Posts by amita.

[fancypost borderwidth=0][justify][size=8]Amita followed after the patrol's leader, enjoying the fresh air that she received upon exiting the sewers - Breathing deeply, the tigress would catch onto the scent of the male deer a good time before it came into sight. Though she wasn't expecting it to be so close, it was, and she wouldn't complain about that. Whiskers twitching slightly, the ivory queen would examine the group carefully, wondering if anyone else had caught sight of it ( well, obviously they would have - nobody there was blind, it was more of her checking to see if anyone was going after it ) and just then her stomach growled, reminding her of the hunger that plagued her. The queen was always hungry, it seemed.

Not just for food either, there was an emotional component of starvation that plagued her.

This, this however was physical hunger. It had been awhile since she had eaten. Larger animals such as she could usually go a good amount of time without eating, granted, a few days easily. But she was still growing, and in some aspects it could even be said that she was pushing the limits somewhat. That was all irrelevant currently, though, as in the moment she really couldn't give a shit about the dangerous game she was playing, nor the aspect of emotional thirst she had within her. In fact, she wasn't thinking at all.

Give me patience.

Flash.

No luck there. Instinct won this time, and the queen shot out, moving stealthily at first though soon breaking into a sprint. Though she didn't run as fast as she was capable of, a slight limp still to her stride due to her tangle with glass days before, she was quick. Quick enough to catch the fleeting male, her claws latching into the frightened breast's haunches. And then her teeth, grasping a hoofed leg which had attempted to kick her, and sinking in deep - So deep, she could have sworn she heard something crack. Was it her teeth or the deer's bone? In the moment she wasn't sure.

Maybe it was all in her head.

But soon enough, the stag stopped moving, slowing to labored steps before collapsing, still breathing, but well on his way out the door.

Give me satisfaction.

Flash.

And though she felt none, she looked down at her kill with a smile.

[fancypost borderwidth=0][justify][size=8]Ikki. Glasses wearing serval. Somebody who she, on some level, had grown to feel somewhat attached to. At least, she saw him around quite a bit - Him and Northyface were probably the two creatures who she bumped into most often, and thus, easily, the two who she had grown most fond of. To herself, she wondered somewhat inappropriately, whether or not she would feel sad if they died as Peter had. The childlike tom's premature demise had been a surprise, granted, but nothing truly painful.

Shaking these thoughts off, she would offer the splotch covered male a smile. "Great," she said to him simply, at a loss for words other than that ( but were they truly needed anyway ). Scanning the area for others who might take her up on her offer and finding none, she would nod to her companion, saying, "Looks like it's just us."

And then she was, well, gone, slipping quickly through the exit of the Havoc's underground home and out into the 'real world.' Like she always did, she would take a deep breath, momentarily lounging in the luxury that was fresh air before turning around, expecting to see Ikki coming out behind her. "How's the day treating you?"

[fancypost borderwidth=0][justify][size=8]It had been a good amount of time since the female had joined the group, hadn't it? Half a moon, maybe more? Time flew when you were having fun, she supposed, though it was hard to label what she had experienced there so far as that. It was, ultimately, not fun. Just work. Just life, and if you asked her, her life was hard, laborious in the worst possible way. Just as she had lived in the Dominion, the youthful feline was struggling to live in a way that wouldn't make her seem like the shell she felt she was. And she did feel like a shell, too, as it felt like she were missing just about every single thing that made others alive - A soul, maybe. Day to day life for her was a constant game of pretend, and oh, she wished for some humanity.

But still, time flew, whether or not 'fun' was the correct term to use in such a situation. Life there had been worthwhile. And perhaps, on some level, she did bear some humanity - Even just a sliver. For she had developed a undeniable amount of attachment for life in the Havoc, and something which closely resembled respect for those she lived with. Indeed, the tigress liked them; they made her into a better person, even if that was no fun for her, pretending to be somebody with a soul was better than just merely existing without one. That was what she had done for the first eleven months of her life, and * that had been boring. Hard to bear. This was more exciting, even if tedious. This was something that resembled life.

That was her, a quality, top-notch imitation of the real thing. The highest priced toy; Akin to something that would, once upon a time, be fought for tooth and nail in department stores. The best product there ever was and she owed it all to them. And that isn't sarcasm either, because the life she was living now was the best she could ask for given her circumstances. She was surrounded by the faces of her creators, who had given her a plastic personality and a heart of spray painted gold. Permanently did they flash her cameras as she begged, Give me loyalty!, Give me aptitude!, and most of all, Give me a will to live! Was it worth it, though? Really truly, at the end of the day, could she say she was glad to get there? The answer was nonexistent, the answer didn't matter, because she didn't give a damn. Not about where she was, not about where she was going, not about who had created her, not about why.

Take me apart. Make me into anything. But just love me.

Tired was a good way to describe her. Absolutely fed up was even better. *ing over it was spot on. The feline was Pinocchio, made of wood, who wanted to be a real boy; The tigress was the tin man who wanted a heart. The queen was a product who wanted to be alive. All she wanted was a conscious, the capability to love, and the capability to feel. To feel anything, really, but the desire to blend in. Even the death of Peter hadn't managed to awaken any feeling inside of her. Just vacancy. There was room for everyone, everything, but nobody wanted to move in. Nothing ever could, she supposed - the doors were shut tight, and that was that. It was a tragedy, really. The only tragedy she was capable of recognizing.

Her life was all about her, in every way possible. The only person she loved was herself, and even then, she hated her. That was the life she had lived since birth - Her birth mom was a distant memory, unimportant. Her adopted parent, who's family name she bore, was even more so irrelevant. Those she lived with now managed to make an impression, true, but it wasn't love. It only looked like love. Nor did they love her, and it was no wonder, how could they when she was just a lifelike doll? Maybe they knew she was really made of plastic, maybe her acting wasn't as good as she thought it was. Knew it was. Of course it was.

Click, boom.

Down Amita fell, seeing only black as she collapsed at the edge of the territory, a car pulling away in a swift and panicked motion - How could they not run? They had just seen an 'escaped tiger' and had shot at her. Of course they had. What else could you expect them to do, really? The tigress was gone from the moment the bullet connected with her face. Not gone as in dead, no. Unconscious. Certainly bleeding all over the place. But through some miracle, not dead. Teeth littered the pavement around her, her teeth; Her bone, her entire lower jaw blown clear across the city. Birds pecked at the broken pieces of her, cleaning up the mess that had been made. Damn scavengers.

And she, she had gone somewhere far away.

[hr][justify][size=8]
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. It was bloodclan, in a time when she was alive but not yet born - In a period where she actually had a soul to keep, even if a bit of a shifty one, even if the soul of a game player, even if the soul of a woman who made everyone's heart her pinata for her own agenda, a soul had existed. A soul which was capable of loving, filled with love; and not only that, but pain. A soul which had suffered, a soul which had been disturbed, traumatized even. A soul that had been a mother. A lover. A sister. A role model. A soul which lived inside of a real person, with a real personality, a person who wasn't just a product. Well, not completely.

They say your life flashed before your eyes before you died, and Amita could only assume that this is what she were experiencing currently - Back when she were really alive. Back when she actually could be described as human on at least on some level. A dangerous beginning filled with shifty, no-good antics of children, to a horrible lurch into true reality that was a horrific brutalization in a cave. Drama of lesbian love and adopted sons and daughters. Promotions and pride. Dying from the AIDs virus. Being lost in limbo. The ex-leader, the ex-leader, and the leader, the key components to her salacious love. . . Well, not a triangle. A bit more complex than that, really. Her fall from grace. Her fleeing the place she had claimed to love. Somewhere in this mix was the formerly unknown inspiration for what had happened to Amita presently, poetic in a way. Her arrival in the peaceful tribe. Her promotion, next in line to take the thrown. The brutal revenge of her attacker. Death. Return. Reunited with the so called love of her life. His death. Her death. End scene.

What a * she had been, what a no good rotten * who somehow wasn't at the same time. It was a paradox, really. Amita couldn't help but find some of her former self's actions admirable - Her on point maternal instincts as she reared child after child that wasn't hers. Sweet, she supposed, at least that's what product Amita would have thought to say. Really, there was nothing she found moving about this; nor abhorrent, really. It was just interesting to see who she had been, and what she had done, and in a way it was reassuring to know that she had been a real person, at least once upon a time. Before she was actually born, sure. But still, that was something. So she had lived, and she had had a soul, and maybe it was okay that she was going to die again.

Maybe she was paying for her sins, anyway, as somebody who had once felt a bit too much. Too much in love, too much in lust, too much in pain, too much drained, too much ambitious. Maybe this was retribution for the chaos she caused - Just a shell. Maybe this was the break that she deserved - No feeling, not for awhile. Maybe in the next life. But Amita didn't believe in all this bull* she was thinking, there was no greater power, there was no such thing as karma. This was just how she was. Flawed by design, or perhaps privileged.

Maybe feelings just got in the way. Who knew, who cared, she was dying anyway.

Give me a *ing break.

Flash.

[hr][justify][size=8]
But of course, she was never supposed to die. And her eyes opened after - well, frankly, who knew how long she had spent unconscious, it could have been a minute, it could have been an hour - let's just say 'an undisclosed amount of time' and she would witness the winged creatures tearing into her skin. A feast for them, and she laughed, only because she couldn't really do much else verbally.

Telepathically however, she would proclaim in a way that made her feel exposed, she would 'speak' in the voice she thought in. Her monotone, callous, way.

"Birds ate my face."

[fancypost borderwidth=0][justify][size=8]"It seems we do," the tigress acknowledged with a twitch of her whiskers, taking in the vixen's haughty expression carefully. The russet hued creature was interesting, to say the least. "How are you liking it here so far?"

[fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 300px;][justify][size=7pt]Currently ( and permanently ) residing in the Havoc, Amita is a tiger not from there originally and is the biological daughter of Genevieve, though she was adopted into the Paramour family. She has something of a dark triad personality, though she absolutely loathes this about her and has a deep desire to develop of a conscious. Her life and personality were inspired by several sources of fictionalized media as well as bits of reality, though most predominately the novel Invisible Monsters. She recently lost her jaw in an accident and relies solely on telepathic communication. She is bisexual and gray/aromantic - She's still figuring out, but in any case, love plots won't come in a hurry. Also she is the reincarnate of Amour, a former ToBE deputy and Bloodclan third tier, though she has only just discovered this and doesn't relate to or identify with her former self.

Open for --
Friends ( friendship won't come easy to her though uwu )
Acquaintances
Casual interaction
Enemies/Rivals
Apprentice
One-sided crushes
Flings

Closed for --
Romance
Litters
Adoption
Serious injury/Maiming
Death
Sexual assault

[fancypost borderwidth=0][justify][size=8]This was her first time getting away from the sewers which she lived since her latest tragedy. A gaping hole was in place where her lower jaw used to be, scar tissue gnarled and leathery in texture; her throat was dry due to the constant exposure to the air. That was the worst part. Though, she would likely change her tune after she saw her reflection - Indeed, since the weeks following her shooting she had not seen herself yet. Not even a glimpse. If she truly wanted to, she could seek out a mirror in the ravaged twoleg city which the Havoc lived in, but Christ, of course she didn't truly want to see how monstrous she looked.

Before, the white tigress had been beautiful. Now? Not so much. It was a miracle she were alive, though she would use that term quite loosely. Anyway, it had been several weeks since her near fatal injury had been sustained, and she was just finally getting the break she so desperately thought she deserved. Out of the sewers. Into the fresh air. She was on a border patrol, though this time it was not to appear functional and normal, not to blend in, not to seem like a hard-working somebody, but instead to get away from the camp which she had been confined to.

The border shared with the Skulls was the one which the queen roamed near presently. A neutral group who she had no qualms with at all - Though, it was hard to get her really passionate about anything. Put simply, all her likes and dislikes were just fabricated. Fake. A product, just like her.

[fancypost borderwidth=0][justify][size=8]Isolation couldn't last for long, she supposed.

Cocking her head in the direction of the stranger she would take a moment to nod in greeting. Telepathy was her sole form of communication, a blessing that she had only found her possessed at the scene of the crime. "I'm Amita," she wished her face wasn't just a gaping hole, though. That would be nice. It would be nice to just disappear completely. It would be nice to have a soul, too, but that was something else entirely. "I'm from the Havoc, just patrolling the border."

[fancypost borderwidth=0][justify][size=8]Amita would have smiled with satisfaction then, you know, if she had any lips. "Birds," she answered with a laugh, the only audible sound she could really make that was coherent. In any case, she was satisfied to be able to give her answer, as she still remembered waking up after being shot at and seeing the pecking scavengers, dining on the pieces of bone that had been blown away from her pleasant expression.

"Birds ate my face."

The best part was, she wasn't even joking. If they had the capability, you know cats and other creatures, to perform surgery and reattach her jaw they wouldn't be able to. The birds had swept in and eaten her; Even the parts which should have been inedible had been swallowed up by the pests. It was rather ironic, she supposed, the hunted devouring a powerful tiger. Granted, ultimately, nobody could have done anything with the bits and pieces of her. Forever mutilated was she left.

"Before that," she sent telepathically, supposing she should tell her the rest of the story as to avoid appearing to be a lunatic. Though she wouldn't care if that were how she were perceived, the character she had built up was anything but. That was not her role; Her role was not that of a misunderstood disabled girl. No, she was Amita Paramour - Hardworking. Sociable. Smart. Caring. Compassionate. Absolutely and utterly constructed, fake in every way, and she owed it all to the Havoc. They made her into something she wasn't, but they still couldn't give her a soul. "- Before that humans shot me."

[fancypost borderwidth=0][justify][size=8]"Your guess is as good as mine," she would respond with a shrug, looking towards the sky briefly as she reflected on the memory. Her answer had been a lie, certainly, as she knew very well why they had done what they did, but honesty wasn't always the correct policy. And in a moment, it became apparent to her that she didn't particularly enjoy the topic of discussion. Though she enjoyed next to nothing. . . "Anyway, how are things in the Skulls?"

[fancypost borderwidth=0][justify][size=8]Amita had focused almost entirely on the birds, watching the feathered creatures destroy her broken pieces even further. At least she were contributing something now, at least her life could really mean something now; If when she got to God's gates and was asked why a soulless beast like her deserved a place in the sky, she would answer with, "I gave half my face to feed a family of birds." It was hard not to see the humor in the situation, though if she were capable of feeling such a thing she might have been going into shock currently which might explain such a thing.

Don't get her started on the pain. Blinding pain. Pain worse than she could describe. But at least the birds were being fed. At least her beautiful face was gone, but gone for a cause. She checked to see if she still had a tongue, and she did, the muscle lolling about as she struggled to move her head. At Ivylight's appearance, she played a bit with it, trying to see if she could talk to her, with the fact that she had spoken telepathically previously not yet connecting. Hell, she hadn't even known that she had such a power.

"Iwidntpenonit," she tried to assure, knowing just how distorted these 'words' were.

The queen stilled though, knowing that moving wouldn't do her any good, not that she could move much anyway due to the pain. Indeed, she was in danger for blacking out with ever slight tilt of her head. At the same time, all she wanted to do was scream and thrash because it hurt too bad to just sit there and take it. But still, she did, as the medic began to layer the plants upon her features.

"This is so embarrassing, I'm bleeding all over the place."

And you could say that by the time she had the sense to 'speak' via thought that she was more than a little out of it.

[fancypost borderwidth=0][justify][size=8]They were on neutral terms. The Havoc had only a handful of established alliances. Honestly, though, Amita didn't see the harm in exchange vague news of the groups - They had already gotten pretty intimate in the discussion of what happened with her face. Oh, such a tragedy it had been. "We're well too," her silent response came, and for a moment she wondered what the phrase would have sounded like coming from her voice. Her voice had been capable of tone which made her character so much better; Now those she talked with were stuck listening to her thought-speak voice. Bored. Vacant. Just like she was.

A moment of silence passed, and she would have cleared her throat if she could have - Though that was impossible now, her throat dried from constant exposure and incapable of such a task. "I have to say, I wasn't expecting to run into anyone today."

[fancypost borderwidth=0][justify][size=8]The disfigured tigress would find herself joining Vinnie, lingering a bit behind him as she studied the wolf at the border -- Vaguely did she recognize her presently, as she had been birthed in the Dominion, but more alarmingly did the tigress recognize her as a key player in her former self's life. Though, Amita didn't identify with who she used to be, not in the slightest; She barely 'identified' as herself. None of this mattered, ultimately, and the ivory, jaw-less wildcat would tilt her head, curiously wondering what Breakdance's business was.

[fancypost borderwidth=0][justify][size=8]Missing half a face, lacking a soul, Amita was not in any way complete. At least before the accident she was physically whole, having indeed had the whole package; all four legs, ears, a functioning mouth. Those had been the days. It was hard not for the queen to be a bit bitter about what had had happened to her, and in fact this bitterness might have been the first thing she felt, genuinely and truly. Still no conscious, though, still no capability of empathy - If she could have chosen what to feel in the aftermath of it all, she would have chosen to be given something that gave her some humanity. Just not this hatred that she felt towards what had happened to her, not just this dark nihilism that grew within her.

Jump to one of the tigress' first walks after her recovery, the feline winding her way throughout the city streets and passing an alleyway; a week or so prior, she had stepped in a pile of broken glass and cut her paw up pretty good. And she had thought that had been pain. It was almost funny. So for old time's sake, reminiscing of what it used to be like when she had been beautiful and still had a face, she brought herself through the side street; Indeed, it was still littered with stray trash as it had been before. If she looked closely enough at an old broken bottle, she thought she could see traces of her blood, though fallen rain had washed much of that away.

Eventually, she got a bit nosy and began digging through a box settled by an overflowing dumpster. Old twoleg artifacts were settled inside, mostly water damaged books and moldy children's toys, but eventually something caught her eye. It was a layered accessory, fabric upon fabric upon fabric, and it was black. It was the perfect thing to hide herself away from the world - Ultimately, she would be doing them a favor. Her, with half a face, an exposed throat and forever drooling. She was no prize, and would spare others from having to look at her.

Adjusting the veil upon her head, she would blink through the silk as she saw the world in a new, tinted, way.

[fancypost borderwidth=0][justify][size=8]"This is my first time out," she would explain briefly, blinking towards the feline thoughtfully. Remilia had a point, she supposed, bumping into others at the borders was hardly something completely unexpected in nature. "- My first time out since my incident, that is. I suppose I was enjoying my walk, away from the medics of my clan, that I briefly forgot of the existence of others."

[fancypost borderwidth=0][justify][size=8]Next to arrive was Amita, the veil donning tigress taking a careful seat besides Ikki and looking up towards Vinnie. Though nobody could really see it through the silk fabric that dangled carefully before what was left of her face, her eyes were narrowed with interest as she looked to the leader, the queen quietly wondering what topics would end up being discussed presently.

[fancypost borderwidth=0][justify][size=8]At Runeterra's arrival, the queen would briskly run her paw across the silk, and the jagged remains of her face, to ensure everything was properly covered and then nod in greeting. Alone time could only last for so long, she supposed, and ultimately 'alone time' wasn't what she desired - Though she didn't long for much other than humanity, the orchestrated persona of Amita which she played was a social enough creature, somebody who liked idle conversation and such. Disfiguring accidents could cause a shift in personality, that was normal, but she thought it best to get back onto the metaphorical horse as soon as possible.

At the question she would pause.

Give me patience.

Flash.

"I just came across it while going through this stuff," the queen explained via telepathy as her tongue flopped uselessly in the gaping hole that was left of her mouth. Though, thankfully, now hidden away behind her veil. "I figured it would go well with my gross disfigurement."

Give me humor.

Flash.

And so she laughed, as if it were a joke.

[fancypost borderwidth=0][justify][size=8][ ahhh that muse ;w; mine is sort of dying.
and retro to the whole jaw getting shot off thing woo ]

"A rough night?" The tigress would inquire, a frown etching it's way onto her expression carefully as she looked to the other citizen. Amita wished she could say that she knew the definition of the term; that she could relate to him on some level, empathize with his troubles. Empathy was a lost art in her mind, never to be mastered as far as she knew, missing in action since her birth. Though that wasn't to say she didn't care - Though not in the traditional way, she was interested, and perhaps even disappointed to know that the servaline tom was going through a hard time. But being interested in somebody's troubles, and disappointed in them, was only - at best - a pale imitation of empathy. "What made it so?"

[fancypost borderwidth=0][justify][size=8][ I'm sorry that I took so long getting this up. ;3; I didn't actually see your post until now. But, here you go! (: Sorry it's kind of shitty, my muse crashed kind of abruptly. ]

Amita was just rousing, having had a rough couple of nights in terms of the quality of her sleep. When the pain of the gaping hole in her face didn't rouse her, dreams did - Troubling images, taunting her and what she didn't have. No, not taunting her poor blown off jaw, but her and what she didn't have. Which was, well, quite a bit when it came down to it. In any case, this night was no exception, and the queen was currently slipping out of the sewers and into the moonlit city. The tigress settled on the pavement and sighed, gazing up at the moon to watch as time passed by. Her veil had been left inside, as she took it off when sleeping; The cool air felt nice on the mess of scar tissue that was her face.

[fancypost borderwidth=0][justify][size=8]Love me, love me, love me, I'll be anybody you want me to be.

It was funny that the female mention that, actually. The concept of love was the most foreign concept to the queen, in that she was truly incapable of loving anyone. Yet she wanted everyone to love her, or at least the idea of her which she projected in her monotonous day-to-day activity. Go figure. "Thanks," she said to her silently - This would be the point in conversation where she would smile if she had the means to. Most of her smiles, her real smiles, before her jaw had been blown off, had really been just teeth; no real meaning behind them. This was true of all her actions.

Jump to her changing the subject, because who wanted to bask in the sympathy of a near stranger when you could move the hell on? "What are you up to?"

[fancypost borderwidth=0][justify][size=8]"Are you alright there, Ikki?"

Amita would ask as she approached the servaline male who was currently holding a paw to his head. Through the black satin of her veil did she examine him, pale blue eyes narrowed as she listed off the possibilities for what could be wrong in her head. Naturally, she assumed it was probably a headache; from what, she didn't know. And although she liked to think of herself as quite efficient, she never considered that the tom might have remembered something. Having developed an almost nihilistic way of thinking, in her experience what was gone usually stayed gone.