[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]The sound of swishing water, alongside the brisk wail drawn from Jessie's throat. It was then, that his heterochromatic orbs pivoted towards Derrick and Jessie - and whilst a slight tug of nostalgia coiled itself around his throat - he'd allow a blithe grin to sway his jaws. "Jessie, take this one." The serval would add, conjuring a bright fuscia bucket, brimming with water, for the other individual, before conjuring a black one for himself. He'd lunge towards Derrick, aiming to throw the water over his comrade's head.
Posts by NIGHTTALES XERSES
This is an archived version of FeralFront. While you can surf through all the content that was ever created on FeralFront, no new content can be created.
If you'd like some free FeralFront memorabilia to look back on fondly, see this thread from Dynamo (if this message is still here, we still have memorabilia): https://feralfront.com/thread/2669184-free-feralfront-memorabilia/.
-
-
[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]Of course, Vol's flip had drawn him to think. Of course, Nighttales had begun to comb through their recent interactions - or at least, before the other's attitude had changed completely, towards him. He, of course, whilst rifling his mind, had happened to notice the incident when Vol had attacked him, so to say. Where the other had attempted to grab him by the throat.. Perhaps, he had said the wrong things, at the time? No.. The serval could still recall the way by which they happened to sob, and when they hugged him, briefly, before everyone arrived, drawing him to recoil in a defensive manner. The serval could remember that, and yet, couldn't see the way by which it had gone wrong.
But, he must have done something, right? He didn't lose people, out of coincidence - it was always because he managed to do something.. It was always because he managed to mess something up, somehow. It was how he had lost his family, after all. It was why Cherviltea and Tama couldn't remember him, anymore. It was how he had become this way, and become contracted to Demios: because he had messed up. And, it had taken him a little while to mess up, again, but it seemed as if he had done as such, when it had come to Vol.. Yet, he couldn't determine as to why, or how.
Anyhow, upon noting Vol nearby, such thoughts had begun to skirt the forefront of his skull. It was at this point in time, that he drew to a halt, parallel to the other - to his friend, whom had abruptly come to detest him, for the reason that he couldn't yet manage to pin. "Yo, Vol." He'd greet, offering the other a heedless grin - was it fake? Probably. Just for now. Because, buried beneath, were the harrowing concerns.. The contemplative bemusement.. The frustration at being incapable of identifying the reason.. And yet, he'd throw up a guise, as he usually did - perhaps that was worse, however. He had experienced the fact that his little masks tended to hurt the people around him, a lot more than himself, at times.
-
[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]/ track until night's part ofc
-
[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]SCREAMING INSIDE
The other said he sought to talk to him.. in the most cordial, and clear manner that he could have possibly imagined, truly. After all, Vol had spoken to him with venom brimming his voice, for the most part, as of recent - at least in regards to Nighttales, anyhow. Therefore, he could only assume for this to perhaps be.. something in regards to politics, perhaps? Who knew, honestly. Nighttales was usually rather talented, in making assumptions based on the subtle details engraved into a situation, and yet this time around, he couldn't quite have come to guess as to what was coming.
Therefore, as the other spoke: he listened. Nighttales listened, and clung to every word, thinking through each phrase as it left Vol's lips, with his mind spiraling off into several directions at once, trying to make guesses towards what was coming, trying to determine as to whether the other was going to tell him what he had done wrong, or perhaps, what they wished to do, from this point onwards.. Simple tidbits of his mind were rolling off to different conclusions, incapable of coming to one particular possibility that happened to stand out the most.
Had the other been acting childish, lately? Nighttales could suppose so, in some ways - but, if he had done something wrong, then that behaviour was warranted, no? After all, Nighttales wouldn't complain about their response, if he knew that he had been the cause of such. Perhaps, he had acted childish, first? He didn't know. He still couldn't quite figure it out. As he had thought before, and always, however.. He wouldn't hold it against Vol. He wouldn't hold their behaviour against him, because Night couldn't quite manage that - Vol was his friend, and one of his closest ones at that.. And he couldn't say that anything that they did, was something that Nighttales would ever hold a grudge against them for.
"Nighttales.. Nighttales I love you."
Words striking him surprise weren't ones that happened to show up often. This was one of those uncanny incidents, where he found his mismatched orbs widening, brisk shock skirting his countenance. He wasn't sure how to react, for once. He wasn't sure what to say, for once. He had no preparations to respond. He was left open, exposed, and unprepared, almost as if every single mask he had clad himself in, had flaked away, dwindling towards the ground in several limpid flecks. How did he feel, about Vol? Love? No.. A fancy? No.. Confusion..? Not anymore.. Anger? Not at all. Disgust? Not a chance.
What he felt about his comrade, it wasn't love. Or, well, perhaps it were: but not in the same way.. Not in the way that he loved his fiancee. He didn't love his friend romantically. He loved him, as a friend. Of course he did. Vol was one of those closest to him, after all. Nighttales cared for Vol. He got concerned when they were troubled. He got confused when they were angry at him. He laughed when they did, and he was happy, when they were.. He was grateful to them, too: for being around, and for being who they were, and doing what they did. He liked being around them. He really did treasure their company, but he.. didn't love Vol in that way.
"I.." The serval paused, such a word skirting his jaws before he had fully contemplated what he was planning on saying. It was almost as if several doubts, tangled his mind, whilst several reactions played by the forefront of his skull at once. It was as if he wished to say so many things, but couldn't find himself able to say any of them at all. Best begin with the basics, right? What he was.. sure of.. What he had to be sure of. Nighttales was particularly good at lying, but he wouldn't lie to Vol. He wouldn't lie to his comrade: especially not after what they had said.
He withdrew a steady breath, before responding. "I'm sorry, Vol.. I don't love you in that way." Nighttales would resound, steadily. "I love Spectre." He really did, and whilst it might've seemed as if he was simply rubbing salt in his friend's wounds, he had to be sure. He had to be honest. Vol deserved to know everything: to be told everything. Just as he had told Nighttales, now. "I know this is going to sound selfish, but I do care about you. I love having you around. I appreciate your company more than anything, too. I do love you, but as a friend." He felt shitty for saying that. For saying that he cared, whilst turning them down.. Whilst telling them that he didn't love them back. But, he couldn't have lied to them. It wasn't to save himself, or to save Spectre: but, it wouldn't have been better, if he had lied to Vol.
-
[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]"Oh, you're Jessie's kid, right?" Nighttales would inquire, making a blind guess - well, not blind precisely, he could see where the traits happened to align with relative ease, and they had seemingly been in Colouredclan for quite some time now. Naturally, the appearance of a new child, at the same time as the deflation of a pregnant lady's stomach, happened to automatically suggest something, right? Only.. It hadn't been Jessie whom had carried the children: it had been Spectralregalia. Yet, Jessie had brought them back, hadn't she? Anyhow, Nighttales drew to a halt beside Spec, seating himself beside his fiancee, before raising a forepaw and offering a blithe wave. "I'm Nighttales Xerses, and this here is Spectre." He'd add, pivoting his semi-translucent paw to gesture towards the kitsune.
-
[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]There was a brisk smile that traversed the other's male, before she had sunken to a fallen position, such drawing Night's pace to quicken, before he managed to skid to a halt, before the other individual, several flecks of alabaster snow shifting as he halted. "Hey, are you alright?" The serval would inquire, fictional brows furrowing in concerned manner - yes, it was rather evident that she was, in no means, alright. However, he wished to determine whether she was still.. awake, so to say. That, and to let her know that there were people here: people to help, he supposed. He'd conjure a rabbit, and water resting in the shell of a previously-empty bowl, alongside that of a blanket: for if she were awake, she would need to eat, and to drink, and under all circumstances, keep warm. In the meantime, they'd likely be able to reach Cottoncandypaw, Imo, or even Sarangerel.
-
[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]Did Nighttales miss many people? Yeah, he did. Such was a simple, and certain fact. There were various people whom had transitioned out of his life, a long while ago, or rather recently. There were some deaths he could blame himself for, and some disappearances that he could also likely pin to himself.. There were some that he couldn't, too. There were many.. There were many, but never too many - after all, life continued to toss curve balls at every given chance it managed to grasp, right? There was nothing that any of them could do about it, unfortunately. Such was an evident fact, accepted by him, but never quite forgiven, either.
"You know Morty, if you tug at that a little too tightly, you're gonna choke yourself." Nighttales would resound. Perhaps, that was what they wanted? Nighttales couldn't quite say that he could relate, precisely. Not to wanting to commit suicide. He could recall that, after taking his mother's life, he had wanted to remove himself - but not merely because he loathed himself, or his life, or what he had done. Such would've been too simple of a way out, for him. The abyss would swallow him up, and he would become nothing: yet, his impact would remain.. That Candyfangs was dead, due to his actions. Seeking a way of erasing that: of wanting to erase himself, completely, from before he had managed to kill her - perhaps before he had been born, too. He'd.. have liked to have done that. To have become nothing: properly nothing. To essentially turn back time.
But there were reasons as to why he didn't search for that, any longer.. And when it came to those he actually cared about, such as Morty, he hoped that they wouldn't seek for something similar, too.
-
[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]"You can wait for as long as you want, you won't get any deals from a Colouredclanner." After all, were anyone to take up a deal with the Cartel, the serval would refuse to regard them as a member of the clan for any-longer. The Cartel had been declared as an enemy recently, after all, no? Perhaps, Bill Cipher hadn't yet caught onto such. "Unless, you can hand us Betty. She's one of yours." Nighttales was still in no eager mood to make a deal with Bill, but he was rather curious as to whether Betty was protected by even that of the Cartelian leader, and not merely her band of misfit-comrades. They'd get her. They'd get her, soon enough. The Cartel weren't going to writhe free of the child that they had murdered, and therefore, the conflict they had committed themselves to. "Otherwise, you might wanna piss off."
-
[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]/ FUCK TRACK I'LL RESPOND TO THIS WHEN I HAVE THE MUSE MAN
-
[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]Alejandro? They had led Boneclan at some point in time, hadn't they? Such was how the serval managed to recall them, with relative ease. He doubted that they had properly met, however. Actually, to this point, he wasn't sure as to whether his knowledge of them was derived purely from mere research, or not. After all, it was rather profoundly important to have done quite the background check on that of an ally - for the sake of security, and out of respect. Anyhow, Nighttales drew to a halt beside Papika, finding it rather peculiar that Ale had sought to join Shadowclan instead, but again, he understood the will to move - not anymore, but from before he had joined Colouredclan.. Wandering had been a common option, for a myriad of reasons. Anyhow, he'd allow a blithe grin to illuminate his jaws, whilst offering Alejandro a nod. "Thanks for the gifts, they're certainly appreciated." He paused for a moment, before figuring that he'd mention something else. "How's Shadowclan faring, by the way?"
-
[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]"Can't say I know what it's like to be pregnant, but I understand enough to refrain from making the fat jokes." Nighttales would add, drawing to a halt beside his apprentice upon approach. A blithe grin would illuminate his jaws, before he'd proceed to congratulate Chica with a prompt nod. "Congrats, though. I have a feeling that you'll make a good parent." He didn't happen to know much about Chica, personally, but she happened to give him that essence of an impression, in regards to motherhood.. Though, who knew, right?
A part of his thoughts tended to wander during moments such as these, however. He had never been the type to wish to settle down with family - not after how his previous one had concluding, during his childhood. However.. There were people whom he could certainly regard as family here, and he did already happen to have children, whom he loved dearly, and happened to be unfathomably proud of. However, he also considered the fact that perhaps.. it would be an option for himself, and his fiancee, to raise children? He hadn't asked her opinion on such yet, though.
-
[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]"Papika, I'm really surprised that you haven't caught a cold yet." The serval would resound, aiming to conjure a thick, woolen-towel of sorts, before wrapping it around the child's quivering frame. A brief sigh skimmed his parted jaws, and he'd eventually attempt to rest his chin upon Papika's head whilst ensuring that she was warm enough to refrain from colliding with some nasty flu bug, given her prompt plunge into the water's shallow, though significantly chilled depths. His heterochromatic orbs would then rise, settling on Nefariouskit instead. "That was pretty neat, Nefariouskit. I'm sure you'll get the hang of it eventually." The serval would assure the other, offering a blithe grin in the meanwhile. "Though, you don't feel as if you have any side-effects, do you?" After all, powers could often come coupled neatly with a well-concealed price: Nighttales had plenty of experience with such.
-
[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]"When it comes to USD, I'm not too sure, but I'll go to any extent of scavenging for paper money, so long as you hand her over." Paying with that was easy - he didn't mind as such. In all honesty, he was somewhat surprised that Bill would be so quick and seamless to hand over one of his own.. But, hey, perhaps it was uncultured of Nighttales to take such as quite the surprise: Bill Cipher was quite a nasty one, after all. They truly were in it for the money. Perhaps, the serval couldn't blame him: he didn't find disgust in their actions, especially considering that it could possibly work in his favour. Nighttales, however, quite evidently, wouldn't hand over one of his own, under any given circumstance. Those who were sent away, were to be exiled - not traded.
/ sounds neat!
-
[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]Ah well, Vol had already managed at least 8USD, so the following five wouldn't be a problem. "Just give her to us real soon, alright?" The serval would resound with a hum, setting a few crumpled, jade papers atop that of Vol's various bills. Of course, Nighttales wouldn't fully trust the fact that everyone in the Cartel would be in agreement to say a quick farewell to on of their members, but hey, Bill had made the decision, and they'd listen to their leader, no? Either way - 13USD was nothing off of their backs. Perhaps, if everyone would deal in the same currency, it would be, but barely anyone happened to utilise the concept of currency, anymore.
-
[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]The serval emerged briefly from his den, lithe frame shifting by that of his doorframe, shoulders shifting as the light illuminated his silhouette, and his heterochromatic orbs settled on the rather blinding light protruding from several sheets of cloud. It was then, that he had paused. He had paused for a moment, mismatched orbs gradually shifting towards that of the three individuals gathered, presently, seemingly silenced by.. something. Something that was obvious, and yet, perhaps something had restrained him from picking up on it, immediately. Perhaps, it had been that suspension of belief - it had been the way by which his mind had skimmed the possibility, but decided against it. And yet, logic would always eventually overcome that initial shock, wouldn't it?
His jaws sundered, briefly, throat tightening, whilst his chest churned, lungs willing him to say something, but instead, he was left with nothing to say at all. Heterochromatic orbs loitered on the body by his home, widening gradually, as the bloodcurdling image of his son, with their wires and gears upturned and torn from their body. It drew his insides to tighten, twist, and churn in his vessel, as if his organs were shifting over one-another in a nauseating manner, writhing objection festering within, yet refraining from becoming evident upon his expression. In fact, the brief expression which skirted his countenance seemed rather.. quiet. Uncannily so. He didn't feel no need to scream out in denial, or curse in frustration - all he felt was the slow hollowing, which the scene drew, as it nestled itself within his memory. Images like these were familiar, but such didn't mean that he could, by any chance, disregard the demise of his son.
Why had it happened? That was the thing. So many deaths always had reasons, which people were often unfamiliar to - and would remain unfamiliar to, for quite some time. It was possible, that Nighttales would never quite know. If anything, it almost looked as if his child had frantically torn their own insides, out, and such was not something that he wanted to consider.. And yet, knew that it was a possibility that skirted his scattered thoughts. Okami, was dead. His son, was dead. Such was all that he knew, thus-far, but he didn't focus on the unknown. Dealing with such would come after dealing with the demise, after all, and that wasn't something that he had yet managed to adjust to. Whilst he kept it bottled well within, underneath a guise that thickened like pasted oil over his cracking mannerisms, several emotions of melancholy, remorse, guilt, and frustration, riled within, and burned everything as such.
Nighttales would take a few steadied steps forwards, though barely took a breath in the meantime - the oxygen had been drawn slowly from his lungs, and yet, he felt no real desperate need to breathe. He was suffocating, anyhow. This was all suffocating. The hollowed emotion and the initial shock: it was suffocating. The fact that his son was dead had clutched his insides, balling them up into a condensed sphere, tangling his innards and allowing them to simmer in the slow, and accumulating pain.
He wouldn't say a word. Not a single phrase breezed by his sundered jaws. Instead, he'd draw to a halt by his son's corpse, before aiming to lift the limp body of his child, and bring him inside, slamming the door to a conclusive close behind him.
-
[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]A part of him would attempt to recall as to what that was like: when the very chirping of the birds around him could sound like the grandest of melodies, and the flowers, despite their delicate frames, presented themselves like masterpieces of ornate grandeur. He wasn't much of a downer - not for the most part, anyhow. He hadn't been, since he had still been a kid. He hadn't been this hollow, since back then. Yet, he felt it. He felt how the colours swathed around him, despite the slow budding of spring, took no interest from him. His heterochromatic orbs would barely skim the surroundings - they remained pinned elsewhere, or to the ground, otherwise. After Okami's recent demise, he couldn't say that the world seemed s joyous as it truly was, at the moment.
He'd 'get over it' - everyone did. Apparently, he was particularly good at that. At the moment, however? At the moment, he wasn't too sure. For the time-being, however, he could place a guise upon his features - a blithe grin which was meticulously graced upon his jaws. Yet, it wasn't the presentation of the mask that counted, for the most part. Instead, it was the ability to blending a mask with ones true demeanour - until the prior emotions, the real ones, were suppressed, and violently squashed beneath the weight of an artificially pieced-together countenance. It just.. worked. There was nothing wrong with it.
"Pretty flower, hm?" The serval would resound, briefly, heterochromatic orbs shifting towards the other individual, whilst they admired the flower upon Colouredclan's territory. "Mind if I have your name and business here, though?" Nighttales proceeded to inquire, seeing as such was the usual question one would naturally find themselves sporting.
-
[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]Nighttales could understand that, he supposed - the natural lull of freedom, perhaps. Though, not at the moment. He felt no inclination to wander, and to abandon those whom he happened to care about, now. Instead, he had become quite the responsible man (hopefully), and yet.. He understood, that such provided itself with various forms of backlash. The more attached one was, the more it happened to sting, when something was lost. Such was what had happened to Okami, as of late, and whilst it still weighed down on Nighttales' chest, he'd attempt to at least act as if he could pull himself together, instead. "Well, looks like Pixel's gone." It was a shame, and he'd miss having her around, but he could understand and support her wishes, instead. "I just hope she takes care of herself." Night would resound with an additional hum, whilst sinking further into his own thoughts.
-
[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]"Mhm, she'll definitely be around." Nighttales would add, drawing to a halt beside Naferiouskit, and sporting a rather heedless grin. Given the context of recent events, he couldn't say that his attitude was as naturally blithe as it usually were - but he had become rather well-suited to donning himself in masks, and there was nothing wrong with that. Anyhow, he too was curious in regards to what the other wished to speak to Chica about, and he'd proceed to simply quirk a fictional brow in such subtly piqued interest.
-
[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]"Hm, what're you reading, Nefariouskit?" The serval would inquire, arriving shortly upon hearing the eventual thud of the book against the ground, alongside that of the child in their seated stance. He'd pause for a moment, heterochromatic orbs briefly skimming the book's exposed pages. Horns, huh? His gaze would briskly pivot towards Nefariouskit, noting the brief brush of their paw against their own horns. Perhaps, they immediately believed that horns were suited with that of demonic nature? Perhaps.. Nighttales had horns himself, though he wouldn't wish to go into the topic as to whether he was a demon, or not. Therefore, he'd simply settle for asking one question at a time, for now.
-
[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]Nighttales would usually come to say that he didn't enjoy making deals with the devil himself - but hey, he was gradually getting used to it. Contracts: not like these. His one to his chain, perhaps. However, deals such as these ones, weren't too bad, either. They had paid Bill the money - something that the other evidently cared about. Perhaps, such would be the only aspect he'd ever find remotely 'likeable' about Bill: because their desires were straightforward, and easy to read, when it came to money. As to what they were hoarding for the sake of? Nighttales had no idea, but such wasn't the most prominent of topics on his mind, at the moment.
"Thank you, Bill." The serval would allow a hum to skim his sundered jaws, as they were gradually tugged into that of a heedless grin, and he'd eventually extend a forepaw, aiming to snatch Betty by the jugular in a rather swift maneuver, before attempting to kick out her limbs from beneath her. "It's great to finally get around with meeting you, Betty. It's rather rude of you to have abstained from introducing yourself to the clan whom you've taken from, no?"