Posts by ORGANFILLING.

[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 450px; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;]//OH MY GOD ITS MARCUS
IM GOING TO SCREAM ,, HELLO,,

Breadstick had noticed an owl flying about, and he had to admit he had thought of Marcus. But she was much nicer it seemed, ten times nicer. And it seemed, this is the exact reason why he thought of Marcus. Except the birdy seemed to have been scarred up. Was his face like that before? Eh, he didn't remember but either way it kind of felt amusing. The other would not recognize him, although as he approached over he already felt his agitation and anger coming back. God, this guy... He didn't even have to do anything and he pissed him off. "Um, hi there, Marcus Randell." He'd say, before clearing his throat.

"Here, have a snickers - you're not you when you're hungry." At this, he conjured a snickers and tried to literally hit him in the face with it. He could sort of understand the other was wanting his daughter, but perhaps he should handle this situation calmer. He had been able to recover his children most of the time with a calm and collected attitude, sometimes coming over and demanding something didn't work. Actually, it never worked unless someone had a plan. For example, when Blizzardclan captured Silentkit he took someone here and planned to kill them if they didn't give him back his son. But uh, perhaps that isn't what he was supposed to do? "And uh, calm down please. Because if you don't then um... You won't see your daughter, like, ever?" He'd say with a small tilt of his head. "And that fire - stop that right fucking now, you're acting like a child throwing a fit rather then a father." His voice was a little sterner as he said this, trying to obsessively splash the owl with freezing cold water he created with elemental powers to the point he might have to fly.

[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 450px; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;]He hadn't been able to understand why Dystopia and Leonidas thought he was a traitor. Not at all. Cyrus, perhaps he felt more personally betrayed. He only hoped that was why he was angry, and he wasn't just leaping onto the bandwagon of believing he was an enemy because... He had left there as peacefully as possible, not a single word given, hadn't even tried to hurt anyone unless he felt afraid. Yeah, he didn't get why they thought he betrayed the clan. Personally, feeling personally hurt by him not even saying a word to them he could understand. It was the same sort of hurt he felt whenever he discovered Gardenpaw had been in Shadowclan, he had been lied to and deceived, told he was "visiting a friend." Some friend, they blinded him. He supposed it was the same case here. Gardenpaw hadn't ever tortured an Exiler, he had lived peacefully.

The only difference is he was able to keep his mouth shut, because he actually cared about his roguemates and comrades. Unlike Leonidas and Dystopia, he wasn't going to run around screaming out someone's name because they had "betrayed the clan." In fact, it was one of the many reasons he left. He had been forced to watch Littlekit tortured, forced to watch his daughter tortured because 'she left the clan and betrayed it.' He had prepared to intervene, but he didn't. He just sat there and watched the child he had sworn to protect, to treat better then the other's. The Exiles were delusional, the way they saw someone as a traitor was just disgusting and unpleasant if he was honest. They didn't realize how much it had been hurting him to live there, how much it had just destroyed his life and sanity. They didn't realize if he stayed there he'd hurt them, and then he'd actually be a traitor. They couldn't accept someone who only wanted to be happy, they wanted to corrupt any of that. And even when he had been here, what had they done? They smashed him down, they tore apart anything he put together. Specifically, he thought of Leonidas. He had hurt him. The other had enjoyed it, the other was a sadistic scum of the earth. He was just like his father, just like Bill, just like Barron, just like Feliks. He was like all the people he either hated or was afraid of.

He only hoped Cyrus never ended up doing something as messed up as what Cyrus's father did to his mother. He was the product of something horrible, just thinking about it made him angry. He hoped one day, maybe those he still wanted to love him would trust him. He hoped all of his grandchildren and beyond that who still lived there, he only wanted them to forgive him. Really, was it so much to ask for? He just wanted his family to cherish him, but he also wanted his own personal space. He wanted to cherish them. He wasn't a "lone wolf" type. He was a family person, he had never liked being alone. And so as he approached, he'd bite his lip behind his mask head tilting. "Man, I've been hearing a lot about this Circusclown guy... Uh, anyway. You know, you're sort of... trespassing?" He'd huff, gaze softened as it hid behind his mask.

[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 450px; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;]//wHEEZES IT S SO GOOD OMG
congrats on your 8000th post!! <3
[hr][hr]
Circusclown knew little to nothing about Tama. She was still an unknown figure to him, and they likely wouldn't ever be buddy buddy. He just didn't easily open up to people. Sure, he could be likable and befriend someone, but that didn't mean he was going to tell the other about himself nor that he actually considered them someone he'd protect with his life. It took so many steps to learn things about him, to a point he was only a mystery at this point. Sometimes he barely knew himself. He could only guess Tama had met many bad days, many horrible days. Things she wouldn't forget. Nobody was really truly satisfied, were they? He couldn't believe anyone could truly be a bubbly individual, there was always some sort of memory haunting someone. Even something like social anxiety was crippling, nobody truly had a life made of success and happy times.

He was not curious about the past, he didn't want to know if there was anything else he had forgotten. There likely was, at certain points if he was under extreme stress he would forget entirely what happened. Maybe it was bad to push away those things, but he personally wished to lose his memory, or maybe even to fizzle away. But he knew that likely wouldn't happen anytime soon, and he was just desperate to try and somehow make up for everything he's done. Maybe to just live through it. So far, sometimes it felt more like he was surviving rather then actually living. He.. probably was exaggerating, though. He wanted to feel sorry for himself, but he wasn't the only one with hardships. He tried to keep to himself, he felt it would be self-centered to act like he had it bad. He was always curious what other's felt, what they were thinking. Sometimes, it saddened him to realize just how dark everyone was nowadays. Everyone stood tall to the best of their abilities, but often they would want to fall down. He was sure of that.

Tama, he had seen her... Distressed? Maybe... Scared? He hadn't known what it had been when she was crying over his corpse, with her trident driven through his throat. He remembered his neck splitting open where it had been penetrated, flesh exposed as a dark crimson slipped off revealing underneath it all, he was built off of flesh and bone. He had been dying anyway. However, this was... Interesting. The mighty Blizzardclan leader who was a good friend to all but a fascinating enemy to him, attempting to feed herself marshmallows and hunched forward. What was she saying? His ear flicked forward, bicolor eyes scanning over the form of the female.

He wasn't sure who Lacie was, he didn't really care. It was almost impossible to tell whether he cared about anyone in Blizzardclan, or if he still even knew what affection was. He seemed to constantly say one thing and then say the opposite, that he didn't care or that he cared very deeply. He was very emotional beneath it all, so perhaps he did care, even if it wasn't very much. He had always been sensitive to other's feelings unless he was having a meltdown that lasted more then a week or two. So perhaps the answer is that it really depended. He tried his best to put other's feelings before his own, but whenever he did put his feelings first, it ended badly. Perhaps now, he'd try to figure out what was bothering Tama.

She did seem like a cheery one, and he was going to assume a lot of people relied on her. Too many people. It was a good thing she had so many people who were family and friends, she was a likable person. But he didn't believe friends would stick by someone's side, when someone is pushed too far they will ignore anyone they loved or cared about. Perhaps that is what he did in The Exiles. Nonetheless though, he wished to figure out what was bothering her. "Um, what's wrong Tama?" He questioned. He had to admit, the more and more she protected him the more he felt safe here. He still wouldn't trust anyone here with his life, but he might never trust anyone with his life ever again. It felt odd that he felt just a tad bit safer because of the fact she had protected him. It didn't feel right, but then again he felt very out of place in general.

[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 450px; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;](NO DONT WORRY!! mine is late too aa. sorry im pretty tired so this post is lame aa
yea retro would be good!! unless you would rather it be after haha

Life was unpleasant, in fact sometimes it was just overwhelming. Honestly, nobody had prepared him for this whole "grown up" thing but eh, he'd make it. Probably. He was worried about others, he wondered if they were as stressed as he was? He didn't know, but he sure hoped not. He had to admit, he still didn't know exactly who set the fire, but it seemed someone had set it. He wouldn't pester her about it, not unless she obviously was saddened or began to talk about it. As she replied, he'd quickly text back as he stood up. yea!! that'd b great. He would then hold onto his phone before putting it down, beginning to get ready to go as he slicked back his sandy blonde hair .

[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 450px; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;]i won't be able to post very much this week, but i'll try my best.

[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 450px; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;]//tracking, will participate

[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 450px; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;]As Breadstick approached, his eyes hidden by the shadows of his mask as he began to tap at his mask subconsciously. "Hey, welcome to... Blizzardclan." God, it was a force of habit to say The Exiles. He needed to catch himself more often. As he continued to study her, he thought for a moment. There were so many younger members joining here, where were their parents? A lot of the times, they seemed dead. Kinda seemed crazy there were so many orphans, it was like there were rockets coming down from space just randomly crushing adults. Heheh, he had to admit that was kind of funny to imagine but he knew that it wasn't something to take lightly. His mind drifted to his own mother, and he found his amused smile turning neutral, not that anyone could really see his expression anyways. She wasn't too young, it was around the age children begin to mature and make their own decisions. So he'd not think too much into it.

[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 450px; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;]//dw about it!! i understand :3 im late also im sorry ;v;
honestly sAME?? LIKE,, idk. i have no clue how to take him from mysterious masked man to circusclown. sobs
what would kai x circusclown ship name be tho

[hr][hr]

Trust was a tricky thing, it was hard to know who to trust. From a general perspective, he was not trustworthy. He didn't think he was trustworthy, and really he wasn't. He was easily changed, anything could tumble him to a point he was suddenly the enemy. Someone would tread with care, they should not skip around with him like they were in a field of flowers. He was unpredictable, he was like a storm that started suddenly but was quick to end, he was someone that could be twisted and bended by someone else even. Breadstick didn't know if he trusted anybody, he didn't know if he trusted Kai or any Blizzardclanner. He was very hard to gain full trust of, in fact it was almost impossible at this point. There would always be that sense of insecurity to haunt him, but he only hoped he could trust Kai. He wanted to, after all he liked the other quite a bit and as of now, he was the only thing Breadstick could cling to. He likely would be for a long time, and he feared he'd bore the other with his boring chit chat and mental breakdowns.

As he peered over the wolf's shoulder to see what he gestured at, he found his lips tugging into a soft smile and a laugh slipped past his lips. "I think you should give yourself more credit." He'd gently respond, before trying to pull the wolf's ear back and forth with a paw, perhaps to agitate him or perhaps because he didn't like holding still. Ears perking, he smirked. "Well, what sorta romance are you into?" For certain reasons, he'd like to know. "Rom-coms eh? Where'd you get those?" He laughed a little after, seeming to find it amusing that Kai suggested he looked great. Aw, how nice of him. He was unfortunately wrong though.

[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 450px; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;]Hm. Not much going on, but it wasn't like he really cared what was going on. He was very late, but that was okay. Nobody really noticed or cared about him for the most part, and he liked that. Ears perking forward since it was simply nice to listen to someone, especially when there was nothing left to do, he simply nodded quietly.

[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 450px; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;]Betrayal was an emotion he understood perfectly, especially when it comes to another person. A lot of his family thought he had betrayed The Exiles, that he was a traitor who deserved to be put to death. Exilers didn't understand anything but "murder," did they? No, it doesn't seem so. It was a sad thing, really. He hadn't hurt anyone there when he left, he hadn't even wanted to tell them who he was. In a sense, his family had betrayed him. They acted as if he owed them something, and some he did but the one's he did owe were not who was complaining and acting like an abandoned puppy. He had done nothing to deserve this label of a traitor among the Disharmony family, among The Exiles. But that was... Okay? It didn't feel okay, he truly felt remorseful and alone.

But that was not the problem at hand here, right this minute. The greatest problem is when someone padded up with a stitched up throat wound, it likely needed a little bit of more medical attention. It could grow infection or something. Last time he believed he could heal something himself, his face ended up growing swollen, infected, and covered with bugs. That was when Tama killed him, leading to what he had wished and wanted to be the end of his story. The true desire he wanted, to die and be at peace. "Who's there? An injured guy? Someone should come here soon to help you a little more with that injury." He was tempted to laugh, but he decided not to as he cleared his throat. Turning to an NPC who approached, he would quickly send them off to get someone who knows how to heal.

[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 450px; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;]Littlekit.

As Breadstick slowly came closer, he found his lips curling backwards in agitation. Blindfold could have killed Littlekit, and Breadstick might have just sat back and watched. No, he wouldn't have. But what he did do, he just sat and watched his own daughter being tortured. Wounded and hurt. What was wrong with him? He had hardened to family, he's been a terrible father. Was he really willing to be more loyal to a group of murderers who didn't even care about him over his family? His family actually loved him. Well, he thought so. But they were the same, they were loyal to people they didn't care about. He guessed, maybe The Exiles were right. He had betrayed them, everyone. He hadn't even helped anyone or apologized to his family, he didn't even leave a goodbye note. It came to a point he didn't know whether he should have left or not.

There would be guilt that weighed him down. It seemed lately, his true feelings were showing. His trauma and depression twisting him around, and he had been twisted to go insane. But it seemed, he had been twisted one bit too far and it had broke him. His family didn't deserve it, he just didn't want to hurt them. He had a tendency to hurt people whether he meant to or not, and he guessed that was his fault. He was not strong. There would only be a depression filling him to the brim with emotion. Despite what a lot of people had seen and thought of him, he was someone filled with emotion. He choked it out as best as he could, but he knew it didn't work as he would have liked it to. He was supposed to be masculine and strong, he wasn't supposed to cry. He was supposed to be a grown adult, but yet he was dependent on other's and only with intense pressure could he defend himself. He was not a strong person, he never had been. He had the mentality of a child, to feel desperate for attention and to cling onto what he found. And he shrieked, he screamed and sobbed and shouted when bad things happened, he reacted the only way he knew which was with a violence.

He could feel his lip twitching a little, heart seeming to be pulled around as it grew heavy. It felt like something was squeezing him, the only thing he heard was the pounding of his heart, and the agitation making his upper lip pull upward with sharpened teeth and rotted gums tearing into his skin angrily. His face was hidden behind the mask, and slowly he took cold steps forward before trying to conjure his club straight above Blindfold before trying to bash him across the lips with it, hoping to bash open his gums and maybe knock a tooth out. He wanted to see that hot pink fur covered with blood, sticking onto the tiger's fur and covering his face. He wanted to give him a crooked jaw, he wanted to smash this motherfucker under his paw. He could feel his heart rushing and he only heard himself. "I'll be thankful to kill you." A small laugh spilled from his lips, eyes fixated on the tiger. It was hard to tell whether he was angry or if he was insane, but one thing was for sure is that he was violent at the moment. "How dare you, that is someone from your shitty clan's wall. It's all gross and crap, get it the hell out of here - or well, if you get out right now you might be able to survive with it." He mumbled with a low growl. Did he believe it was wrong? No, he didn't care about how wrong that was right now. It was wrong Blindfold tortured his daughter. He should be careful who he messes with, who he hurts because for all he knew he might end up facing Circusclown.

[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 450px; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;]Who would have thought one of The Exiles leader's would turn into a good guy? Well, he wasn't really good. He didn't have much morals, and in fact he was here proving that. But there were certain times, where he was able to remember who he was. The memories that were faded, the memories of his childhood. It was a bit blurry. Really, sometimes memories were hard to remember from when he lived here even. Perhaps it was the trauma he's been experiencing, or maybe it's just because he wants to forget and is trying something. Hell if he knew. But now, now "Breadstick" was on their territory, looking at the wall of corpses. It looked like they were taking it down.

He had come alone. Being alone especially in dark or crowded spaces made him feel jittery, but alone in The Exiles? He might just have a mental breakdown, but then again perhaps that is what he was experiencing right now. He was alone close to people he hated, people like Leonidas specifically. That scared him. This was simply terrifying. But why he was here, was the question. He wasn't here with intents to murder, nor to be taken away. He came here for the sake of getting anger out, and to try and face his fears. Or maybe, he did have intent to murder. Maybe he wanted to kill someone. As he ripped down a corpse from the wall of dead bodies, he barged through feeling a dead form carrying the sickness of The Exiles hang over his form and he found him grinning, and maybe it was a sneer. He kept tight to his mask, shaking off a piece of flesh that landed on his head and nearly slipped through the crack of his mask.

Taking a deep breath, his tongue began to loll around in his mouth before he swallowed down fear, throat dry and lips chapped. His nose wrinkled up, not with disgust but rather agitation as he swung a corpse over his shoulders. This... This would come in useful. Yes, it was a very bad idea to let Breadstick take this corpse home with him. But he was going to. They'd have to kill to stop him, and he'd be okay with dying. No point in living, was there? But now, now he wanted to piss on someone's petty nerves. "GOLLY GEE! YOUR WHOLE WALL THING SMELLS WORSE THEN COW MANURE!" He'd scream out. It was perhaps, another episode of instability.

[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 450px; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;]breadstick is circusclown in disguise, although basically everyone knows he's circusclown at this point. i just have no idea how to transition him from masked man to publicly walking around without his mask, so if u have ideas tell me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
anyway though, he has developed a lot of fears & is very emotional, and he is trying to figure out who he is and what he's gonna do with his life. he is pretty rough and hot-headed, and loves children, cooking, and simply messing around. he is badly addicted to alcohol and has a tendency to be mean & cruel when he's even a little drunk, and seems like an entirely different person when he gets really drunk. he doesn't hold back his thoughts on matters too much, especially if they're harsh. he's very pessimistic and always has a negative outlook on things, although he'll act somewhat friendly and positive. he has a tendency to react to things one way, and then do the exact opposite when things happen again. he is the former exiles leader, current blizzardclan head combatant, and is the current head of the disharmony family (albeit he might get stripped of that eventually.) he has all powers, although he only uses them if it's absolutely necessary in battle because it makes him incredibly sleepy to use for long periods of time. he has a very bad fear of going insane, and often has periods of time (a few hours, or even a few days) where he's violent and cruel.

he is open to
- pranks
- being a shoulder to cry on
- getting drunk & fighting your character or just starting shit
- your character becoming his therapist
-

[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 450px; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;]Man, did they all think he was making insults to try and make them cry? Did they think he was saying it to be intimidating? Nah, he was saying it to get some attention, to rile someone up. This, this was not the Circusclown he tried to be. He was unstable, he was angry and confused. He was about to respond to Cyrus whenever his ears flicked towards Dystopia, and he bit his lip before jumping above her, with super strength making his jump ten times higher. Coming to a stop, his lip curled outward with a smug sort of grin, hidden behind his mask. As Cyrus spoke up, he found his heart aching a little and his gaze landed across Dystopia.

"Who's this Circusclown person? I'm fucking sick and tired of being accused of this guy, I found out he's a literal serial killer. What the fuck." He huffed. He had to admit, he was a little agitated with them. All of them, they were too self-righteous to get their heads out of their asses and realizing this place was turning them insane. They were not sane, they were not going to last here if they didn't get out. Why, why could nobody accept what he did? Laughs tumbled past his lips, and he felt ready to burst as his little stability and logic was choked down with a rush of hatred, anger, and sadism. Gaze locked on Dystopia, he'd clear his throat before speaking up. "But, from the way you've explained it... He's a traitor, because he left. Holy crap, holy shit, holy son of Mary. You are absolutely the most logical and intelligent person I've ever met... I... I just ah - I applaud." As he'd speak this he'd clap his paws together sarcastically, before a laugh forced out of his mouth.

Looking towards Cyrus, he'd smile lightly. "Take it from me, kid. Family's a waste of time." That was the exact opposite of what Circusclown believed. It seemed odd, how he was acting. It seemed off. Leaning down, he'd say with raspy and shaky words. "They'll bruise ya, they'll spit on you and ignore you. They tell you they care but - but maybe they don't. Maybe they don't want you, nobody wants you. Ya you're just - just alone, maybe the other kids and adults don't love you. Yea." He was shaking, maybe he was scared? Maybe he was angry? He had been this unstable a few months before. He had been this unsteady when he beat Leonidas to death and when he took Brokenrecord's eye. He was like this when he senselessly beat whatever he wanted to, treating people like a piece of meat. It was getting to the point he wouldn't be able to recover.

He'd stare at the apprentice for a while, before clearing his throat and beginning to laugh loudly. "I'm just kidding. Everyone loves you buddy, you're great." He'd mumble after an intense breath, shaking his head as he looked at those there. Heaving up his corpse, he'd wrap it around his shoulders. "I'd love to stay and chat, but this corpse is really heavy." He turned around, keeping an eye behind him however as he began to drag it away, although he'd likely be walking for a very long time.

[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 450px; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;]breadstiltskin
mistystick
lancestick

ships with breadstick??? huhu

[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 450px; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;]Since there seemed plenty of volunteers, as well as the fact Breadstick didn't really want to go to Riverclan, he'd only creep closer to quickly say to those there. "Uh, whoever is going - have fun!" Breadstick would nod, thinking for a moment. Should he say something else? Heh, Maybe he should have done something else. What good would he be if he was always boring? But nothing he could do now.

[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 450px; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;]Ugh, there was something about angels that made him want to punch through their face. It was likely his bad experience with Michael, but he was sure somewhere out in the big fat ugly world there was an angel more pure then holy water. He without a doubt believed he'd go to hell when he died, and it was rightfully believed so. At heart, he was a bad person. He had done bad things - awful things - things he wasn't proud of. If someone wanted to use the excuse that he was just "misunderstood" he appreciated the thought, but the harsh reality of it was that Breadstick was a bad person. Bad things happened to bad people, so he supposed that's why his life was totally great. But anyways, this husky was amusing. He was tempted to speak out and say "hello, my child" and embrace him, but he decided not to for multiple reasons. "I wish it was heaven - nah, this is only Blizzardclan." He began to laugh, before quickly clearing out his throat. "Um - anyways, why are you here? Were you just interested in finding Jesus or...?" He'd trail off.

[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 450px; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;]Oh... Oh well... Well now, it was Sylmae! He remembered her, he ripped out her tongue, mentally messed around with her... Uh, other things too. Breadstick had done so many crimes, done so much horrible things he was beginning to forget what he did to certain people. He wondered... Did Sylmae remember? Probably, she was his nonstop target in Scarclan for a while. Maybe if she hadn't stuck around in Scarclan it wouldn't have happened. He couldn't say he cared at all for Riverclan, although it had been quite entertaining to poison their river, get a few people sick and maybe killed a few.

Ah, but what was he thinking? He still was a sick man, he kept on thinking about how he actually enjoyed hurting Sylmae. He enjoyed poisoning the Riverclan river, he genuinely thought it was quite fun to spread around a little bit of chaos. What's wrong with him? With a lump in his throat as he padded closer, he frowned as he heard the carol. Gross. It wasn't even December yet. Was he gonna have to deal with morons the whole of December? But maybe he should lighten up a bit. It's just that, his last Christmas he had spent with people who he would have liked to split open their neck now. He supposed, the free things and the fun times were worth it. But he just hoped he didn't have to hear singing - he didn't like noise. "Yupyup, I applaud. Very lovely carol." Breadstick laughed a little, as if he thought it was amusing. Quickly cutting through his laugh by clearing his throat, he'd proceed to add in. "Uh - anyways though. Yea, you want some Hot Cocoa or something?" He asked.

[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 450px; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;]//sorry for mistakes, mobile

Breadstick had decided to hop onto the barrier of the floating island, kneeling forward and leaned towards the long ways down rather then the island, and what felt like the world. He never had really paid attention to heights, but right now he wanted to .. Entertain himself. He was bored, and it had been a while since he had felt thrill. Not shock, but true thrill and enjoyment as he tested the limits and saw what he could do. He wanted to be happy, he didn't want to be that boring creep who was always depressed. He felt self-centered to even feel sad, he didn't deserve pity. He honestly had beat himself down for a long time now, and it seemed he was finally beginning to believe it. He was beginning to believe he deserved nothing, that he was worthless. What really boosted that belief was his past encounters with Leonidas, it had pulled him back into how he felt as a child. He felt weak. His anger was watered down by hurt.

Since he had killed Leonidas, since his face had been revealed to all, he had been emotionally drained. He hadn't been up to the challenge of socializing or making friends, honestly he was just ashamed. He had done nothing but drink and drink, always alone and not caring whether it's day or night anymore. It was hopelessness he felt. It had been a long time since he truly felt like there was only darkness around him. He felt guilty for even feeling bad, for trying to blame everything on other people. He was the traitor here, he was the one who had hurt so many people.

In all honesty, with everything that had been going on someone might not have been surprised if he just hauled himself completely over the barrier, trying to end it all. But he'd regret it. He was scared he'd feel regret for it far too late to fix, he would be dead by the time he he tried to go back on his decision. But yet, he felt like there was no reason to cling onto life. He had recently felt disconnected, simply disinterested in anything but overthinking and moping. It hurt so much, that The Exiles - the people he had time and time again risked his life for, raised a family in, put every ounce of blood in his body into it - they thought he was a traitor. They all wanted to hurt him like Leonidas did, they hated him. He was alone, again. For the second time in his life he absolutely had nothing. No importance, no honor, no morals, no family, no joy. He was low on confidence, he was sick and tired of trying to look on the brightside. Always did have a negative outlook though.

But anyways, he was sitting on the barrier as best as he could, paws gripped tightly to it with the intent to hold on. His paws soon fixated on the other clouds in the distance. From up here, it was an amazing view. He had never really had a view from so high up, but he supposed he never bothered to think anything else other then "I live on a cloud." He very easily could have looked from this view sooner, although he probably didn't have to sit on the barrier to do it. But hey, the higher the better! He found it quite refreshing to feel the wind blowing at him. He usually stuck to a beach, but he didn't really have that here.

[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 450px; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;]Er... The Exiles... He was a Head Combatant and he was extremely familiar with battle, but honestly going there only made him uncomfortable and afraid. He actually tried to face his fears a little while back, a few days ago. He had been drinking, and he had ended up burying one of those bodies infected and he couldn't remember where. He had said cruel words to Cyrus, and it had been both because he had grown angry and unstable when he had been there as well as his hurtful tendencies when drunk. But he wasn't drunk right now... He just... He needed to go. He had to. He would manage to breath with the lump in his throat, although breath heavy. "Coming."