Posts by Apex.

[center][fancypost=bgcolor=;border: 0px solid white; width: 455px; text-align: justify; height: auto;font-size: 8pt; line-height: 122%; margin-top: -2px;]Apex crawls up, biting back a sigh. Long ago he very much liked sweets. It was strange to others, an assassin that had a sweet tooth, so he tended to hide it well. Only Jackdaw knew about his weakness on the topic of sugar, but now it's a lost cause. He can't taste anything sweet or anything at all really. All he can taste is rot and dirt no matter what he is trying to consume. The only thing that brings him sustenance and flavor is blood and since he arrived here, he's been aching for it savagely. Regardless, he won't hurt a clanmate even if he's still in his old routine of still not actually calling himself a Bloodclanner. He just lives in Bloodclan, like a lizard in a burrow that happens to be on their lands, or at least that's what he'd say. The lizard doesn't come out to help or congregate with these individuals so that excuse lessens in validity more and more each day. Sniffing at the cookie dough, he tries to recall the delicious tastes he so misses. He bites back a whine. Why did he come over here to torture himself? Ugh.

[center][fancypost=bgcolor=;border: 0px solid white; width: 455px; text-align: justify; height: auto;font-size: 8pt; line-height: 122%; margin-top: -2px;] The heat has only treated him more and more viciously throughout the day. At first he tried to ignore it and then he tried to accept and bear it and now he's hiding from it. There was no other choice as he was practically roasting out there, wings feeling raw and form weak from getting too hot. It's a shame really. His true form was made for the desert, born in the desert in fact, but there's no use moping on that because he's stuck in this one now. For how long though? How long does he have to suffer with this wretched body? Sighing, the feline wyvern walks along the hallowed halls of the dead, unable to see the tombs that surround him but he can definitely smell them. It's a dull stench due to the mummification, but he can smell it none-the-less. Apex skims his wings along the sides of ornate caskets, trying to get used to the dust and imagine what the inside of this place looks like. He's imagining something grand and much less busted up than it smells. Just let him have one nice thing.

He takes the little sticks he got from the Shadowclan gift basket and starts a small fire near where he thinks he'll settle. It barely aids his poor eyesight, but he can see well enough to spot a rod that was once used for a banner spouting from a column. Before he climbs up, Apex makes a circle around the fire with rocks so that it won't spread though there's not much on the floor for it to spread through. The wyvern climbs his way up the column then and though it's a slow process, he finally makes his way to the rod. It seems his guess for how he could sleep is correct. He hook his tail around the stone and hangs from it like a monkey would. After some shifting with his wings (folding them, crossing them, putting them at his side, letting them hang down, then finally huddling them against his chest), he settles down and listens to the soft fire.

Now alone and away from the bustle of others, he had expected to feel at peace yet it's only serving to show him why he returned to civilization at all anyway: loneliness and the fear of being alone with himself. He's liked being alone previously, but that was before his little break down and the carnage that followed. A simple revelation, but one that made his entire life's work not only a farce, but something that had made the lives of many others fraught with the tragedy of unnecessary death. At his claws, none-the-less. The loneliness in general comes not from being around a lot of individuals, but he's used to being around someone in particular. He traveled with Jackdaw for years, bonded with him, and even moved here initially because he wanted to be here with his parents. He hasn't seen Evangeline around though... where is she? As proud as he is of him, how did Jackie become leader? Why does he look so sad... The wyvern sighs again, shoving his face down into his wings and coughing. He needs to stop worrying about this now and get some sleep, but he's afraid that things might get worse if he does.

He can't just not sleep though... he has to... hmmm....

Snoring echos through the corridors, loud and echoing among the halls of the dead. It sounds almost like some sort of monster and his hanging shadow is cast on the walls ominously due to the fire. Just as quickly as "Dusty" has fallen asleep, the muscles in his tail relax and he slowly starts to slip down from the banister. He's not quite used to this whole roosting thing yet. By the time he realizes that he's slipping and jolts awake, he's hitting the ground with a loud clunk. "FUCK."

tldr;"Dusty" tried to go to roost in the burial pyramid and ended up falling

[center][fancypost=bgcolor=;border: 0px solid white; width: 455px; text-align: justify; height: auto;font-size: 8pt; line-height: 122%; margin-top: -2px;]There's not much he can do as far as fighting goes, but he'll be damned if he won't try. At the very least he can try to provide support for the others and maybe smack someone with his spiked tail. It aches his pained body, but he manages to skitter up a nearby tree and glide after from there.

[center][fancypost=bgcolor=;border: 0px solid white; width: 455px; text-align: justify; height: auto;font-size: 8pt; line-height: 122%; margin-top: -2px;]Apex crawls over, eyes moving dully over the crowd before him in a tracking post. Gift baskets? As demure as it is, maybe he could help out with that. Good with Scarclan, deaths, then... ah, what's up with this asshole? He bites his lip to keep from telling him to fuck off. Apex is a "new" Bloodclanner, he shouldn't care that much right off. He'll either just look like a kiss ass or quick to anger, which he doesn't want either of. He'll just see how Jackdaw handles himself, see how his previous apprentice has changed.

[center][fancypost=bgcolor=;border: 0px solid white; width: 455px; text-align: justify; height: auto;font-size: 8pt; line-height: 122%; margin-top: -2px;]Apex feels just a little bad considering he had been quick to leave after Leonardo seized up because of him. He hadn't meant to do it, but it doesn't change the fact that he did. So he's coming by to check on the male and after some extensive wandering around, he manages to catch his scent. The feline-like wyvern crawls his way to a grouping of rocks before he catches the blurry silhouette of the margay, but only because he heard his voice. "Envisioned? Is that you there, fortune teller?" He asks just to be certain that his brittle senses aren't fooling him as they tend to usually.

There's the sound of scratching as he clamors into view, eyes glowing a red color in the darkness that he blends into almost absolutely. Of course, he doesn't know that. He just knows that his eyes feel just a little less cloudy right now. "I... had not meant to cause harm earlier," he admits, wanting to get straight to the point. That's as close to a sorry as Leonardo is going to get now and will probably ever get. "No permanent damage, it seems." He's postulating of course. He can barely even see Leonardo's general outline, the blurring and darkness fatal to his comprehension of his environment. To accentuate that point, he finds himself almost dripping down into a crag and into the sands. Apex catches himself, sloppily, but he still does, trying not to get annoyed right off the bat. He's already feeling antsy (despite his calm exterior) by just trying to talk to someone one on one after so long, but he's managing so far.

[center][fancypost=bgcolor=;border: 0px solid white; width: 455px; text-align: justify; height: auto;font-size: 8pt; line-height: 122%; margin-top: -2px;]The wyvern approaches, crawling forward with tugs and a swish of his tail. It seems like the two clans have this more than taken care of, but he'll be here to help anyway under the Bloodclan sigil. He's in no health state for these activities, but he'll be damned if he's going to stay at home. Apex forces himself up onto his haunches, looking menacing for when and if anyone decides to come at him.

[center][fancypost=bgcolor=;border: 0px solid white; width: 455px; text-align: justify; height: auto;font-size: 8pt; line-height: 122%; margin-top: -2px;]Apex hadn't seen her before her change and he couldn't quite see her now. All he can see now is the spindly antlers coming from a blur of similar size to Jackdaw. From her words he gathers that it's a body change and he tries to contain his envy. If only his own transformation hadn't been so dramatic. "Congratulations...," he grunts out.

That is good with me <: And thank you

[center][fancypost=bgcolor=;border: 0px solid white; width: 455px; text-align: justify; height: auto;font-size: 8pt; line-height: 122%; margin-top: -2px;]Apex is not having a good night. Not only can he not seem to stay up in his roost and has had to curl up on an old dirty cloth, he's having nightmares. Nightmares are what got him this way in the first place and things changed slowly at first. It started with a simple black patch on his paw then a few spots disappearing as well as a few feathers then somehow it escalated into what he's currently become. He feels like the shrivel, plucked chicken corpse of his former self and that's not too far off the mark. Naturally, since he'd finally caught a glimpse of that sweet boy he'd abandoned, that's what his mind is most preoccupied with.

"You've got some balls to come up and say that to me... Some nerve to be so disrespectful!"

It's like a storm blooming through his mind, his aura crackling over him like a corrupt black fire. He coughs and rolls over, stretching out to try and beat the heat, but it's no good. He gets to squirming and whining but the corpses around here don't care. In his mind, he's in pitch blackness with only occasional bursts of light that blind him. In the distance he catches sight of Bloodclan's old territory in the split moment between the flash and darkness so he heads in that direction. As he runs, Apex begins to feel more and more weightless. It's like his legs have melted and he glides there, that's the sensation he feels anyway. All the while his own voice chases after him, always catching up with him no matter how fast he shoots forward like a dying star.

"Don't even think about asking me an idiotic question like that again. EVER. I don't want to go out with you. I never want to go out with you! I will never love or care about you outside of where we our now because your "love"-"

Just as he's almost there, just at the edge of the territory and he can feel the crunching of sand beneath him, he seals his own fate. How could he be so cruel to Jackdaw? How could he say that to his only friend.

"Is as worthless as the dirt beneath my feet!"

Triggered by the words, the ground gives way underneath him and implodes on itself. Simultaneously, his useless wings strip off of him like tattered rags caught in the wind. His fur follows afterward and all he can do is watch. There is no pain, only horror, as he sees tufts of black fur then the bones of his wings then... is that his skin? And last, an explosion of skeletal remains that are lost in the turbulent air above as he keeps plummeting down. Only a ball of light that has a black crack down it, his spiritual essence shed from underneath that physical doom and tomb is free for the night. It- he, hits the ground and back in reality his body loses complete consciousness and subconsciousness. His mind is free in the form of the little light as he springs from his body. The light hovers there for a time, looking down in disgust at this pathetic new form, before he abandons it in favor of shooting out of the pyramid. He moves fast now, truly like a falling star this time, and phases right through the other pyramid, into Jackdaw's room, and straight into whatever dream he is currently having.

[center][fancypost=bgcolor=;border: 0px solid white; width: 455px; text-align: justify; height: auto;font-size: 8pt; line-height: 122%; margin-top: -2px;]Ah, here it goes. The "fun" game of seeing people he will recognize while knowing there's no way to recognize him. He'd stayed in Fortinbras's estate once, but that's when he was a proud griffin and Third Tier of this clan. Now he's just a vagabond-like, cat-looking wyvern with nothing to his name but ache of the heart and bones. He remembers everything, but his pride keeps him silent. Tragic dramatics and melodrama aside, there is another thing he's kept- that grumpy ass face. Still, he can't help but smile just a little to see that this guy is still around. He's a hard worker after all, something Apex cannot denounce. Smart enough to travel when it's not scalding too. "Welcome. Who are you and what brings you to brave that sandy hellscape just to reach here?"

[center][fancypost=bgcolor=;border: 0px solid white; width: 455px; text-align: justify; height: auto;font-size: 8pt; line-height: 122%; margin-top: -2px;] @D.HELLFIRE

Apex wants to kick a baby deer in the face right now. Not because any fawn or adult deer has done anything specific to him, but because he's in such a bad mood that he just wants something cute and innocent to suffer with him. It's sadistic, he knows, and that's why he's not out doing something as weird as that. Plus, in his current state, even a baby deer could probably kick his ass. No, not probably, he knows it could. Shaking all of these weird thoughts, the wyvern forces himself up out of the sands, but it comes back. Do they even have deer here? What do they eat here? 'Dusty' looks around, squinting at nothing in particular. Oh yeah, there's a zero percent chance of him seeing any sort of prey even if it is there. He almost forgot for a second there about his terrible eyesight since he was lost in his own mind. It's no big concern for him anyway, blood from a simple beast would not satisfy him. He needs some from folk of the clans, just a sip, that's all he asks. Just a sip. Maybe from that new slave girl? He coughs and brings up a wing to wipe the sand from his cheek which makes his wings suddenly tinge with pain. He tries to move them again only to kiss. It seems that they're... sunburned? How can that be?

Wait... why had he been lying in the sands at all? 'Dusty' squeezes his eyes shut, shakes his disoriented feeling head, and opens them again. As he opens his mouth to take a breath, it becomes apparent. Sucking in the air is like shooting it down an old, dead pipe and he immediately coughs, choking on his cotton mouth. Seems he passed out looking for something to feed on. He didn't know he was that bad off, but it sort of explains the deer thoughts. "J-" He coughs. "Just great!" The wyvern calms his coughing after several seconds then starts the grueling crawl back toward camp just as the sun is setting.

[center][fancypost=bgcolor=;border: 0px solid white; width: 455px; text-align: justify; height: auto;font-size: 8pt; line-height: 122%; margin-top: -2px;]The vampire finds himself leaning back against a large rock in the shade of the afternoon. He's more inclined to come out at night now yet it has little to do with his vampirism. Until he finds a way to combat this blasted heat on his dark skin, he's going to have to be a nocturnal beast. Sighing, Apex squishes himself as close to the rock as he can, and he could look like part of it (due to his gnarled wings) if he weren't so dark. He sighs again, heavier, and pulls off of the rockface entirely. Just when he was getting comfortable, he had to think to himself: you really shouldn't be entirely useless. That's an easy thing to think, albeit insulting, but not so easy to do when he can barely see or get around. One probably couldn't guess about his sight at night as his gaze becomes awash with red, but he's just as half-blind as in the day. Silently 'Dusty' ponders where to go and what to do, but all his mind goes back to is the pyramids. Maybe he can try flying? It's a long shot as he's starved of blood, but he his stupid pride will not allow him anything less. If he can fly again, he can stay off of these suffocating sands and take advantage of the breeze. At the very least, he should learn to glide farther.

So he makes the trek back, but as he nears the pyramid of the dead, he hears something. It's a deep, guttural grunt that sounds familiar to him, but he can't quite place it. It's not until he here's the sopping of lips and a huff that he has a guess. A wild horse! Those things would roam the desert of his childhood, looking glorious and beautiful and full of blood. 'Dusty' knows that lesser beast blood won't satisfy him yet he's seduced by the hope that it will take off the edge. It's getting worse and worse everyday so any type of relief is welcome. He scans the desert soaked in moonlight and sure enough, he catches sight of a tall brown blur walking about in the sands. Luckily for him, it's just a leap away from the pyramid and so he quietly crawls up the side of it by using the crags and chips in the side as footing. Once he's high enough, he licks his lips, zones in on the walking blur, and leaps. No wind is there to catch his wings, but it's okay because he's close enough, but what he wasn't expecting was to be wrong.

It's a camel. A damn bloody camel! And he lands belly first on one of its humps. The air is knocked out of him and he wheezes hard, draped over the camel's back as it fearfully yells out and starts to run with his form flopped over it like an old drapery.

@HYPOKRISIS

I'm cool with that, I went ahead and made the thread too!

Dimitri's:
pizza soup is a thing; Dimitri

Hypo's:
we don't have to go out; Hypokrisis

[center][fancypost=bgcolor=;border: 0px solid white; width: 455px; text-align: justify; height: auto;font-size: 8pt; line-height: 122%; margin-top: -2px;]'Dusty's' mouth screws up at the corners ever so slightly as he hears Arabic followed by a very Arabic sounding name. He hasn't heard it in a long while despite it being his first language due to his mother and mentor and birthplace in general. English was his second and quickly became his go to. In fact, he studied and practiced so thoroughly and aggressively to please his teacher that he eventually eradicated his own accent. When he first came to Bloodclan, the only hint that he knew Arabic at all was the fact that it would pepper his sentences occasionally. Sure, he was also an Arabic Griffin, but not many were familiar with such. This time around, he hasn't spoken any of it at all. This body came along with a new voice, one that is not flattering to the Arabic tongue, and more importantly, he has no desire to hint Jackdaw off about himself. Even if he won't automatically assume his identity because of it, he may assume that he knows something of Apex just because of the rarity of the Middle Eastern around here. That's not a risk he's willing to take, not until he knows Leonardo and this pipsqueak can keep a secret. Damn it feels weird to think of himself in third-person. "Where did you get that one from?" He makes it sound like Leonardo found a trinket or something, but he can't quite help his lack of compassion for these sorts of things. It's just the way he was conditioned.

[center][fancypost=bgcolor=;border: 0px solid white; width: 455px; text-align: justify; height: auto;font-size: 8pt; line-height: 122%; margin-top: -2px;]Apex holds back a harsh scowl as he approaches. He wants to snatch Jackdaw up by his fur, slap him a few times, shake some sense into him. He doesn't know who this stranger is and he's not talking about the child grinning at the bodies. Yet "Dusty" only stands there and looks at the kid (the one he'd probably be silently cursing to if he had any clue that this Jackdaw's offspring, after the shock that is). Wincing some as he settles down with his aching bones, the wyvern looks over this fiery (literally) little boy. Indeed, where are his parents and how does Jackdaw know him? Along with his wonder, jealousy strikes. It's those wings... or at least he thinks those are wings. He can't see very well and so he can't see the cocky expression on Apollo's face either. But wings- how he misses having his wings separate from his arms and how he misses his arms actually being useful. He doesn't even want fancy wings like that, he just want his old natural ones back. He wants all of himself back.

Clearing his throat, the dark figure says simply, "Welcome Apollo."

[center][fancypost=bgcolor=;border: 0px solid white; width: 455px; text-align: justify; height: auto;font-size: 8pt; line-height: 122%; margin-top: -2px;]"You might want to change your prize pool," the wyvern says flatly but with a dash of humor as he makes his way over to the others, sounding a bit smug about it. Of course, he would totally go on a date with Dimitri- if he fed him. He would do a lot of things to get some precious blood right now. He's pretty sure that counts as some form of prostitution, but hey, he's not saying it aloud. Even if he agreed, he can't see the damn things to try to make the castles. His old self would have had a shit fit to even think of something jestingly. It must be true that humor is birthed from pain. And what could be more painful than trying to pull up this dastardly sand to form. "Wait- how are they supposed to keep form without water?" He's suddenly realized that he hasn't smelled any water around. Then again, they could always give it the good old "yellow snow" treatment.

[center][fancypost=bgcolor=;border: 0px solid white; width: 455px; text-align: justify; height: auto;font-size: 8pt; line-height: 122%; margin-top: -2px;]"Red." It's the only color worth giving a crap about really. Of course in this case, he's more a detriment to the red team, but as long as friendly fire isn't counted, it should all be okay. Apex can't say that he's really into games. He never was since he never really played them much as a kid, but he'll still give it a try. He was far too hesitant last time he went into clan life. Now he truly has nothing to lose so why not give it a go? Maybe he'll have something to gain through all this.

[center][fancypost=bgcolor=;border: 0px solid white; width: 455px; text-align: justify; height: auto;font-size: 8pt; line-height: 122%; margin-top: -2px;]Perhaps this is insta-karma for leaving Leonardo to spazz out on the ground, but he's still pissed off about it. Then speak of the devil, the margay limps along nearby. Apex would be surprised that the fortune teller would be willing to be around him again if only he were able to regain his thoughts. Instead, he stares blank at the figure moving near his fire before forcing himself to blink. Grunting, he drags himself onto his side then his stomach and up with a pained hiss. It's hard for him to lift himself on just his twiggy wings alone, but he'll manage as well as he can. Then Jackdaw has to come along too, of all people. Apex won't admit to himself that he's been avoiding the younger male, but it's the truth. He can't stands to see him looking like this, so... like Apex himself. The thought is jarring to him, but it's true. Jackdaw is reminding him a lot of himself, back before all of this came to fruition. It's a disturbing though and it keeps him locked in silence as if he really is hurt until Lousie and Amphion pop up too, the former being amused (though he can only tell by her tone and it earns her a snooty look) and the latter talking of snow and his own failures with roosting. He would ask for some pointers then, but he's too prideful. "I am fine. Stop crowding me." He gets clammy when people crowd him (he felt close to having a heart attack when he joined). It's not that having lots of people around causes it (he doesn't like that either but he doesn't fear it), it's all of them being focused on him. He was always taught against that, taught to blend- an appropriate lesson for a mysterious murderer. Despite his big ego, the apprehension rises, and he can't hide it with as deadpan of a face as he used to be able to. Be that as it may, he won't allow his body to scamper back like it wants to. He's no coward.

"I've never seen snow before, but I bet it's much better than landing on this." Apex grunts and lifts a wing to rub the back of his neck. He drops his wing and sighs then, looking over the blurs before him. "What are you all doing in here with the dead so late anyway?" He asks, almost in an accusing fashion in spite of him also being here. Luckily, he quickly realizes that and excuses himself. "I've decided that I will stay in here myself. I... want to learn the art of embalming." Does he really? He doesn't know, that's just what came to mind. What he means is that he's hanging around for someone to be put in here before their embalming so he can get some sips of blood off of them. It's basically the vampire equivalent of dumpster diving, but desperate times call for desperate measures. He takes a deep breath, but stops midway. Seems his chest was hurt more than anything, ribs aching, but he doesn't want help and doesn't do anything else to indicate pain.

[center][fancypost=bgcolor=;border: 0px solid white; width: 455px; text-align: justify; height: auto;font-size: 8pt; line-height: 122%; margin-top: -2px;]Apex isn't sentimental, but he is emotional, if that makes sense. On the inside, he's passionate and fiery. On the outside, of flat affect and general apathy mixed in with a few glimmers of a spirit inside here and there. But he can't stop the frown that settles on his face when he comes to Pali's alerting, afraid call and sees Amphion there. There's conflicting feelings- one being that Apex has seen many dead birds in his life time, eaten them too, but not a clanmate. Two, he doesn't know the fellow well though he seems kindly. Still, that frown sets heavy. Something that wouldn't have bothered him before seems to be itching under his skin now. Maybe it's because he's seen too many innocents die, several at his own hands, and for no good reason. No good reason at all.

He leans down over the corpse, squinting, and reaches out to check his temperature. "Did you see what happened?" No matter what feelings he may or may not have, 'Dusty's' tone is calm. He leans down and lilts his ear to Amphion's side, trying to listen for any stirring of organs he can catch. "Is there any blood on the ground? Anything unusual?" It's probably a strange question, but the fidelity of his sight isn't good enough to be able to tell for anything in relation to such a small creature. 'Dusty' isn't well versed in the medical field and he's only known how to deal with battle wounds and basic fevers, but he'll try what he can.

[center][fancypost=bgcolor=;border: 0px solid white; width: 455px; text-align: justify; height: auto;font-size: 8pt; line-height: 122%; margin-top: -2px;]He's late and he's not really in any health state to be attacking anyone, but he'll try anyway. The wyvern launches himself at @HIMIKO. and attempts to sink his teeth into the creature's shoulder. His teeth aren't so big but they are sharp and he's hoping to be able to at least get a hold on her.