we could be runaways [ open / joining ]

[adomania]

[align=center][div style="borderwidth=0px; width: 55%; line-height:115%; text-align: justify;font-family: calibri;"]It had been about a year.

Eleven long months had passed since Des had last had contact with a group bigger than a few select individuals, staying clear of such places for fear of two things. One, that the events of his past would reemerge and he'd end up becoming more screwed up in the head than he already was... but more prevalent was the fear of getting attached. He had done that once, gotten attached, and it had gone just about as well as anything had for him (which was to say, not at all.) The more people there were, the more chances that he would end up having some sort of sentimental feelings towards those who either wanted him to die or who would die themselves eventually, whether by his own bullet or someone else's. Desperado didn't get good things in his life. This wasn't any different, never had been and never would be.

He had left everything he knew once again after things went awry as a result of that. It had been a year since he had seen his former clan members, nearing three years since he'd last seen his former gang. The latter he didn't mind too much, although the former left an ache in his chest that was only curable by forgetting, which was one of the main reasons that he had picked up an addiction sometime between then and now. It had worked for the first few months, but now both the alcohol, the drugs and the cigarettes didn't do much for him anymore.

It was an addiction that was killing him without even working anymore, and he didn't even have half a mind to care.

He didn't have a mind to care about anything much, really, but he actively avoided that train of thought whenever it came up. He'd get somewhere eventually, whether he cared or didn't, and he found that the longer he dwelled on his past and future the worse his migraines became so it became easier to pretend like everything was alright to avoid them.

Now, he was standing on the border of another group, about to face strangers who didn't know him and or his past, and probably didn't care much for his future... and he felt just as empty as he always did, if only a little bit lighter knowing that he could start over again here.

[VIGENERE CIPHER.]

[Morgan]

Doing his usual rounds, Morgan smiled as he sensed Vigenere near the border. Along with the feline was a stranger - likely a newcomer. The samoyed trotted toward the border to meet them, picking up speed once Vigenere was in view.

Morgan slowed down for the home stretch, halting near Vigenere. He nodded at the outlander and added, "Welcome to Tanglewood." Newcomers were always a good sight, especially when they looked like they already had experience.

[DELILAH.]

[align=center]

DELILAH EVERGARDEN
trans femme ♥ tanglewood ♥ 15 m/o

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[div style="background-color:#F0B1DB;width:90%; overflow: stretch;text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;"]Pinks and purples blended together in the dim light that could actually be reflected on her pelt. She was still shaky from the trap that had captured her, that had twisted her back right paw. It'd be better soon, she knew. But as the pastel feline limped forward, she saw a creature which she didn't really like. Well, she was terrified, honestly. What if this guy tried to kill her? Or her clanmates?

You see, Delilah was known for worrying. Overthinking. Dramatic. She was known for these things, being a big ball of riddling anxiety just because she couldn't trust the things around her anymore. Only Cavalrychoir gave her that soothing feeling, despite the smell of blood that stained his pelt. Despite the fact that he had obviously killed someone hours before. Days before. But for some reason, Delilah couldn't believe that the lynx would hurt anyone.

But this, as she sat down behind Vigenere, truly made her want to run. The atmosphere around this male was tense, almost dreadful. She wished she could read auras, to be honest. She wished she could tell just what type of person this male was. But, she couldn't. She was normal.

Cherry blossoms shed from her pelt, thanks to her aesthetic element, giving her that wonderful cherry blossom smell that others seemed to bask in when wanting something different than the bog of this marsh. Something flowery, beautiful.

Delilah didn't say anything, merely kept close to her friend's hindquarters. She would introduce herself when Morgan and Vigenere did, yes. She had no place in this conversation right now.

[W]isker

[delphinium]

[align=center]

☼ - Delphi was familiar with the concept of a past that continued to follow her. Everyone had their own hidden stories, some intriguing the fledgeling girl more-so than others. She had never been rude enough to ask outright what disturbed people, what kept them up at night, what demons they had left behind in their past lives: although it hadn't stopped the deep blue kitsune from pondering the possibilities in the sanctity of her own spare time. What inevitably kept her own lips together despite her curiosity was sensitivity, knowing she was in no place to ask such questions when she would struggle to answer that exact question if asked toward her. The Sanctuary was where she was born, raised, where she was gifted with Iota, Chlorophytum, Genista, her sisters. Delphinium had been the key subject of research, subjecting her to unusual tests and sizing her up against other "specimen" both in physical alterations and in forcing her to adapt to manipulating the minds of others. Assigned numbers, not even granted the gift of having a name. 015 had been her one and only name to anyone but those she cared most about. What Delphinium saw was nothing in comparison to the horrors others at the Sanctuary had faced, sealed away behind white walls away from prying olive eyes.

Those same eyes now swept across the increasingly familiar landscape of Tanglewood's territory, aged and nearly full grown. They held their childish hope in them still, following in the larger pawsteps of Morgan through the marsh toward what was surely a newcomer. Delphi had not sighted Desperado, nor scented him, but instead sensed his presence without the need for physical senses. As predicted an unknown figure sat at Tanglewood's border, faced by the vaguely familiar Vigenere and Morgan, with another unfamiliar face off to the side behind them. Similar to Delilah there wasn't much the mythic could say, instead choosing to remain silent as she came up alongside the Samoyed, gaze focused on Desperado as she fixed him with a warm smile as the small congregation awaited an answer.