ooc: please wait for CHILD SOUL to reply first! <3
Simple. It can be described as dainty flowers plucked from meadowlands by wandering fingers, delicious aroma of mother's homemade apple pie on windowsill, soft laughs of darling lover while lips mold together and teeth lightly clack on another. A crisp crunch to fill sweet spring air at the action of pearly whites to pop into red flesh of an apple. Yet such states of easy going happiness hold little interest for a man who only knows of stone cold corpses that lay at sinner feet and winter's cruel laugh towards those who dare defy it. Devastation is his accomplice and misery his loaded gun, rather drown in frenzied mayhem than drift on the lazy river of deserved comfort and validation. He's in it the the kicks, the thrills, the created chaos caused by sharp tongue that slices too paper thin flesh. It's what being alive is for him. Ain't no rest for the wicked, as they say.
Lone man traverses new lands on own accord, memories of old world to surface every so often, quiet reminisce of days long gone. Nagging question if one who means the world, chosen family than one of bloodline, is still living or one among many lost, dead. Heart wrenching it is. Too painful to dwell on and busied self with traveling, sightseeing, if you will. Gain insight of foreign landscapes, note details who lives where, terrain claimed by clans or free range lands that loners and rogues call home. Little over a month did he live alone, grateful for independence where no expectant eyes demand help in silence to keep "home" together. Bluelagoon has never been one for a community lifestyle, high preference to remain alone or reside with select few. Loyalties take home in certain individuals, not clans, for they change as the wind– unpredictable and sudden.
Yet doesn't stop Bluelagoon from becoming apart of the Sanctuary again, greet old friend with open arms and lazy banter, change name for new meaning, new life. Loner at heart he may be, but loneliness creeps up and sinks deep in ivory bones even in the hardiest of people. Despite renewed residency in now current home, he strays. Strays far, far away, still in search of adventure in reckless abandon, brief engagement of petty fights here and there, yet satisfaction, a sense of whole manages to elude him. Some may call it fate for what comes next. ( For him, it's a strange coincidence. )
A child yet something unordinary, peculiar. One who shifts one form after another, never one set species, a ripple that flows through tiny figure into something different- something new. Perhaps, had he not been used to oddities of now long gone Earth, it would bring forth utter terror. Perhaps, had tears not stream down innocent face, starlight tears a woeful galaxy on lashes, staining youthful cheeks, a blind eye would have been turned. Instead, caution rules mind while worry rules heart, tugs at heart strings and he can't leave this kid. No, buried memories of agony and treachery filled childhood rear its ugly head, and catapults straight into a decision: he'll help.
Help them stop sopping up sadness like a mop, even if happiness is temporary. No doubt in the history of those who lived he's among the worst in emotional support. Though, it doesn't deter him. If anything, it eases thorn in heart at the sight of melancholy morph into lively joy and takes leave once brilliant smile appears on shifting child's face. Little did it occur they would trail behind own feet, confusion to strike icy veins and unease to tickle heavy stomach. Reluctant is he to let such a little one to follow after him, no desire in parenting or watching after another living soul, yet they stick by him. A stubborn tick who refuses to release iron grip on unprotected skin, sticky glue that cakes messy hands, glob of bubble gum caught in hair.
Out of good conscious does he accept them in his finite journey, learns they lack a name after a proper introduction, leaving him to name them. . . Child. Surely not his finest moment – naming a child Child – but he's no expert on caring for a precious creation birthed into cruel, tainted world. He's no father or father figure.
Short is their lazy trek across thriving woodlands and peaceful meadowlands. He's quick to note how once altering physique settles onto current species he is: hellhound. Retains stability in new form and it causes a sigh of relief and allows concerns of prying eyes and judgemental hearts to melt away. One less problem to worry over.
Truth be told, Bluelagoon had no intended clan and minutes later they face different meadowlands. Eyes of bitter winter roam over rolling grass and perky wildflowers, slight quiver of charcoal nose and flare of nostrils, long inhalation that leads to a faint whistle. Wind Haven. A clan- pro at that. Different from anti and neutral clans he's lived in. Doubts whisper in ears and flicks them, once, twice, as if to chase away pesky flies buzzing about. Who knows, positive growth to rise above lurking demons may sprout and bloom here. Depends where the seed of new beginning is planted and who waters it.
Lean muscle ripples beneath skin, coils and springs forth as tired limbs bring him closer, closer, closer. Man of golden hair pauses seconds before feet cross scent line, hovers a few inches too close. Then does he lurch forward, slow and careful, before hind legs lower down until massive body rests itself atop green grass. Slight crane of head backwards, lips pull back while husky voice punctures calm air.
Piggyback ride now over after reaching their random destination and is patient as he waits for Child to clamber off. Only when tiny toes touch land does he rise, head tilts back a tad, then turns ever so slightly to the right. Heartbeat of a second passes and words, rough and sullen, escape into the wind. "Bluelagoon and Child, for any nearby. Looking to join."
He's quiet now.