

"I'm," she said, finally opening her maw, "Suiteheart." She pursed her lips. Had she seen this female before? Maybe they had interacted back home. This was all so confusing. "Play, Peri, let me know if I can help." She fell silent as she moved closer to the group, standing in the middle of Margaery and Versaillespalace.

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

© [color=black]MADI