to all the stars that light the road ⋆ joining

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    There was no rhyme or reason to guide her paws to where they now rested; just beyond the border marking the territory of the Sanctuary. The Sanctuary. She nearly rolled her eyes. Was there anywhere that could truly be called a 'sanctuary' on this forsaken place called Agrelos? Saturnine pushed these negative thoughts out, shoulders rolling back as she flexed involuntarily. The serval was nervous, first introductions were important and she was not sure how this one would go. As far as manners were considered she had made sure to stand a few tail-lengths from the actual border and Saturn maintained a pleasantly neutral face. All things considered, she should be off on the right paw.


    However, her impatience was getting to her. She didn't like waiting on others, but what else was she to do? Stroll right in and announce her presence? No, all that would accomplish is a few side eyes and ill remarks. Saturninehaze would reign in her restlessness. There was nothing to gain from rushing in. "Hello?" she spoke, her tone imbued with charm. There had been a rustling in the meadow, but the source of this noise was too far away for her to get a proper look. The sun was high in the sky and the serval lifted a paw to shield her eyes from the brutal rays. This summer would be a hot one. For now, she regressed in to silence, until her greeting was returned.

    TAGS. when she named the group, it felt genuine enough. for at one point in time, that's exactly what it felt like. a sanctuary, a middle ground, peaceful and quiet where the living and the dead are settled together, safe and cozy. even now, with war on the rise and conflict climbing the road toward tension, these lulling meadows and rainfed lakes bumble serenity, the lands homely. even now as blood splatters the fae touched grasslands, screams tear wild and snarling free from lips, teeth snapping into the thick of neck, the sanctuary remains just as; homely. and it's a home the woman will defend to ends of earth, paranoia lurking within back of mind, passive aggressiveness lodged within actions.


    and of course she falls into passive aggressive ways bent black and blue with lullaby smiles and wind chime laughs, of course she does. this is chicagocrimes, the embittered dead girl full with warmongering mind. this is the dead girl who has seen her world turn on its head, where the lands split into two, no three, no four pieces, and boiling deserts turned wintry tundras and forests gave into meadows. this is the dead girl, death standing, standing still, as the world shifts and changes and her body shifts and changes but she, at her core, stays the same, forever evergreen. so of course she is passive aggressive, smiling grimm brother smiles and spitting sickly sweet poison—


    "hello?"


    so calls a stranger. chicagocrimes flicks up her ears, muscles stiffening some in a throng of shock, alarm. for first her thoughts rally to the exiles. all should know that as of late they've fallen out of favor with said clan, a rumble of anger taking to roots of this place at the loss of fallengrace's children. or val, secured within its lands, being healed by it's own commander. but that's not barghest speaking now, the voice lighter, lacking his tone and fitted instead with peppered charm. chicagocrimes pushes past, nose wrinkling but no wind takes to the air this afternoon, the summer day hot and seeping into fur ambered, and so forth chicagocrimes moves, left in the unknown until she comes to stand before the other; and thankfully, no known clan scent clings and whispers upon pelt. "hey, this is th' sanctuary. ya need somethin'?" the woman lulls on tongue, eyes of lavender glancing over the other in thought, skimming her posture for the slightest hints of aggressiveness.