Posts by Morrissey

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 345px][justify][size=7pt][font=georgia]"I don't know what you see going this way -" he motioned to the right, "- but being the unknown will certainly make it interesting, I'm sure." As soon as Moz was done talking he wondered if he told too much; since Arcade was aware now that he had no idea what this may lead to, he may decide to back out. Or maybe he was just overthinking? Knitting his brows and chewing on his cheek, he waited to see if the other male had anything to say on the matter.

Morrissey didn't look back at him, though, just ahead. He didn't want him to see the expression on his face and think he was suddenly fuming when he wasn't. It was more of a stern, yet anxious look, the BlizzardClanner flicking the tip of his tail. "You up for it, Clark?"

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 345px][justify][size=7pt][font=georgia]"I'm actually doing just fine - my eyes haven't leaked or shed a single tear." Morrissey mewed a little too coolly, obviously fighting back a slight scowl. All this yelling wasn't too enjoyable, to say the least, especially if you weren't part of the category of people the speech was directed too. Moz cared nothing about the others death - he never knew her nor seen her before, just heard of her. It just didn't tug at his heartstrings because he never even laid eyes on Clockwork; and even then he wouldn't be affected really. It was just how he was.

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 345px][justify][size=7pt][font=georgia]moz? :^))

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 345px][justify][size=7pt][font=georgia]"Who the hell are you?" The male questioned with a fake sound of suspense, summoning a squint before his short-lived façade rubbed off. Of course he knew Arcade, but there was no fun in not pretending he didn't. "I'm Morrissey, and I hate living!" It was a true statement, but the enthusiasm he had behind it made it seem lighter than what it was. He was something pleasant.

It definitely seemed today was one of Moz's ruder, grumpier days. It was like he was almost a child, having their off days and on days, days when they behaved good or badly. Except this wasn't a youngster but an adult who just, truthfully, didn't enjoy being an adult or being around at all. Oh well.

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 345px][justify][size=7pt][font=georgia]Morrissey had been lurking around the borders when he heard that wretched voice he'd heard many times as a kid. It had more of the English, British sound to it than his, and was certainly a bit on the louder side but wasn't obnoxious or anything. Maybe it wasn't that bad, as that voice belonged to his only and older sister and you couldn't necessarily hate a sibling, but she did contribute to the reasons why he wasn't dwelling back where he was at as a youth. She made him a traveller and wanderer, to say the least.

"Steven? Oh, it's you, Steven Patrick!" The tom literally cringed and lost his balance just hearing her call him by his first name that he'd dropped ages ago because he found it absolutely terrible. Finally, he'd raise his head to face his sibling. She looked somewhat like him - she was a bit bigger and not thin and lanky like him, simply a more plump femme instead however she was still very beautiful, nor did she have the hair or glasses. But, her pelt had the same ebony shade as his and the same cheeks and face structure. You could tell they were somehow related, one way or another.

"I go by Morrissey now, as I've told you before, dearest Jacqueline." he reminded in a murmur. It was their last name, but she still found it odd how he wanted to go by the family name. But she respected his wishes when she could remember them. "Yes! Uhm, right, Mozza." Damn, he was cringing again at the nickname she'd used many times before, too.

At her side though was another figure, though, and they were enough to brighten him up a bit. It was one of his nephews, whom he hadn't seen since he left home and he was still a very small, young boy. Just like Morrissey, his nephew - named merely Sam - had that lean frame and facial structure, and anatomy wise, resembled his uncle perfectly. All that was different was the pelt, a dark brown with the markings of a tabby. "Mm, how have you been, Sam?" he asked, quirking a brow.

The BlizzardClanner had always loved his nephew greatly, as he was like him at that age. Clumsy and shy, misunderstood and just upset at the world in general. They had a special bond, really. His sister Jacqueline was quite different though - she was chatty, prying, forgetful, and too nice for Moz to enjoy her company for long amounts of time. Which was honestly a shame, seeing as she found his company all too wonderful. "I'm doing good, Uncle Morrissey. It's nice to be visiting you." Sam answered, giving a slight shuffle of his paws.

He couldn't help but wonder how exactly they were visiting him; he never told them he'd settled down in a clan. But oh well. Hopefully no other clanners would show up, as this was downright embarrassing to the tom.

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 345px][justify][size=7pt][font=georgia]Hm, a house fair? That was certainly a new one - Morrissey didn't think he knew what that was. But it did strike his interest. "Thanks for the invite. I'm sure someone capable of officially accepting it will be here shortly."

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 345px][justify][size=7pt][font=georgia]Man, now he really wanted to drop dead then and there after Arcade appeared. Out of all sorts of people, it just had to be him. Letting out a cough and clearing his throat, he was about to introduce his... visitors, until one of them butted in and decided to do so instead - that said person being his sister. "Hi there! Do you know my brother Mozza? I'm Jaqueline, and this is my son, Sam. Oh, it's so nice to see Morrissey having friends." Behind her was Moz, looking like he was sick to his stomach and about to gag. That or kneel over and croak. Either way, he exaggerated it a bit just for Arcade.

"Yes, what she said," the BlizzardClanner frowned, trying to look like he was pleasantly surprised by their appearances (or atleast, his siblings) but wasn't doing too good, his brows knitting and him furiously chomping away at his cheek. Why couldn't it had just been his nephew or something and no one else? Why did Arcade have to come and spectate the embarrassing scene? Argh.

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 345px][justify][size=7pt][font=georgia]/ sorry for late reply!! I've been out of town

Morrissey worked his mouth into a faint smile, "Actually, I did think that. But alright." And so, back to walking they were, it seemed. Moz took long strides and wondered if Arcade's injuries would prevent him from walking too fast like he was. What had happened to him, anyways? Had he ever really said? Hm. It was enough to keep Morrissey quiet, the male zoning out almost and not really paying attention to what his companion was doing behind him, or even if he'd picked up the pace and gotten beside or ahead of him.

The squawk of a bird however made him snap out of it, though he didn't look startled. Casting a few slow glances around, he came to a halt just to examine their surroundings. "How would you describe this biome?" It was like a forest, however everything was moist and damp and covered in moss, unlike a rainforest. Sort of reminded him of times back in Greater Manchester, everything covered in drizzle and sometimes fog as the sun rarely revealed itself. "I think I see a cave over there."

/ feel free to say whatever you want about the place they are at or things around them, etc. :^))

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 345px][justify][size=7pt][font=georgia]could ya redo Moz? :^))

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 345px][justify][size=7pt]"Mm, I'd say maybe someone who had a toll to settle or someone who had too much time on their hands," the tom chimed in, his tone as collected as he himself was. Morrissey wasn't too fazed on the outside, however this was enough to get his blood boiling. The very idea of death was enough to do that though, not just murder. Moz just hid it because, well, what did displaying his upset at it do? Nothing.

This only fueled his current mix-up of emotions; he was the embodiment of angst most of the time, but he couldn't help but feel he was the embodiment of hypocrisy and self-misunderstanding too. He was so complicated, even he had trouble believing his own thoughts. For now Morrissey bit his own lip, saying nothing more as he prowled around the area for scents or fur. Surely there was a struggle?

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 345px][justify][size=7pt][font=georgia]Morrissey had his hard days, too, just like anybody else. Usually those days were late at night, when the roaring thoughts that crashed and thundered around in his head kept him up. They gnawed away at him; how humanity was disgusting and pitiful and how he could never do anything about it but worry viciously about its state, or on more personal things, like how he just hated himself in general. He hated how he got an urge to get away from any of the few people he could get to love him, he hated how he was afraid of losing anyone he held dear, he hated how he just pretended the things he didn't like or made him suffer just didn't exist. He hated how he thought just blocking everything out that caused him pain actually disposed of it.

Morrissey didn't remember the last time he'd truly cried. Few people were enough to mean the amount to him to do that. As a kid, he didn't know anyone. He was afraid to know anyone. So no one was there to make him shed a single tear, save his fathers disciplinary actions. But, in the darkness that was his memories, the absences and gaps in his life and childhood, in him in general, there had been a new appearance of light when he first came to BlizzardClan; that light being Arcade Gannon.

Arcade wasn't... different, but he wasn't viewed the same way as Moz viewed others. He intrigued him, he interested him, and he didn't judge him. Arcade didn't ever stop and say, "Hey, you said you wanted to die... You said you hate living... Why? I want to help you." He never questioned or prodded him. Instead, he let him be, well, him. Arcade didn't try to intervene and that's why Morrissey liked him so much. Everyone else, in his opinion, tried too hard to care in this world when they truly didn't - it was all fake. But, Arcade wasn't that way.

At this point, Morrissey had a new person to care about. A new person to be afraid of losing too. But it was still a new person he thought about when he saw what they were doing, observed what their issues were or how they were acting. So when the tom saw the other BlizzardClanner, he didn't poke. He didn't pry. He just did what first made Arcade so special to him.

"Hey Arcade." No inquiries. Moz was on his paws, taking long strides towards the other male. At his side he would come to a halt, sitting down beside him with the only other movements being the casual flick of his tail. "I care. But I don't want you to carry the weight of my worry." That was his job - being the hypocrite, the over-analyzer, the one who was still confused on who he was or how he felt.

And quite honestly, he hated it.

/ its late so sorry if its just cluttered and confusing :^(

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 345px][justify][size=7pt][font=georgia]"Let it be known: hangovers only exist to inform you not to do what you did again." Morrissey lightly scolded them with a tsk, tsk, tsk, shaking his head side to side with his words. For a brief moment he shot Arcade a glare, mouthing "you're a fucking idiot" to him as he tried his best to muster a disappointed look. Alas, he couldn't summon one. Darn.

Knitting his brows, he flicked his ears with a slight sense of irritation. Gosh, he couldn't help but find this whole incident a bit moronic but then again, he'd had hangovers before too. Maybe he could them out? "Anyone want a wet compress? If you have a migraine, that is. If not I can just fetch some water for you."

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 345px][justify][size=7pt][font=georgia]"Mm, maybe. It almost seems like a cloud forest, but its missing a few elements," Morrissey observed, biting his lip as his striking blue eyes scanned around him, never coming to a halt and always on the movie. "But it also seems boreal-like, too." Man, this got him to thinking, what was it like for Lewis and Clark? How did they know if names for biomes for this existed or not? Maybe they could name this biome... "Let's call it the Mozcade biome."

The tom shrugged at his companions question regarding the cave. "I have no idea. But we won't ever know if we don't find out." That and to be honest, he kind of hoped something big and bad was living in there. Maybe that could be his escape plan out of life. Surely if it killed him it wouldn't go for Arcade? The thought of Arcade getting viciously attacked made him vigorously gnaw at his cheek, deciding to eliminate such thoughts. "God, its humid here," Morrissey somewhat snarled, looking up at his hair that was already looking a bit more frizzier and fuller.

/ sorry for the late reply again!! been busy

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 345px][justify][size=7pt][font=georgia]"Morrissey." The tom didn't feel like talking much, so just his name was all he let leave his maw. He had showed up and sat down beside Arcade, though said nothing else as he just watched the scene with an almost zoned out look. He just wasn't himself today.

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 345px][justify][size=7pt][font=georgia]"If there is nothing in it, we could camp out in it or something. A camping and exploring trip, marvelous." Morrissey nonchalantly suggested, motioning all of the cave with a dangling-like paw. At this time an idea was brewing in his head to maybe scare Arcade, but he decided against it instead since he may whip around or attack him or something like that. On another note, the whole camping idea had him looking sort of excited. He hadn't done something of the sort - truly, that is - since he was a kid. He never counted the stays as a loner though, they weren't the real deal to him.

"Besides, I got something to share with you later, and I'd rather share it later on today." He had a intent look to him, like he definitely wouldn't be giving anymore details until he delivered the statement and info completely. And now wasn't the right time for that, he figured. They just gotten into things, why not just enjoy it and ruin it later? "Yes, Moz, you'll ruin this trip just like so many other things. You can't find happiness and no one else can either because you decimate it." God, his head was pounding and his judging conscious had already decided its victim today, that being his ownself. But that wasn't much different from other days, though, was it?

"I just hope there isn't any bats. I'm not all keen on having my blood sucked away unless its a letahl amount and I don't think mere bats can do such, can they?" His visionaries that reflected the ocean's blue color on them were never stuck to something, skipping all over the place within the cave. "Look, there's even some moss to rest upon."

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 345px][justify][size=7pt][font=georgia]"I'm Morrissey," he murmured, flicking the tip of his tail casually as he introduced himself simply. So many new people around and he hadn't been around enough recently to meet them; a shame, really. But maybe he'd pick up the pace.

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 345px][justify][size=7pt][font=georgia]

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 345px][justify][size=7pt][font=georgia]omg thanks for all the votes guys!! congrats to the other winners :^))

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 345px][justify][size=7pt][font=georgia]... because there is a ton of new blizzardclanners he hasn't really met yet! just suggest whatever and i'll see what we can do. :^))

[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 345px][justify][size=7pt][font=georgia]Hidden away. Morrissey wasn't forced to do such. He just did it of his own accord. He didn't know why, but in this odd way, he knew all the reasons why, too. Maybe he could of called this a return if he had actually left, but that wasn't the case. Instead he had just cut himself off from everyone and the BlizzardClan community. Where had he gone? It was a blur for him. For how long? See previous answer.

No one really knew just how unstable Morrissey was. Arcade knew of his fierce and strong gripping depression, but Moz's collected personality only let him see the tip of the iceberg. Isolation did horrible things, it made grown men into mad men. What he had hoped to resolve with time locked away in a deep thinking state had only been amplified. The darkness swallowed him further, whole. But in the middle of the dark, painfully silent night before, a small light was recalled by him yet again. Arcade. This wasn't the first time.

"Why build your mind a stone fortress when he so easily tears it down?" Maybe he should of been mad about that, mad about his inabilities to calm this fever-like feeling festering inside him, to calm these emotions shudderingly vivid. That light was like an ember rising then fluttering down, landing and then starting a vicious fire of eerie desire. The fire took it's toll but it also provided motivation and anxiousness, enough of it to where Arcade was enough for him to finally decide to reappear.

Morrissey had slithered out from whoever he had made himself abide alone, sitting outside the stone hut he called his own nearly a month ago. No one had touched it or the contents inside, much to his liking. There was still some decency in this world, Moz would remind himself upon discovering nothing of his was messed with. "It's a shame you don't contribute to that said decency. You stay unpleasant and vile and live behind a lying façade of kindness. You disgust yourself." The male couldn't help but squeeze his eyes shut, partly from holding back the anger he made his own self feel and also because he hadn't seen the sun at its full brightness in such a long time.

Moz looked pretty rough. Usually he kept himself well groomed and handsome, something anyone who had ever met him knew, but his current form went against that statement. He looked scruffier and skinnier, verging on being considered sickly looking, and his hair had grown out some. It was still short, but now with an extra inch or more in other places. For some reason, his nose was bleeding. Morrissey wasn't sure why it was, but the sight of crimson trinkling down provided a strange, pleasing feeling, almost like relief. So he didn't wipe it, just let it bleed freely. "What's wrong with you?"

"I'm looking for the people I once knew, I'm looking for Arcade and the others. Where are you all at?" He spoke his thoughts aloud, slowly closing the striking blue visionaries located behind the lenses of his spectacles to quietly ponder. "Please stumble across me." His last set of words was a soft whisper as he tilted his head downwards.