WALKING A WIRE / JOINING

[DARKPRINCE]

[align=center][div style="max-width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 1.4;letter-spacing:.1px"]The air is cooler here. Winter has dulled the grasslands, a cool brown color and a pale sky. He can't say that he misses summer, but he's certainly not looking forward to the chill. The world as a whole feels displeasing — a feeling that isn't necessarily new, yet catches his attention anyway with its sheer cynicism. He wants nothing to do with this world or anything in it, but unfortunately his paws still touch the earth; people still see him and speak. His desire to be a ghost had started when he was young and hadn't quite left him yet. It had always been said that that was the easiest way to get things in his life done, except the ending would never be exactly right if they were intangible. Maybe that would be for the best these days — that's not a thought the lion dares to voice. He's lost too much to doubt now (but what else could he lose?).

It doesn't matter; there's too much to list. Dark keeps his head low and does as he's told, and really that's where he went wrong in life. It led him here. Grass tickles his paws and the middle of his legs, thankfully not quite reaching his stomach. He can smell the group ahead of him and slows to a stop, quiet frown darkening his admittedly already dark features. Pale eyes look exhausted and blank. He would be a statue if his tail wasn't flicking behind him, a sign of his annoyance, but he doesn't bother to speak.

[align=right]— INFO

[clarence a.]

[align=center][div style="width: 45%; text-align: justify; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: times new roman;"]Clarence wanted far too much to do with the world. He was expected to step to the side and let everything play out just the way it was supposed to. To take orders, to let things fall in a natural order, to defend his country, to make sure the ship and it's crew returned to London safe. He hadn't been able to do any of it. He'd done so well for so long. He'd shoved down everything. He'd refused to acknowledge the death of his beloved friend, he managed to focus on the fact once the job was over, his family would never want for anything, he kept a straight, guided mind. Then Finnis got himself surrounded. They'd gotten along well enough and he couldn't bear to sit by and watch his friend die. Not again. He couldn't bear it a second time. If he hadn't yelled, he might not have even been noticed. But he did and someone shot him before he went overboard. He wasn't sure what happened to Finnis, but he had a good idea. It'd been an impossible situation. He shuddered to think of what'd likely become of the Queen Charlotte that night. In fact, he tried quite hard to not think about it. It didn't really work, not with the terrible dreams that'd been plaguing him in the night, but the least he could do was keep all of that out of his waking hours.

He'd just been on a normal walk, trying to make more sense of this place. Now that he'd had some time here, he was starting to settle in. He'd even started thinking of the talking animals as people. He could connect with them and talk with them, after all. They may not be human in shape, but most seemed so in mind. That was enough for now. He still wasn't leaving behind the theory this was all some sort of terrible, fevered dream, but even if that were true, he wasn't sure what he could do with that information. It was better to just play along with his withering mind for now.

He noticed an unfamiliar figure nearby and approached quietly, settling down with near perfect posture as he regarded the other creature, a lion. He was starting to be less surprised by the creatures arriving at their borders, though he had to admit seeing such a beast so calm was a bit surprising to him still. "Who are you?" It wasn't a particularly kind question but he also wasn't rude. It came with a clear, cool professional voice. Something authoritative but not necessarily hostile. A neutral voice was a good thin to have in conflict, after all.

[ATTICUS]

―――― Kit, in his time, had grown used to seeing a range of small to large, and plain up strange or fantasy-tale like creatures approach their borders. Given it was somewhat of his duty to help be in charge of the Ascendants, or at least he said that he was obligated to help keep a bunch of idle work off of Agathe's plate, he walked these borders often to greet any who may be appearing for the first time. Hence, when a quiet figure sat alone on the border, there was no chime of panic or concern within his gaze, his paws only lazily turning to start approaching as Clarence's voice perked his ears from afar. Who are you? Well, that was rather straight to the point, wasn't it? There was a brief flicker of amusement within his eyes as the melanistic jaguar carried himself forward. His paws stopped him quietly next to Clarence's side, and for a moment he glanced between the two creatures, a set of steely golden eyes surveying between the two, eyeing the way in which they sat and held themselves, anticipating anything that might occur. He slowly sank back onto his haunches as Clarence's question rang into the air, only drawing in a breath himself to add. "Welcome to the Ascendants.  In addition to your name, how can we help you?" while his voice maintained a low rumble, his voice was soft, and he at least tried to make it sound as if he had not asked that question a million times already before. It was simply business, at the end of the day, and now he sat waiting for the answers to the questions that they posed.

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