Author Topic: DON'T BE KIND — open, joining  (Read 228 times)

Offline VAN

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DON'T BE KIND — open, joining
« on: March 23, 2018, 07:38:20 PM »
dark eyes peered from a dark frame. brown, if you wanted to be technical, but in the low light of the evening, they appeared as black as the glossy fur covering her frame. her expression danced somewhere between disdainful and apathetic, as though the whole fucking world was tiresome to the pantheress, and in truth, it sort of was. people, traveling, it was dull and tiresome. but it was all she'd known. to walk, to kill, to partake in the social dance she so despised. if life independently wasn't such a pain, always watching over her shoulder, perhaps she wouldn't be here. or perhaps she was here because she believed in the ideals. perhaps yani was there to play the lovely little soldier, who wasn't all that little or all that lovely to encounter. pretty face, ugly personality. perhaps plain was more suiting the femme fatale, though; she wasn't awful, she just held up the mask of apathy all too well.

she didn't like people, didn't particularly care for them. she liked to win, though. she liked to be the top of the food chain. if that meant using manners, she'd do it. if it meant sticking claws into flesh, she'd do that too. but she wasn't all that much of a fan of the barbaric fighting others might fancy; the feline much preferred to play with the mind. it was where her skills lie, where she knew how to navigate best. she could kill with her claws, sure, but she could torture with her mind. such a terrible, twisted thing behind it all. but the moral, the righteous, they didn't often seek out places like this, now did they? no, the warlord ought to know exactly the type he'd have at his border. besides, yani wasn't much of a trouble maker. polite, composed, oh-so demure, just until she had to be otherwise.
feel this emptiness
eighteen — libra — probably dying
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as part of bearbones, you have been vored

hoot takes it back now y’all

(and peggy)

oof love ya even tho you're a stalker - Pyre


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Re: DON'T BE KIND — open, joining
« Reply #1 on: March 23, 2018, 08:43:33 PM »
It was true, he supposed: for a canine with all the patience in the world, he had little to spare for those that had fluff for brains and soft hearts. There was nothing wrong with being happy. Spouting nonsense and lies instead of honesty for the sake of sparing hurt feelings, however, came as a problem to him. It could very well be the way he was raised. His father had been a rabid mongrel, a dog used to fighting to survive - which is why farm life had been so uneasy for him, the same sire that had learned to look over his shoulder every day now being forced to adjust to a life of solitude and peace. His mother, on the other hand, was much like Quietus himself; although not like him, as she loved and felt earnestly, she spoke every word with sincerity and spared her children little. That was why the adult in Quietus could appreciate her more than his child self had. Seeing her again would be impossible, but if he thought hard about it, he could elaborately imagine what they'd say to each other, and how proud she'd probably be.

If he met every apathetic person in the world, he doubted they'd be directly the same as him. He had morals, however deep in the mud they were, and he felt in small bursts that rarely exploded, and if they did it was in pure anger and nothing more. That he shared with his father. Something he did not share, though, was the personality of being dominant, trying to squash others like a bug just to stand a little higher. He could scarcely imagine himself being that person. In a sense, his father had been one, and his father he detested, so it was fair to assume he shared the same distaste for an alpha personality too. Just as he did with ambition. Quietus was simple. Very, very simple.

Not quite in the stupid sense, however. He is intuitive, he could say that much. "What's your business here?" his voice was still that deep growl that it had been when he first came in contact with the survivors, and he hated it so. He used to sound normal. Just as he had looked normal - now he had scales unevenly patching up where fur used to be, two differently colored eyes, and a mouth that salivated with purple stuff he tried his damn hardest not to touch anything with. Quietus was a monster, in other words, and a victim of the radiation in the form of a random Carpathian Shepherd. As he traversed forward from the mountain to scrutinize the stranger, his face was a slight, off-hand mirror of her own. Apathy was a permanent expression, and hard to rid of once you practiced it for so long.
let me crawl inside your veins; I'll build a wall, give
It's not like me to be so mean — you're all I wanted
just let me hold you like a hostage ❞