I'VE GOTTA HAND IT TO YOU : open, joining

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    [align=center][fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 400px; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;]After wasting a lot of his time setting fire to religious buildings who's frames did not agree with his way of life, Mahanon had eventually wound up in clan territory, without his sister Ellana and without any idea of where the fuck he was going. He wasn't particularly keen on spending most of his life rolling around on his own, though, as much as the other option involved Shems - which was a term fast becoming synonymous with 'everyday people'. He didn't have much of a choice, though, unfortunately, because an elven mage could only survive so long on his own.


    Anyway, Mahanon washed up on BoneClan's border, inevitably, his green eyes narrowed with a sort of vehement irritation, though it was all-round muted by a sense of hostile suspicion (which wasn't much better, to be honest). Pacing back and forth, the male awaited a patrol, or something - he didn't know how these Shem clans worked, but he knew he wasn't allowed to cross the border.


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    More and more joiners seemed to be arriving at the border, something that although Saitou didn't mind, he was starting to get tired of. Tired of walking to and fro just to accept someone in and then walk off, probably left to never see them again. He was still recovering from his death and return, as short as it had been, and everything was still extremely hard for him to do. Walking? Forget about it. Getting up in the morning to try and get to the border in the freezing cold was god awful.


    But there he found himself again, yawning seeing as he had just woken up from a short nap. The alabaster wolf made his way over to stand infront of Mahanon, a lazy smile on his maw, body slack, yet golden oculi sharp attentive and slightly wary of the stranger. He could visibly see the other's... hostility, but he decided to not take it into account. God knew what kind of stick he had shoved up his ass, and Saitou wasn't one to try and push it in deeper. Kinky.


    "What can I help you with this fine day?" he inquired, a yawn escaping him before he leaned against the katana at his side. At least it was better than name and business, right? Currently the star lacked all of his creative energy to come up with something a bit more innovative. [/fancypost]
    [fancypost borderwidth=0;font-size:9px;]★ [abbr=star spirit - immortal - ageless - knows Japanese, Chinese and Korean - obsessed with Asian culture - obsessed with tea - carries katana around wherever he goes - extremely serious - extremely violent in battle - actually very kind but wont show it - hp of boneclan - intersex - male pronouns - pregnant - alcoholic - has a natural cinnamon and tea leaf scent - amnesiac]information[/abbr] - battle tags - relationships - plot - bio ★
    #hippytemplate

    [align=center][fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 400px; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;]kinky im choking


    Mahanon's gaze was sharp and critical as it swept over Saitou, though the male's politeness - if not set off by the yawn and the very flashy katana - was enough to cause his squinted eyes to widen just a tad, if not out of sheer instinct. It was less of an I'm angry stare, now, and more of an I'm naturally suspicious due to childhood conditioning, but nevertheless capable of making my own choices and deducing that you are not an immediate threat stare. A small and subtle change, but a drastic one nonetheless.


    The male shifted from foot to foot, sharp ears sweeping upwards and angling towards Saitou. " I don't know where I am, but I'm joining, if you'll have me. " he tried to tell himself that clanners weren't like the people he knew, but old habits died hard. " I'm Mahanon, by the way. Mahanon Lavellan. "


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    ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


    Saitou had easily discerned the subtle change in Mahanon's demeanor, though he didn't do much to point it out other than quirk a metaphoric brow in his direction. The smile didn't fail to stay on his maw, and he offered a polite dip of his head towards the male.


    "You're in Boneclan. Don't let the name frighten you too much, though. We have an auto acceptance policy so you're in. That easy," Saitou replied, though his eyes turned a bit more serious. The auto acceptance policy was bound to destroy them one day, but oh well. "And it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. As for me, I'm Saitou. Just Saitou," he continued, shrugging. He wasn't all about last names, even if he held quite a few. Not like anyone would remember him by them. He was Saitou. No one needed to know more.


    "If you require anything you're free to come to me. Don't like flashing titles around, but I'm both a bandit and an herb-to-be around here, so I'm available if you want both technical and medical assistance."
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    [fancypost borderwidth=0;font-size:9px;]★ [abbr=star spirit - immortal - ageless - knows Japanese, Chinese and Korean - obsessed with Asian culture - obsessed with tea - carries katana around wherever he goes - extremely serious - extremely violent in battle - actually very kind but wont show it - hp of boneclan - intersex - male pronouns - pregnant - alcoholic - has a natural cinnamon and tea leaf scent - amnesiac]information[/abbr] - battle tags - relationships - plot - bio ★
    #hippytemplate

    ☆☆☆

    As I Focus on the Clock




    [font=georgia]Qubix noticed the newcomer with a stare. Yes, he seemed fine. It was always do to welcome others, since you always had a chance at making new friends! The green feline slipped over from behind Saitou with a wide glance, a smile curling againest his cheeks and spreading all his features. "Hey there! My name is Qubix Wantana," shaking his head, the male met the joiners eyes with a blue gaze. "Welcome to Boneclan."




    [font=newtimesroman]Time stands still but I cannot


    [font=timesnewroman]Qubix Wantana of Boneclan


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    BoneClan, frighten him? Shems, he thought. Always assuming that their names and whatnot were frightening — he'd probably hear of a DeadClan or a BloodClan, next, he thought, a little disdainfully. Still, it was better than FriendClan, he supposed, nodding. Saitou? It wasn't a particularly Shem name, but the harsh 't' was a reminder that this BoneClanner was not like him.


    As the male showed off his ranks — Bandit, Herb-to-be? — Mahanon noted them down mentally, nodding. Medical and technical issues could go to Saitou, or anybody else with similar titles, then. " I see, " he said, begrudgingly. " Thank you, " he said, sticking to the common tongue as much as he wanted to lob Elvhen in there, just to feel like he knew something they didn't. Alas, he was blissfully polite, keeping to a language they all shared.


    A Shem language, mind.


    Bloody Shems.


    He then looked to Qubix, who was ... very green, and very happy. Like an optimistic tree. " Mahanon, if you didn't here, " he introduced in turn, eyeing both creatures with a quiet dubiousness. " So, where's your ... camp? " he assumed they called it a camp - his clan had - but he could never be sure with Shems.


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    A small chuckle escaped Saitou as he calmly observed Mahanon, tilting his head slightly to the side to take him in. If only he knew. If only both of them knew, actually. If Mahanon had managed to throw some elven into the sentence, Saitou would have gladly replied back in the same language. He wasn't one of these... shems, as he referred to. He wasn't an elf either, per se, but he had lived among them once. He had been an elven star. Now he was just a star who knew the elven language.


    "Camp's over there," he stated, flicking his wing towards the general direction of it. [b]"And if that's it and you have nothing else to bring to my attention, then I'll be off."
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    [fancypost borderwidth=0;font-size:9px;]★ [abbr=star spirit - immortal - ageless - knows Japanese, Chinese and Korean - obsessed with Asian culture - obsessed with tea - carries katana around wherever he goes - extremely serious - extremely violent in battle - actually very kind but wont show it - hp of boneclan - intersex - male pronouns - pregnant - alcoholic - has a natural cinnamon and tea leaf scent - amnesiac]information[/abbr] - battle tags - relationships - plot - bio ★
    #hippytemplate

    ☆☆☆

    As I Focus on the Clock


    //hE A TREE
    LOOK AT HIM GO



    [font=georgia]"Well, right now, I'm sure this is the border," Shifting in chin, the male glanced skyward and blinked. What a general question, however. Looking back at Mahanon, he shrugged. "Camp is hurt over there, I'm sure. I only joined a couple days ago, though, so I'm not much use at all!" After saying, he surprisingly laughed in a good nature, despite believing what he said about himself.


    //ninjaed oops



    [font=newtimesroman]Time stands still but I cannot


    [font=timesnewroman]Qubix Wantana of Boneclan


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    /faaaaaan


    Lavellan? Maker's balls. Oh, if only he had spoken that aloud- perhaps it would have offended the fellow, who was -and this Dorian was quite confident in concluding- of the same people that Dorian had lived his life sitting on. They weren't especially cushiony seats, mind you, but he had, nonetheless, sat on them, and the ebony lion didn't doubt this Mahanon would be able to discern Dorian's origins. There was a phrase that came to mind: 'you can take the man out of Tevinter, but not Tevinter out of the man.' It was true enough, if an appropriated version of the original quote. "Ah. Welcome to BoneClan, Mahanon. Dorian Pavus." The creature bowed, briefly, as he could admit he wasn't entirely comfortable in this male's presence, but naturally, he would give no expression of it. "There are plenty of empty houses to settle into; perhaps we'll even wind up as neighbors." That was unlikely.
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    [fancypost borderwidth=0pt; width: 400px;][justify][size=8]Apollo could feel slight protectiveness overcoming him as he arrived, eyes shifting to Dorian, noticing his slight discomfort. He moved to brush his pelt against his boyfriend's, eyes shifting to the joiner. "Apollo Vennum. Pleasure."

    [align=center][fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 400px; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;]It was a shame, then, that Mahanon had not slipped into his preferred language — his respect for Saitou would have skyrocketed, and any hostility would have completely ebbed away. It was not difficult to gain his admiration — providing it was not difficult for Shems to learn languages, that was. Anybody with a grasp of Elvhen had his attention immediately — even the basic attempt at a greeting earned gratification, as prickly as he was.


    Following the male's gesture, Mahanon nodded briefly, signalling it was fine for the other to take his leave. Lavellan had no need for him, anyway, not at present. His eyes then wandered back to that green fellow, who had a very self-deprecating sense of humour. Ah, well. At least he wasn't high and mighty — it was an improvement, needless to say. " Right, " he decided to remark, nodding. " Good to know. " so there was a self-important sort-of-Shem, and a ridiculously useless Shem. Who next?


    A Vint.


    Of course.


    Not that Mahanon immediately recognised him — he'd never been near Tevinter, and with good reason, too. He'd asked, multiple times, why they couldn't go to the Shem kingdom and ruin things, but supposedly, Vints liked elves in ... the wrong way. The slave-y way. And Mahanon would not be a good slave — he despised the idea, being a true forest-dweller and all. Still, he had vowed to wreak havoc there one day, if not to get revenge on the self-important, magic-wielding Shems for cursing his people.


    As he'd never been even close to Dorian's homeland, however, Mahanon was unaware that this was anybody he was meant to hate, and just saw him as another Shem, which was bad enough on its own. Still, the lion paraded an air of politeness, so the elf wouldn't begin to draw conclusions just yet. He was trying not to, at least. Aside from the fact that he was grossly racist, he didn't want to tar everybody with the same brush, especially not if these were the people he was spending the rest of his time with — or so it looked like, from here.


    He was living with Shems because of Shems! The madness!


    Then looking to Apollo, who stood beside Dorian and watched Mahanon as if he expected the elf to murder the lion on the spot, the mage sighed, setting his jaw and nodding. Yes, yes, already being eyed like a criminal — whether they knew who he was or not, their small minds were automatically viewing him with even the slightest sense of suspicion. " And you, " he forced himself to reply, nodding.


    : /sits on paunica
    helloooooo
    i can never stay away for long


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