Posts by Felix Alexius.

[align=center]
[fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 475px; cursor: url("https://31.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lqs4osv61Z1qfoi4t.png"), auto; margin-top: -11px; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt]He wasn't certain if he was glad or not that Dorian had found him first — perhaps it would've been better if he'd been happened upon by a stranger and had his throat slit by somebody who believed him to be somebody different. Alas, he expected he would walk away from this situation alive, and so deigned himself to settle into a less respectable slouch, exhaustion piling weight onto his body until he could no longer remain as composed as he had done.

" I'm starting to think my name's a joke, " he replied vaguely, shaking his head once and wincing at the pain that brought, forcing back all signs of discomfort and replacing it with a warm smile. " Six days, now. It's still early days — there's life in me yet. " and that life was wavering and slipping past him as he spoke, but his heart still hammered in his chest, and that was enough for him.

[size=1px][color=transparent] #felixalexius

[align=center]
[fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 475px; cursor: url("https://31.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lqs4osv61Z1qfoi4t.png"), auto; margin-top: -11px; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt]Felix snorts, and it's almost a laugh, but not quite. There's pain in it, a dull agony that he can't quite mask, and for once, he doesn't care. He's been through this before, it's old torment. It's familiar in its drowning lack of bliss, and he's learned not to take the muffled moments for granted. " I'm still trying to see the funny side. " he replies, and then he nods, his expression twisting temporarily. It'll take less time than before, he expects. He doesn't have the medicines his father forced down his throat time and time again, and so his life will not be as prolonged. Still, at least, if he stays in this body, he'll live past twenty-nine months of age. The thought is almost hilarious, but it isn't enough to curve his lips into a smile.

He gives another snort, then, at the comment on a bucket list. " I might get myself captured by WindClan's other enemies. I've got three ticked off, " he gives a laugh. " I might as well complete the full tour. " he glances to the side at Holston, then, and nods his head. The fellow lion does not seem hostile, so Felix can only hope he'll refrain from attacking. Even in this bigger body, he is ever weaker.

[size=1px][color=transparent] #felixalexius

[align=center]
[fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 475px; cursor: url("https://31.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lqs4osv61Z1qfoi4t.png"), auto; margin-top: -11px; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt]It was not a gradual process, but likewise, it was also not rushed — it was a steady but relatively brisk climb towards a world in which Felix was fully replaced by other people. He'd begun to notice it long before the darkspawn had returned and ripped away his life, but now, in the wake of the news of his inevitable, premature demise, it was becoming more and more noticeable from his point of view. He no longer had that small, singular group of 'closest people', as those individuals that had been parts of it were inexplicably drifting away of their own accord. He had not banished them from his presence with cruel words and an angry attitude, and yet, all the same, people were leaving him, slowly, to indulge in the companies of other people better suited for their personalities.

And remarkably, Felix was perfectly content with that. Though it meant that he would likely breathe his last breaths alone, as he had done, technically, the first time, which was an unimaginably frightening experience, it also meant that his loss would hopefully not be felt so heavily. Few people would be affected and perhaps not majorly — perhaps they'd simply feel empathy for his corpse for a few moments, and then continue on with their healthy existences. It would not bother him so much to be forgotten; it was his destiny, written from the very first time he opened his eyes. He was doomed to die, and he was doomed to die without enough people to care about that. Felix had resigned himself to that fate, one of loneliness and neglect, even more so than he had to death. He'd learned that he was not meant to be loved from his earliest days in WindClan. His parents had not been the greatest at their jobs.

Without the medicines that had prolonged his existence beforehand, Felix's death, though gradual and painful still, would last a significantly shorter amount of time. This period would dry up and render him dead in a few months at worst, a few weeks at best, and he expected he'd be gone before he reached a chronological age of nine months. Optimistic as he was, he didn't lie to himself. He was useless. He was worthless. And he was, to put it frankly, going to die in an unfairly horrific manner, drowning in toxins that burst the banks of his veins and swarmed his body, brain filling with the shrieks of the darkspawn below. It had been but a few days, but the illness had already progressed to its second distinguishable stage; he'd spent a night retching, body desperately trying to reject true darkspawn taint, and now, in the early hours of the morning, he was shaking uncontrollably, eyes watering of their own volition, dark, sickly tears staining his cheeks. Without the medicines to block the symptoms, he felt it all ten-fold, and imagined he looked half-mad, half-dead already.

Stomach empty and hollow, Felix, vision blurred by unexpected tears, stumbled blindly through his home, colliding with any surface he could and feeling bruises bloom at a ridiculous rate — the taint escalated that, too, he knew. His chin and throat felt wet and sticky, and he anticipated a vein had burst — he'd have to deal with that, too. He blinked rapidly, aiming to restore his vision, but to no apparent avail; he was wheezing, and eventually came to a halt outside on the ground, a tangled mess of limbs and a bright yellow hoodie that blissfully obscured his features. It was too bright. Too bright. He wanted to scream. He wanted to, but he couldn't, so he clenched his teeth, shut his eyes and focused on his breathing.

[size=1px][color=transparent] #felixalexius

[fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 430px; cursor: url("https://31.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lqs4osv61Z1qfoi4t.png"), auto; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt; font-family: verdana; line-height: 1.4;]FINALLY, THE PLOT
Also yeah, the last bit is all that’s needed to respond, but the background is what makes this whole thing more than gibberish
>w<
[hr]
It's eight at night and he's hacking up blood. If anybody is to find him, they'll see a shell of the man he once was. He's tried to cure himself with magic and it's taking its toll; it did not heal him, but now the poison's effects have sped up, leaving him on his death bed, a thick, black substance oozing from his jaws, his opened wounds, burst veins, his tear ducts. He's been like this for a while now, but time slows to a crawl when the Blight takes hold; he knows this from experience, but didn't anticipate it to reach him so quickly. This will likely continue for a fortnight at most before the end, this constant stream of torment as his body loses and replaces blood, until he can no longer keep going and he succumbs to the black that is rapidly consuming him. The powers suppressed the symptoms for the most part, last time, but this is something new; Felix has always known it was due to be worse, but there's something unfair about the situation as a whole, and he wants to scream. The sounds are clogged by the blood, however, tar thickening in his throat, and it doesn't hurt, but it's alien, and that might be worse.

-

It's nine at night and he's not in WindClan. He doesn't know if it's the same night or a different night, but the blood has slowed. He can swallow it back now, rotting like decay in his jaws, and he doesn't know where he's going, but he's stumbling like a drunk. Weeks ago, he sent a message to Tevinter. Weeks ago, he received one back, disbelieving, so he responded. Weeks ago, he made contact with his homeland, and that contact escalated. He left WindClan to meet with an old friend, and in a multitude of manners proved his identity. The friend remained in the vicinity for a few days, and Felix visited him with stories and information. In return, he was presented with propositions: "he could come back, he could reclaim the Alexius seat. Supposedly, some pathetic excuse for a second or third cousin of some sorts had taken up the position in the Magisterium, and Felix technically had a stronger claim to the position. Now that he's no longer dying..." but Felix had not considered going home in a long time, and at that point, he started to. Perhaps he ought to, he'd thought — and now he thinks he's a fool for ever deciding not to.

-

It's ten at night and Felix doesn't think he's in clan territory any more. He knows that it isn't the same night any more, but he also doesn't think that matters. Nineteen days ago, he sent a message to Tevinter with the news that he was dying. It was not specifically sent to the place as a whole, but rather directed to the old friend. ‘It's a shame,’ he remembers writing, ‘that I'm dying. I rather liked the notion of having a normal life.’ third time's the charm, though, eh, Alexius? Perhaps Felix will return again some day, with a new life and identity, perhaps named Felix again, left to rediscover himself, and maybe then he will be able to eke out that regular existence he so badly desires. The idea is what keeps him going towards where he expects he'll ultimately lay down his head and die, undiscovered by his clanmates, but he has no doubt that he'll regret writing them a note. Something that tells them not to worry, to forget him, to demote him. Something that apologises to the people he cared about for being so very pathetic, for disappearing before he can get to tell them how he feels. Or, rather, felt. Felix is thinking in past tense, almost, his mind set on the future. It's tough, realising that he's heading towards his own demise, but necessary.
He still regrets not writing a note, though.

-

It's eleven at night and it's definitely still the same night, Felix is positive. He is no longer gagging blood and the wounds have sealed over again, but it has etched itself into his cheeks as tear-tracks, and he can feel the poison pulsing through his veins. He's been thinking of what he'd say if he'd written a note, and the most he's come up with is some lousy explanation of why he left. ‘I'm sorry for disappearing. It's just gotten to the point where I'm scared to show my face in case I disgust you.’ it sounds terribly vain, but he's not self-conscious because he cares about his appearance. He's just thinking of the young, the bighearted, the sensitive. He can't imagine they'd ever want to gaze upon the hollow, muscle-less, emaciated freak that is now Felix, and so he has run away. Is that not a suitable reason to flee from the place he’s called home for the last seven months? To him, it seems that way, and he feels some remorse if he’s caused any distress. But he can’t imagine anybody will have noticed his absence, and so he does not feel as sorry as he maybe ought to do. Again, he still regrets not writing that note.

-

It’s midnight and this is getting old. He’s been feeling sharp throbs that mark the seconds, subconsciously counting his way through the hours, but he’s at his wits’ end, no longer willing to continue keeping track of the time, and yet by this point, it’s the only thing keeping him going. He had a bad relapse, and now doesn’t know the day, but he thinks an hour has passed, though it may be more, may be less. There’s a trail of blood behind him and his throat is covered in it, but Felix is still going. He doesn’t know where, as aforementioned, but he knows that if he keeps walking, he will end up somewhere. Two weeks ago, he received a letter back from his friend expressing utmost concern, though it was one that Felix could reply to only with the statement ’I AM STILL ALIVE’. And he is, even now, though he doesn’t know whether to class his current state as a life. He’s existing, but he’s not feeling; he’s numb, and he’s losing his mind.

-

It’s one in the morning, and Felix is no closer to breaking the habit. The ground beneath him is muddy, wet and soft, and his limbs sink when he moves. The blood has again slowed and thickened, the wounds have scabbed over, and Felix has a sharper mind than he had beforehand. The moon hangs over his head and it’s ominous, but it’s not as ominous as the death creeping through his veins, and he swears he’s not even on the continent any more. It’s an odd notion, for he’s crossed no sea, but the world feels different, and … it feels familiar, oddly so. It’s dirty, though, and he’s walking through high grass and over plains that were once flat but are now marred by mud, yet despite all of this, it clicks with him. He squints int he distance and sees the faintest speck of light, and he swears he’s been there and stared out across these flats before, but it’s ludicrous, so he puts his head down and keeps going.

And then he hears the dogs. It’s one in the morning, and Felix can hear baying, but it’s not the usual bark of a dog, because even they have the edge of intelligence, the sort that screams sentience. This is not the same, and it makes Felix stop, slow down and lift his head, his jaws parted and dribbling grey saliva. They’re slowed by the mud but they’re heading towards him, and their muzzles are blunted and wedge-shaped, their shoulders broad and their haunches thick, and perhaps they resemble an English Mastiff, but they’re nothing like them; they’re smart, but they aren’t aware, and they’re leading more animals on a trail towards him. His head spins, and for a moment, he panics, considering turning and stumbling away — they may mistake him for the darkspawn that poisoned him, and he doesn’t want to be savaged by dogs. And yet, he thinks, does he have much of a choice? A mercy-kill is preferable when compared to the slow demise he’s to be subjected to.

So Felix stops walking. He’s exhausted and close to dropping now that he thinks about it, and so he gives in, his legs buckling as he sinks to his stomach in the mud. The barking Mabaris stop metres away and circle him, and he thinks he counts four or five, but he’s not sure — there could be one, there could be twenty. Voices find him eventually, quiet then growing louder, shouts, and he expects claws or jaws or a sword through his back, and all he can whisper is: “ The Blight … don’t touch- ” he breaks off, however, too weak to continue, but he’s certain they’ve heard him, because the voices stop, suddenly, cutting off, and then he finally does succumb, surrendering to the fatigue that’s fast-descending on his mind, and Felix dies a little that night, cold yet feverish on Ferelden flats at an ungodly time in the tentative spring.

-

It’s six in the morning when Felix awakes, and he’s not dead. Miraculously, he’s not dead, and even more so, he’s not outside. He’s in a bed, as human as it sounds, with a thin sheet slung over him to act as a blanket, and when he lifts his head, though it feels like a ten-ton weight on a thin stick, he finds that his throat does not feel thick with murder. He blinks unevenly, stares about the room, and he twitches one paw; there was a familiar vein there, permanently arisen and throbbing, but when he squints, it is gone, and when he blinks and looks again, it is still, definitely gone. It has faded back to its normal state beneath the flesh, not pressing to escape, and Felix doesn’t understand; he turns to look at any other part of his visible body, nudging the sheet, and finds the same for the rest. The veins may be visible, but they’ve all died down, and though the wounds are there, they are already fading into a regular, flesh-coloured set of scars. It’s odd, he thinks, then realising that his hoodie is gone, but he doesn’t have much time to ponder; there’s a flare of pain behind his eyes, flashing white, and an aching desire to sleep seizes him once more, and he’s out before his head even hits the mattress.

-

Felix wakes up and he doesn’t know the time, but he’s still in that room, and he’s still safe. Something has changed, though; there’s a person in the room with him — or, two people — and he recognises one of them.

“ You aren’t meant to be here. ”
“ Neither are you, pretty boy, but y’ain’t see people complainin’ ‘bout that. ‘m here to be the first to officially welcome y’into th’ Wardens, ’n’ … shit. Yeah. ‘was pretty weird. Last time I saw ya, y’were all … veiny ’n’ … dyin’ ’n’ shit. Now ya just like exhausted. ”

Felix glances past the hooded tiger and looks at the stoic lion beside him, but as the ebony beast offers no words, he looks back to Bacchus with mild disbelief.

“ I’m not a Warden — I’m not … ” he pauses, searching for the right word. “ Fit enough. The Wardens only take people that can benefit them- ”
“ -unless I get involved an’ make ‘em. Or unless they decide they ain’t gonna let ya die. You’re a Vint, buddy — and that means you’re good at fightin’ ’n' magic ’n’ shit. ”

Felix gives a horrified snort. Bacchus grins at him, warmly, and he knows he has no choice. He can feel strange whispers in the backs of his ears, but they aren’t as foreboding as those he’d come to hate whilst suffering from the sickness, and he trusts that they’re the results of becoming a Warden. He knows next to nothing about the Order, but he does know that they fight darkspawn; perhaps they’re able to sense them, or perhaps he’s not cured. Perhaps he’s just dying a slow death as he always has been, only with more granted time and else pain. Perhaps all Wardens are — he doesn’t know. But what he does know is that he’s trapped here unless he’s released. Runaway Wardens aren’t particularly popular — or so he’s learned.

“ I’m staying here, then …? ”
“ Nah. Not unless you want to. ‘m not meant to have done what I did, but I’d got no choice. You can be a Warden, or you can leave. Special case. ” the lion finally speaks up, and Felix looks at him, inhales, exhales, and swallows.
“ The Blight, is it-? ”
“ Nah. One of the perks of being a Warden is you’re immune to the taint. You’re Blight-free in the bad way, but, uh, you’re still tainted. In a way. You can sense the ’spawn, the ’spawn can sense you, and you’re locked in eternal battle. Other than that and the nightmares, though, and the inevitable death, you’re free to go. You’ll probably survive longer than you would’ve, had I left you. ”

Bacchus nods at him, and Felix decides he’ll take what he can get.

“ If I leave, may I ever come back? ”
“ Yeah. Warn me, though. You turnin’ up unannounced’ll only get me into trouble. ”

He’s being allowed to go, and Felix can’t believe his luck. He’s still too weak to move, but a few days’ rest will resolve that, he’s willing to bet. It’s the notion of surviving that seems so improbable to him — but he makes his Oaths in the meantime, promises to fight the darkspawn should he ever come across them, as their reach has spread further than the Wardens, and he wastes hours speaking to Bacchus. The days pass quickly in a single room, however, and by the time the mysterious ebony lion is ready to leave, Bacchus seems willing to flee back to Tevinter, and Felix knows he has to face the music, as difficult as it may inevitably be.
He doesn’t regret not writing that note.

-

It’s seven at night and Felix is back in WindClan. At twenty-nine months mentally and seven physically, the maneless lion is not yet fully grown, but he’s mindful, with wise, dark eyes. He’s ditched his regular garment in favour of Grey Warden colours, and the contrasts of blue and grey and black rather than a usual yellow and brown will likely strike him as unexpected, but Felix has changed in his short journey away, and though it is somewhat unnoticeable at first, there are differences that will cling in time. He’s stronger, and there’s an obvious addition to his appearance in the fact that a staff is now slung over his back; his lightning-channeling abilities have increased tenfold, and he is no longer entirely defenceless. Wardens aren’t allowed to be, he’s told himself, and he’s learned how to regulate his lyrium intake for the maximum yield for somebody like him, and is no longer easily exhausted by the smallest of spells — though he’s not the greatest, there’s a different edge to the current-adult, justice in a sea of endless mercy.

He doesn’t know if he’ll be welcomed back, but he doesn’t want to overstep the border, so Felix halts at it, rounded ears perking forwards. “ Hello? ” he calls, cocking his head to the side. His voice sounds different, too, though not by much — and there’s a distinct lack of stumbling and slurring as he settles down into a patient sitting position, waiting for attendance by one of his old clanmates. Perhaps he’ll be forgiven for his absence, and perhaps not — perhaps he’ll be despised, and perhaps not — but regardless, Felix knows that sacrifices have to be made, and he can only hope that he’s strong enough to withstand potential rejection.

/shitty ending + rushed but i wanted this to start lmao
> edited for mistakes

http://i.imgur.com/f3sQr1y.jpg

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[size=1px][color=transparent] #felixalexius

[align=center][fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 430px; cursor: url("https://31.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lqs4osv61Z1qfoi4t.png"), auto; margin-top: -11px; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt](:
[hr]
He feels small again, compacted, but it's not terrible to be youthful again. Perhaps the Warden taint still looms over him, and perhaps his life has been warped forever. Perhaps the freedom he's longed for is gone, but whatever the case, this mild shakiness is preferable when he considers his condition not too long ago. Fatigue still hollows his eyes, but Felix looks better than he has done in weeks — and it has drastically improved his mood, though he's almost edged with iron, now, hesitation swelling into paranoia behind his tongue as he scans a once-familiar land.

' I'm not hallucinating this, am I? '

It's amusing that the first voice is this one, but there aren't many more people that Felix can say he'd want to discover him so quickly. A large crowd is never preferred to a small group, or even a single individual — and of all to come across him, somebody he knows is always better than a stranger. It does make him think, though, and he wonders how many strangers now occupy WindClan. Perhaps, now, he can promise permanence in his existence here, and perhaps he may even naturally exceed his previous age. It's a painfully optimistic thought, but one that Felix is reluctant to shake. Perhaps he doesn't have to wait for a third life, ripped away from everything he knows once more. He hopes so.

' I mean, that cookie was a bit iffy but it wouldn't ... wouldn't make me delusional. '

The cub twists slightly to nudge his staff back, shaking his head mutely. Thoughts of cookies bring memories of Gerard, but he hasn't seen his brother in months; Felix thinks it's time to let go, but he's still not ready to do so. He left Dan and Phil in the dirt long ago, just as they did to him, but Gee hadn't ever abandoned him in the way that their parents had, and he doesn't think it'll do the other male justice to so easily turn a blind eye to him. Maybe one day he'll return; maybe he's gone forever. Either way, Felix isn't willing to risk releasing his last strands of hope. His lips press into a thin, temporary line of regret, then, entirely of their own volition, and he quickly shakes the negativity from his mind.

" Hi. " he says, entirely at a loss for words, but the speechlessness apparently doesn't matter. He's almost glad, now, that he's learned how to predict the touchy-feely natures of those about him, because he no longer flinches when people step towards him, and Felix doesn't pull away when he's embraced, returning the gesture with only a small sound of disapproval when he's asked how he's alive. He's glad nobody about here properly understands his cultures, and will likely not recognise the new garment he wears. Still, if he is to ever bother the likes of Dorian, it will become obvious. " I can't ... I can't say. I'm alive, though — that's not going to change. " he gnaws on his lower lip, then abandons the habit, staring instead at a fixed point, eyes half-lidded with thought as he struggles to explain his predicament. " I didn't find a cure, but— it's gone. Mostly. "

He hopes that's enough. He wants to indulge Boypaw on the adventures, he truly does, and it almost hurts to say nothing — for once, Felix has a story to tell, and his lips are sealed. Perhaps one day, he'll break the silence, but for now, the oaths hang heavy, and he doesn't want to disobey them so soon after taking them. " I had some help from a friend, though. A ... an old friend. " but Bacchus isn't part of the rules, and Felix hopes that maybe now, that'll satiate Boypaw's potential curiosity, should it rear its head.

Felix hears Duskpaw, then, and fully opens his eyes, gaze finding the feline stood off to one side. His jaw is locked, his single optic blurred with the threat of tears, and his voice is stiff, wooden, thick. It pains Felix to see his friend like this, but what can he do? Apologise? He certainly can't offer a truthful explanation, and he isn't about to lie — he simply hadn't thought that he would've affected many by leaving. Honestly, Felix knows that he's spent the last few weeks fading out of people's lives. Even before the Blight struck, he was slowly stepping back, letting people leave whatever warmth he'd offered them in favour of the bigger world. It simply never occurred to him that his disappearance would be noticed — he's so used to adopting the 'disposable sidekick' trope that he isn't sure he has the capacity to consider himself as a main character in this little game of theirs.

" I know, I should've said something. I couldn't've stayed, though, not at that point. " he'd been hideous, a mass of venom and death, stumbling and staggering and losing oil at every tip of his skull, dying inside and out in a way that he hadn't wanted anybody to witness. Perhaps he should've written a damned note, but returning after one would've felt cheap. He's not cheap, though — Felix values the relations of others, the companionship they provide him, however fleeting and selfish it may be for them. He's fine with being a coping mechanism, but he's not a lousy one. He doesn't do things by halves, not even death — though once could consider this life a copout from his own, original demise.

He won't take that, though. Felix never meant to come back.

He takes a deep breath, but doesn't move away from Boypaw. He's not there to dictate whether they stay close or not — that's up to the other lion. If Boypaw no longer wants to be near him, then he is free to step back; if not, then Felix will remain where he is. " I'm sorry. " he says after a brief pause, exhaling slowly. He doesn't think it'll ever be enough, but it's a start.

[size=1px][color=transparent] #felixalexius

[align=center][fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 430px; cursor: url("https://31.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lqs4osv61Z1qfoi4t.png"), auto; margin-top: -11px; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt](I'm on mobile and I just woke up, sorry!)

Since returning to WindClan, Felix has done his best to restore order to his home. That has meant scrubbing out the stains, arranging and rearranging everything, and doing his best to cover up any evidence of his previous, debilitating, terminal illness. It's almost a relief to remove the traces of blood from a cupboard, throw out old food and start thinking about restocking, and he finds relief in it, a sense of freedom little else can honestly provide. He always appreciates companionship, but sometimes, he can't help but prefer solitude. He doesn't mean for it to sound mean or antisocial, but it's the unfortunate truth. Being alone allows him time to think and rearrange his mind as much as his living space, and it gives him the opportunity to reevaluate his principles.

There's a knock at the door.

The door isn't locked; there's nothing for him to hide. But courtesy, he knows from experience, can make anybody hesitant. So, rolling his shoulders back, the young cub finishes adjusting the plant pot and hops off his stool, wheeling it back into place and making his way through his living quarters towards the door. Simply from the knocking, he knows who it is — there's a meek hesitance to it that frightens Felix, and whenever something simultaneously concerns and terrifies him, the source is often Duskpaw An unfortunate truth, but a necessary one. If he can come to terms with this, then speaking to the evidently self-loathing apprentice may perhaps become easier. He's not certain, but he does know that when they're in the same room, the lack of self-esteem shared between the both of them is almost suffocating.

He entangles a paw in the rope dangling from the handle, using it to open the door to see Duskpaw, as he predicted. Dark eyes ringed with darker circles study the male for a few, muted moments, and then pearly gates flash in a bright smile, ears perking. It's tentative, uncertain, but it's better than nothing, and Felix is genuinely happy to see his friend. " Hello, Dusk, " he greets, backing up and gesturing for the now-older male to enter beside him. " Is everything alright? "

[size=1px][color=transparent] #felixalexius

[align=center][fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 430px; cursor: url("https://31.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lqs4osv61Z1qfoi4t.png"), auto; margin-top: -11px; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt]Felix's would probably currently be either Far in Time by Mother Mother or Who are you, really? by Mikky Ekko.
Maybe also still Let it Rock by Kevin Rudolf or Glitter & Gold by Barns Courtney.
EDIT: maybe Pure Morning by Placebo, once the plot I've got in mind happens.

[size=1px][color=transparent] #felixalexius

[align=center][fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 430px; cursor: url("https://31.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lqs4osv61Z1qfoi4t.png"), auto; margin-top: -11px; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt]Okay, so Felix has just returned, and I know that normally means that everything ought to return to normal for a while.
BUT
I still have one more plot I need to do with Felix, because there isn't much else for him as a character due to the fact that Felix in-game was around for ten minutes.
And that means I need new face claims/personalities/bodies/maybe names for him, because he's going to hit his head, forget everything and have to start all over again. With a brand new identity, traits, etcetera.
So, who should Felix become this time? i have no ideas please help me

[size=1px][color=transparent] #felixalexius

[align=center][fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 430px; cursor: url("https://31.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lqs4osv61Z1qfoi4t.png"), auto; margin-top: -11px; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt]I'm sure you'll ace it (:

Honestly, do what you need to do to take care of yourself — that's what's most important. <3

[size=1px][color=transparent] #felixalexius

[fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 430px; cursor: url("https://31.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lqs4osv61Z1qfoi4t.png"), auto; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt; font-family: verdana; line-height: 1.4;]I don't really have any preferences, but I like to have something/someone to at least loosely bass him off of, if that makes sense (:

[fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 430px; cursor: url("https://31.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lqs4osv61Z1qfoi4t.png"), auto; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt; font-family: verdana; line-height: 1.4;]I haven't seen TWD yet - I'm caught up on Game of Thrones and my heart can't handle much else.

[align=center][fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 430px; cursor: url("https://31.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lqs4osv61Z1qfoi4t.png"), auto; margin-top: -11px; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt]i was actually planning on having felix step down, as i don't have the muse & im gonna be gone for a few days. just say he steps down sorta between here && the next meeting? sorry !!

[size=1px][color=transparent] #felixalexius

[align=center][fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 430px; cursor: url("https://31.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lqs4osv61Z1qfoi4t.png"), auto; margin-top: -11px; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt]crawls back in
WOW ive been inactive
but it's late so
hopefully my activity will pick up after these tests
what have i missed, in the meantime?

[align=center][fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 430px; cursor: url("https://31.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lqs4osv61Z1qfoi4t.png"), auto; margin-top: -11px; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt]wow, ive missed a lot
and hopefully my activity will pick up soon

[size=1px][color=transparent] #felixalexius

[align=center][fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 430px; cursor: url("https://31.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lqs4osv61Z1qfoi4t.png"), auto; margin-top: -11px; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt]SORRY MY ACTIVITY WILL IMPROVE I SWEAR!!!

It's almost humorous, really, because Felix wants nothing more than for Dusk to stay. Whilst the other boy wrecks himself with thoughts of leaving Felix to protect him, the lion only wishes for his friend to keep close. Though he'll smile and nod understandingly if the other boy wishes to cut ties, the pain will likely do him more damage than any physical wound will ever manage to deal - he's attached, agonisingly so, and he can't control it. It bubbles beneath his skin every time he looks at somebody he cares about, every time he gets a little closer, to the point where it physically aches. " I'm never too busy for you, " he replies quietly, stepping backwards and closing the door behind Dusk.

And he means it. Felix stares at Dusk, at the despondent grief etched into his features, and he realises how fucking stupid he is. He shouldn't have left. He shouldn't have even left to go to StormClan in the first place. Bad things happen to him all the time - why does he tempt them? Why does he get himself into situations that only hurt other people? Dusk's questions alone make him flinch, but he covers it up as best as he can and offers a warm, tender smile. " I can't tell you everything. " he says finally. " But I- Dusk, if you'd seen me- I couldn't let you. Or anyone, for that matter, and I had to go. And a friend of mine, and ... some good people, a good person- they did everything they could to save me. And they did. In a way. I'm not going to die any time soon. "

He sighs, deflating. " I'm sorry for leaving you. I am. I won't do it again. "

[size=1px][color=transparent] #felixalexius

[align=center][fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 430px; cursor: url("https://31.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lqs4osv61Z1qfoi4t.png"), auto; margin-top: -11px; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt]IM ALIve
and hopefully my activity will pick up over this weekend, and will return to normal again
exams have been sucking the lIFE outta me
does anyone want threads with fee, in the meantime?

[size=1px][color=transparent] #felixalexius

[align=center][fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 430px; cursor: url("https://31.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lqs4osv61Z1qfoi4t.png"), auto; margin-top: -11px; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt]Lost all of his hearing last night? Felix just catches those words, and he doesn't know what to think. He was a medic intern, once, before he stepped down, and he's encountered several illnesses throughout both of his lives, but spontaneous deafness ... doesn't seem right. The cub is confused, obviously so, and he makes his way towards the trio, studying the NPC and Percival. " How did he go deaf? Do you know? " he asks, dark eyes even darker with worry.

[size=1px][color=transparent] #felixalexius

[align=center][fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 430px; cursor: url("https://31.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lqs4osv61Z1qfoi4t.png"), auto; margin-top: -11px; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt]" It's coal. " Felix fills in, smelling the burnt edge to the air, acrid and familiar. He's never met either of the trio before, and perhaps that's a good thing - had he known that Dan and Phil's names were Dan and Phil, the friendly boy likely wouldn't have been so friendly. His parents' names were Dan and Phil, and his parents abandoned him.

The lion cub trots closer, studying Tempest with an empathetic smile. " Did you burn your paw badly? " he asks. Burns can get infected - he learned that a while ago - and it's always best to be careful.

[size=1px][color=transparent] #felixalexius