[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]"I think this adds up to more than skipping out on just breakfast." The serval would add, drawing to a halt beside Mid and Retrokit. Breakfast? Well: such was a solid guess, he might suppose. After all, some could appear rather ghastly without consuming anything from breakfast, and well, he supposed that he was relieved that the kid was already pinned on looking after themselves in the simplest ways. Anyhow, his heterochromatic orbs would shift towards Joshua: someone whom he had seen less of, though likely due to his evidently jaded demeanour. Though, anyhow, he supposed he'd wait until Joshua sought to explain what was perhaps up.. Yet, Night was already considering the idea of tugging a medic over sometime soon.
Posts by NIGHTTALES XERSES
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[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]It wasn't as if he saw himself as being particularly close to Eclipsecub, but they were one of the children in the clan. They were one of the kids who lived here, and Nighttales had seen enough of them dying, already. Aleks had been taken and slain by that Cartelian - only for her to have the rug tugged from beneath her paws, of course - and Okami.. His son had already passed, though the reason didn't present itself in as much clarity as Aleks' demise eventually had. Though, it took time. It would take time, to discover as such, but Nighttales found himself gradually whittling away into something a little more hollow, the more he happened to dwell on the demise of his son.
Thus, when he had noted the absence of Eclipsecub for a few hours, the previous day: well, he wasn't a pedantic individual, under any circumstances, and he supposed that they were likely with Vol. However, after a two days had slugged by, with Eclipsecub still being nowhere to be seen. Such was why the serval had briefly opted to pass by their den, whilst on a contemplative stroll, only to find that they were absent, even from there, and that they had been for quite some time..
Such tugged him to leave camp, tracing the fading scent, as it thinned into a delicate tendril of the other's loitering presence, an indication that they had navigated their way through here, beforehand, at some point. Yet, whilst the smell had been gradually dispersing in the crisp air, he noticed a point by which it seemed to immediately drop off - as if into the river. It had been halted, abruptly, and such drew the serval's mismatched orbs to widen, and for an amply harrowed expression to skim his features. His fictional brows would furrow, and he'd allow his attention to cling to the water's limpid surface. Surely.. Surely they hadn't drowned, had they?
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[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]Nice, and good, huh? Nighttales didn't know about that. He didn't trust those who simply looked nice, or displayed generous characteristics. Not at all. However, he didn't distrust them, either. He wasn't inclined to shut himself away from absolutely everyone, due to their surface-characteristics. After all, individuals could be rather cryptic, when it came to what emotions and gestures they tended to shed, in comparison to that of the contents. Though, Nighttales didn't place his trust in many: only those whom he had known for quite some time. That didn't mean that he was going to flip from one extreme to another: he wasn't a pedantic guy.
"Ah, you're one of those hypocrites, hm?" Such wasn't something that he'd often say. He understood religion, and he understood the appeal. He wouldn't have allowed something idle, such as that, to have slipped his parted jaws on a regular basis. However, after the recent death of his son, his words were perhaps uncanny. God? Religion? He wanted to laugh at it all, just as he had when he had been a kid - believing that his problems were the only ones in the world. The difference was, that he now knew very-well of the fact that his problems, weren't the only ones. He could pull himself together, easily, knowing as such.
"Nah, I'm just kidding with you. I suppose I can respect a man who chooses to believe in god, during such trying times." Night would add, in a somewhat blithe manner. 'Trying times', he'd say, as if things were a lot different now, than they had been before, or would be in the future. Life was just as it always was, and always would be, and that wasn't always a particularly bad thing. Anyhow, his mind was crawling off into that of a tangent, and so he'd tug himself back to the present conversation, supposing he'd wait until the other resounded with their name and the likes.
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[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]Had he met this individual before? Nighttales doubted it. He usually prided himself in the clarity of his recollections, but Avenue's features were not ones that he could easily pin in his thoughts. Anyhow, he drew to a halt beside Akutagawa, heterochromatic briefly skirting the other's onyx form, noting the fact that they were still somewhat drained even now, which drew a tinge of concern from the serval. However, he'd return his heterochromatic orbs to the returning individual, opting to greet them with a blithe grin - perhaps somewhat forced, though such was noticeable, and such certainly wasn't due to anything she had done, or not done, either. It was a once in a while thing, he supposed, given recent events. "Welcome back, then. I'm Nighttales Xerses. Let me know if you have any questions or concerns, alright?"
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[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]"Woah, since when did Eclipsecub know French?" The serval would blink, whilst a rather heedless grin would dart across his maw. Perhaps, such was the most genuinely amused smile which had traversed his countenance, since Okami's demise - it wasn't as if it had been a strenuously long while since such, but he felt as if it had been. Days and nights seemed to trudge by at a rather slow pace, after all. Anyhow, he'd pivot his heterochromatic orbs towards Ben. "Who is it you need, Ben?" He'd inquire, somewhat curious in regards to such.
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[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]/ i just finished typing up a massive oneshot only for everything to fucking die and for me to fucking lose it so fucking bye bye long post haha never trying that fucking shit again i'm so fuCKING MAD
Nighttales didn't get it. Even as he allowed the softened, upturned soil, to sift over his son's dead body, firmly clasping their vessel in the ground.. Nighttales still couldn't get it. There had to have been something. There had to have been a reason leading up to it. A suicide. It wasn't something that someone picked, out of the blue - it was a choice that ate away at someone. It ate away at them, because it was tempting - perhaps somewhat frightening, for a while. But, once one comes to terms with the idea, it's a little easier.. It's a little easier, to let everything go. It's a little easier, to erase oneself. It's a little easier, to trade-off the idea of being able to think, for a lack of pain, or a lack of stress, or a lack of sorrow, or of guilt and remorse.
He should've noticed it. There must have been hints: well-hidden, but hints, nevertheless. There must have been.. But, he hadn't noticed, had he? Nighttales hadn't seen it, had he? Just as how he hadn't recognised Vol's feelings.. Just as how he hadn't realised he had been hurting Spectre, through keeping secrets from her for so long.. Yet, had he remained blind? Nighttales was supposed to be rather talented, at picking up on things - studying was his forte, after all. Yet, it.. hadn't worked, this time. It hadn't worked. He was now caught in a loop, of realising that his ability to pick up on things had ensnared him in several other agendas, instead of the expressions of his son.
'Oh, still trying to figure something out?'
Shut up.
'Hey, it's not as if I'm blaming you.'
Shut up.
'It's not like you did anything.'
Demios..
'Though, I guess that's the point.. You didn't do anything. Your son had to take his own life, before you noticed that something was up, right?'
Nighttales wouldn't object to that.
'I hate you.'
'Are you sure that it's me you hate?'
'Fuck off.'
Why was she right? Why was she asking all of the correct questions? Why was she getting to know him well enough to comprehend that she wasn't whom he happened to hate: after all, she was merely hammering the nail in the coffin, no? He knew it, already. He knew that, when it boiled down to it, it really was his fault. It was his fault, for letting it go unnoticed. It was his fault, that Okami had taken his own life. Perhaps, not directly. Nighttales hadn't driven a knife into their stomach, and gouged the gears from their body, after all. Yet, he had a feeling that he might as well have.. Or no. It was.. a little different. It was the knowledge that he was at fault, and the knowledge that he wasn't involved - and the knowledge that he should've been involved, because only then, would he have been able to have prevented this.
Nighttales felt that remorse coil itself around his throat. But even then, that was him focusing on himself: on his own guilt. When it came down to it, all he wanted was his son back. All he wanted was to somehow gain the chance to see his kid again - to bring him back. Sure, the family he had ruined before, had returned, in some-way or another. Perhaps a little more broken than before, but at peace in their own separate ways.. He couldn't blindly believe that the same would occur, with Okami. He didn't have the audacity to make such a ridiculous assumption, as if to save himself from the pain.
The serval could barely breath. A part of him didn't want to. And yet, the sharp burn of crisp air cleaving his lungs, was perhaps comforting, in comparison to all else that could be felt within. It was all hollow, and yet, festering with simmering anger, blatant denial, pathetic bargaining, malice, and the slow ache of melancholy. It was as if someone had driven a knife between his ribs, and twisted it, until his insides screamed in desperate protest, whilst he'd accept the anguish as they churned.
He'd be alright. He'd be alright. He'd be fine. He was always fine. It always ended up.. just fine. Whether he was the one whom always deserved to be fine, was a different story. He wasn't dead, but what he would do to take the place of his son was unfathomable, at this point in time. Nighttales would take it, now, willingly - not because of self-loathing, or pity, but because his son hadn't needed to die. His son hadn't done anything deserving of his eventual demise.. Because his son's life had meant much more to him, than his own. Because Nighttales felt as if he'd refuse to live with himself, if there was some opportunity to switch places with his son, that he hadn't taken.
It was at this point in time, that he would tuck one, singular white flower, against his son's grave, heterochromatic orbs skirting the ground. He felt tears burn his eyes, pressing against the back of each socket - though refraining from displaying, and instead, loitering in his skull as a dull, sorrowful ache. All he wanted to do was scream - but that wasn't him. He knew that he'd have to pull himself together. That he wasn't the victim here. That he'd have to hold everything together for now, and that he wasn't the one who deserved to wallow in his own self-loathing. A part of him itched to do something, and another part of him was tired from it all, too. Jaded. It was a jaded pit of emotion that he had grown too lethargic to scramble his way out of, again.
Nighttales would drown it out eventually. He'd move forwards, eventually, even if he didn't deserve to. Okami was supposed to be alive. Okami was supposed to be alive, and Nighttales knew it. This.. It was all a loop. It was all a loop, and he detested that circular-stream of thought, that acted as if it knew where it was going, but represented an un-moving pit, instead.
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[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]"You brought that entire cake, just for Eclipse?" Nighttales would resound with a blithe chuckle. "They really are spoiled when it comes to food." After all, Vol happened to feed them corndogs left and right, and now the Thunderclan leader had prepared them an entire cake? Well, he supposed that.. As long as it made them happy, right? "Anyhow, thanks for the gifts, Ben." The serval paused for a moment, resounding with a rather contemplative hum. "Hmm, say, would you be up for continuing that discussion on alliances?" After all, Thunderclan had agreed to their part of the deal: when it had come to reaching out and delivering gifts frequently, especially - if anything, Nighttales was beginning to believe that they saw more of their neutral than most of their allies.
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[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]Colouredclan wasn't truly a cut-out evil clan. They were an anticlan, sure, but they weren't going to torture children, and Nighttales personally wouldn't allow rape, either. They were tough, but they had their rules - hopefully, the same went for most other anticlans, but he knew very well of the fact that there were many whom tended to branch out of those restraints. Anyhow, the serval drew to a halt by the others, a blithe grin illuminating his jaws, as he'd opt to greet the other with a momentary nod. "You know, I don't often come across tigers with a taste for vegetation." Quite obviously, such was rather uncommon, and seeing a tiger tug some leaf from its stalk had been quite the uncanny spectacle, for a moment.
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[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]"Indeed, careful around those flames, alright?" Nighttales would add, noting the curious manner by which Twist would focus on the flames. Nefariouskit seemed rather.. antsy, instead - anxious, but completely still. It wasn't long until Hikari managed to attempt to tug his attention from the flames, which was somewhat of a relief. After all, Night couldn't quite say precisely as to what the issue was: and yet, if he were to make an assumption based upon the current surroundings, the conclusion was rather obvious. They didn't really enjoy the fire, did they? Nighttales wasn't sure as to whether it was a phobia, or some sort of memory associated with the embers - he wouldn't pry, either; not now, anyway.
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[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]The sound of a tremendous thud had taken the serval by brief surprise, drawing him to raise his fictional brows, whilst he'd eventually pivot, making his way towards the sound. Weaving through the curling fronds, he'd draw to a halt beside CC, whilst noting the manner by which Daichi awkwardly shrugged the log off of his back, and sought to continue tending to his saplings. "He shrugs off a log as if it's nothing. I think he'll be alright." Nighttales would resound with a brief chuckle, before shifting his mismatched orbs towards Daichi. "Though, if you feel like that might've snapped your spine or something, consulting Cc is always a good idea. Otherwise, that was pretty funny." As long as nobody had been hurt, a joke could remain as a joke, and it didn't seem as if Daichi had taken much pain from the log: besides the crippling embarrassment that he was trying to avoid, by focusing on his plants instead.
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[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]It was then, that a pillow was swung into the air, and came spiraling towards the serval. He'd raise a fore-paw, aiming to bop it briefly upwards as it soared for his face, and allowing it to graze his forehead instead. "What is this, some kind of chain reaction?" Nighttales would resound with a blithe chuckle - perhaps, a lot more content than he had been, before. Though, he hadn't so much as noticed. Instead, he picked up a pillow of his own, before aiming to throw it in.. any given direction, really. He had a feeling that it'd end up hitting someone, after all.. And he was pretty sure that Spectre would kill him if he threw a pillow at Papika, and accidentally managed to knock her out - he doubted it'd happen, but.. In situations such as these, he always found his fiancee looming over his shoulder in some way or form.
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[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]"Yo, Imo." The serval would resound, greeting the other, whilst proceeding to open his door. He paused for a moment, heterochromatic orbs lingering on the nurse - sure, he had a few things to sort, but he could in no way call someone a nuisance for wishing to speak to him on some form of dire grounds, especially if such was exceedingly important to that of the medical branch. He could understand as such, after all, the predicament in which Cottoncandypaw and Imo were both in was in no means a comfortable one, for either of them.
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[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]"Hmm?" Battle training, huh? That could be of use. Whilst Nighttales was quite well aware that the skills of his own, and those of most around him, were finely honed: he would in no way justify blinding himself to the fact that, surely, there would be improvements required somewhere within himself. Or no: that was slightly to great of a stance to take, after all, there were evidently quite an ample amount of improvements required when it came to his own self - not because he loathed himself, but he knew very well that he could have a rather toxic personality from time to time. No, but when it came to his skill as a combatant, there would always be gaps: slim, and difficult to pinpoint, as of now, as time had passed, but they were present, and once found, they could be dug into, and widen, like a cut being gradually expanded into that of an obtrusive gash.
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[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]"Oh, Ev again. Yo." The serval would resound with a greeting, drawing to a halt beside Derrick, and settling himself beside his comrade - or somewhat of a comrade. In all honesty, this whole issue of distrust but conflicting concern and care he had for the other had become an old gag. Sure, he couldn't easily trust Derrick, but when Aleks had died, it had hurt for him, too. It was odd.. And the serval wouldn't dive into the details often, anymore: he was fine with defining the other as a friend. It was the best means of doing so, after all.
"Thanks for the gifts; they're much appreciated." Nighttales would resound with a blithe hum, before his heterochromatic orbs would shift towards the inviting, aromatic scent drifting from the basket. "Everything looks rather cosy." He'd admit, for some reason: tea lanterns, herbs, blankets.. Such seemed to be immediately associated with cosiness.. Wow, what a tangent he had taken, whilst awaiting Ev's response to Derrick's inquiry.
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[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]"Papika.." Nighttales would resound with an airy sigh, drawing to a halt by Jessie and Retrokit. Though, Imo had likely begun it all, acting as the catalyst: Papika had taken it to an entirely different level, and there was almost no chance that Euph wouldn't possibly be disturbed by their presences. Anyhow, the serval would merely stifle another sigh, instead, allowing a small smile to illuminate his jaws: after all, then again, a part of him happened to doubt that Euph would be all too bothered. He wasn't the type to flip over such simple acts, all of which had meant well. "I don't think there's any hope of not disturbing him, anymore." Nighttales would admit, with a hushed tone - just in case his assumptions were slightly off.
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[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]Purity, huh? Once, Nighttales would have scoffed, and told the other that they could've done whatever they liked, had they been to tell him that. After all, what did 'purity' mean to someone like him? Even those he loved the most, were tainted, in some form or another, surely. Such had been the case for quite some time, and it had made things easy for him. He had worried, most certainly, but nobody was 'pure' enough to be incapable of protecting themselves. Nobody had been 'pure' enough to be at the mercy of another. He had been surrounded by strength, and he hadn't had to worry about such an aspect - the aspect of them being captured, and tortured, or killed.
Such was proven incorrect, soon enough. After all, children cropped up one by one. There were individuals such as Nefariouskit, Retrokit, and even Eclipsecub around, now. Even his own kids.. Papika - perhaps she wasn't his child, but she.. was a child of the clan, such was for certain. And then, there had been Okami.. There had been Okami, whom had been murdered - murdered at his own will, anyhow. It had been suicide, and for a while, Nighttales had been quite incapable of accepting such a fact. But it settled. It was a fact. It was undoubted. It was merciless, and it was final. He couldn't pitifully writhe against it, nor could he passively act as if anything had happened: perhaps on the surface, but not when it came to the foundation underneath.
There were others to protect, now. Derrick had also lost his son, recently. Nighttales didn't wish for it to become a pattern. Therefore, he had to accept that there were individuals he sought to protect: individuals he cared about, who could be considered 'pure', perhaps. He wouldn't call it that, though. If anything, using 'purity' to define a person seemed almost unsettlingly unrealistic, nowadays. Of course, he wouldn't blame anyone to jumping to that conclusion about anybody, after all, he wouldn't quite call Papika impure, but using the term 'pure'.. He didn't like that. He didn't want to objectify her, in such a way, that summarised every thought that traversed her mind. Papika was just Papika, and he loved her as if she were his own daughter.
Thus, was why he'd brutalise someone, if they were to attempt to hurt her. Though of course, the stranger's intentions would remain unbeknownst to him, for the time-being. Therefore, he'd refrain from voicing anything at all. Such thoughts were speculation: such thoughts weren't thoughts that had skimmed his mind, at that moment. Such thoughts, instead, were the thoughts that would have crossed his mind, had the other indicated towards their eventual, ulterior motive. Such was why Nighttales drew to a halt beside Morty, briefly, pivoting his heterochromatic orbs towards the stranger, and offering them a blithe grin - as he would with any.
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[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]As the other found a means of communication, Nighttales found himself blinking in slight surprise - though he couldn't say that Imo seemed like a sluggish learner, either, perhaps it was merely about time that they were to gradually be able to find a method of breaching that barrier. "Certainly." The serval would resound in response, offering them a nod. "Would you like me to pick allies, and introduce them to you, for you both? Or would you like to instead settle this between yourselves?" Either way, he couldn't say that he'd mind. "How many allies would you like to request the help of, too?"
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[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]"Graveclan, hm?" Nighttales would resound with a curious hum, drawing to a halt beside Euph. "Well, that sounds good to me. What other clans have you invited?" The serval would proceed to inquire, quirking a fictional brow - hopefully, they hadn't attempted to invite all of them at once, right? Either way, though, he saw no reason to refrain from accepting the invite. "Oh, and thanks for the gifts, by the way. I'm Nighttales Xerses, and it's a pleasure to meet you, Ailene." The serval sought to add, allowing a blithe grin to illuminate his jaws as he spoke.
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[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]Demons, huh? That was true: just about anyone was a demon. He wasn't. His onyx horns might have represented him differently, at towards someone of a 'demonic race', but he wasn't. Nighttales was just a contractor - and he wasn't even contracted to that of a demon. He was, instead, contracted to a chain - and well, those had gone out of style quite a while ago, it seemed. Sometime, back in Shadowclan, and also during Ichigo's first reign over Hawkclan, they had indeed been quite the rage. He could understand how that might've become a nuisance. After all, this world wasn't made to be populated with contractors. It didn't place himself above anyone else, either way. He was still mortal. He'd still die. Even if he didn't require sleep, or food, and couldn't get himself intoxicated, or catch diseases, due to Demios' influences - such didn't make him immortal. In fact, he did have an expiration date, and he was rather surprised that such wasn't looming, just yet.
Anyhow, the serval would draw to a prompt halt beside Morty, whilst a blithe chuckle would breeze by his parted jaws as he managed to overhear the stranger's string of dialogue. 'Sick peeps'. Such was certainly a way of putting it, he supposed. "No worries, we'll be gentle with you." He'd add in response, rather amused by Nedamir's manner of speech. "I'm Nighttales Xerses, by the way. I play piano." There were other secrets that he could perhaps reveal - but he kept his secrets tucked rather close to himself. "So, how about yourself, Nedamir?"
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[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]"Papika, watch you don't fall off." The serval would remind the child, whilst she leaned on the branch, peering curiously at the basket. He'd resound with an airy smile, though a blithe grin managed to tug at his maw, and he'd offer the Lithiumclanner a nod. "Thanks for the gifts." It had been a little while since he had heard of Lithiumclan, indeed, but not quite dreadfully long - he wasn't sure about the others, but he had come across Seija rather recently. Though, anyhow, he'd focus on the individual present, currently. "Hmm, what's your name, by the way?" Night would inquire, quirking a brow out of mere curiosity - after all, the central questions which had skimmed the forefront of his skull, had already been asked.