Posts by losteyes old acc.

Losteyes here is the deputy of the Sanctuary and I would love love love for these two to be gardening buddies!! :^0

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//this phone is killing me lmaooo

It was sorry the state of the air quality and sky, pale blues cast across a heavenly visage stretched above turned gray as the swampy mist drifting over his ankles. The dull hues of the forest drenched in monochrome wore thin on his energy level, he was unusually tired, and that extended to his patience. Such explained the distant look which he gave the newcomer, Flynn, a cold accompaniment to the heavy lidded stare he observed the world with; he didn't regard obstructive behavior akin to that of arrogance with any praise. "Hm," he started shortly, arriving to stand unevenly before the unfamiliar face. He loathed the fact that anyone could just show up within the parameters of joining with little more than a cold shoulder to face, but he supposed it wasn't the most pressing of matters. "Alright." he decided finally, taking a seat where he stood. Tiredly, he intoned an introduction. "I'm Losteyes."

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There was a patch of memory which stretched spindly limbs under the expanse of his ivory skull, a painstaking absence in the woven threads of his past; there were no recollections to be had from when he was born to when he found himself on the streets, and yet those were the times of his past which he cared not to rediscover. He didnt care about who he was or who he was meant to be, where he came from, who he belonged to. His life had lead him to that spot among withered grass and scenic landscape amongst muddled smoke and fog, so he supposed it didn't matter how he got there, just that he was there to question the stranger lingering uncertain over the edge of their torn territory. The creature inquired solace amongst a land and near carnage and while Losteyes had attention stolen, he was slightly miffed at the notion of ignorance. Nonetheless, he arrived, memories or no.

The chill of autumn had not nipped at his shoulders yet, but the skin under his eyes was darkened with tiredness akin to a lack of sunny skies. Heavy lidded stare imposed itself upon the wildcat, the uneasy expression painted upon his face. Losteyes didn't exactly scream sympathy in his own appearance; half mast eyelids and perpetual frown tacked onto a more deeply embedded presence of sorrow, and exhaustion . He was tired, emotionally, but he never was one for weakness of the mind. Perhaps the stranger would be more appriciative of the melancholy ache of his soul. Gathered through a non-obtrusive once over, he suspected the newcomer didn't pose a threat, especially with Olive hanging off his legs.

"This is the Sanctuary." he eventually admitted, folding his limbs to sit where he stood, tired gaze directed evenly toward Greyfell. He wanted to curl his lip and speak in rough sarcasm toward a fool seeking help in a land in the wake of disaster, but perhaps that was just hopeless cynicism talking, or a dramatic disposition. Instead, he continued mechanicely through business endeavors. "And we're plenty hospitable; you'll find shelter here." despite current preoccupations, he would feel foolish if he were unable to offer a good soul solace in the wide countryside; he could even sleep in Losteyes' own cabin, for all he cared. Still, the blankness in his tone was tilting with calm and simplicity, hoarse. With little more than a furrowed touch upon his brow, he adjusted to questioning. "What's your name?"

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Losteyes cared little for the belief of angles and demons, knew even less of those whom claimed to be of such origin. He didn't believe in ethereal beings nor mystical beings aside from those which thought themselves to be of higher status, for they truly existed, whether or not their supposed angelic blood dripped honesty. He was comprised of ivory bone and crimson muscle and pure sarcasm, and he didn't need some high and mighty heritage screaming fables down his throat.

He approached on steady feet and weary shoulders, grounded by the fog curling its silvery sheen over his ankles. His presence amongst the border had lessened compared to before, finicky in his steady exhaustion from day to day, yet he was sure in his standing afore another stranger at the territory's edge. Hooded eyes stared blankly toward the strangely voiced creature, pointed ears twitching against the gentle stammer to the missionary's tone. He was silent, however, merely taking up the empty spot beside Flynn in anticipation of an expectant answer.

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Losteyes regarded the quaint appearance of Frisk''s cabin with a resigned exhaustion compared to the insane conditions which the countryside had been plunged into. He padded into the warmth of the oak walls as nonobtrusively as possible, head stooped slightly to accommodate his lowered gaze so that he may sit along the edge of the carpet quietly, posture slackened. Greetings fell dry upon his tongue, dying before is maw even cracked, so instead of participating in idle chatter he let his tired eyes drift closed, ears twitching against the unfamiliar drone of music.

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"Of course." it was a simple sentiment which fell evenly from his mouth, an instant reaction, for his gaze had since fallen to peer blanfly at something over Greyfell's shoulder. The mist and its people had neglected to scare away the stranger, so his unfamiliar lit still graced the feline's ears, and expectancy seemed to hang off of the wildcat's words. Murky green gaze flicking up toward the newcomer, he dipped his head into a curt nod of acknowledgement. "Of course, Greyfell. I'm Losteyes, it's," it was growing more and more difficult to remain civil, his energy dwindling. Through a quiet, breathy exhale, he continued. "It's nice to meet you." he was trying, obviously, but his attempt at serenity had since fallen flat. Shifting his shoulders, he angled his frame as an invitation into the foggy landscape, eyes sliding toward the opposite direction. "Camp is this way." he admitted lamely.

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* LOSTEYES SAUVETERRE MIDDAY | Demi-boy | Twelve months | Former Deputy and Harbinger of War in the Sanctuary

* Demiromantic Asexual | Not interested | Makes enemies easier than friends

* A strange fellow shrouded in mystery, Losteyes is a man of indifference and dislike of the people around him. He's cold and aloof, an emotionless shell of intimidating stares and blatant sarcasm. While he may just seem rude and upset, he struggles with common interaction; social situations make him uncomfortable, and only sometimes does he attempt to be polite. There's an inate sadness around him, an air of lonely sorrow derived from the loss of a loved one, or of a home. Occasionally he can be found in quiet contentness in the presence of plants or sunsets, calm scenes of nature. Otherwise, he's calculated, rough, blunt. A wayward soul.

* A domestic feline with a lean, athletic figure comprised of streamlined muscles and calm disposition. He retains a generally well groomed pelt, a clean alabaster in hue, and though his fur is of a medium length and silky, it is occasionally mussed and messy by sleepless nights. His mood can often be seen through the tightness of his jaw or the position of his shoulders; where his emotion lacks, his body language kicks in.

Losteyes has rather interesting eyes, perhaps alluding to his name. They're somewhat doeish, heavy lidded and droopy, lined with pretty lashes and purple shadows underneath. They're a murky green in hue, light, mossy, the color of a foggy swamp, and somewhat glazed over by deteriorating eyesight.

Most obvious are the scars surrounding his eyes, strips of faded burn scars which spiderweb around his face, though never touching his maw or ears. Some are larger than others, more gruesome. Some red, some pink, some dark and painful. True attributors to his name.

* Will attack if provoked | True Neutral | Do not sneak up on, expect retalliation | Voice Claim (Levi Ackerman)

He finds himself wandering again. Slow, steady footfalls upon uneven terrain, misty and blank. He's hollow, like a wayward soul condemned to a purgatory never ending; a lonely ghost never reaching a haven. Though despite his disappointment, Losteyes was very much alive. Whether he's well or not is certainly up to debate. Point being, he may as well be a lifeless spirit floating along aimlessly, blindly, quite literally.

A coiled feeling of cold, dirty shame etches itself in the blank recesses of his heartless chest, thoughts reminding him of his past, in the past, and of Roman, who was gone, and of everything else. The itch under his skin made his stomach flip, and when the world had gone numb he almost missed the border which instinctually halted his frame. Thoughtlessly he stood outside the territory line, feeling very much out of place. He was where he was looking for. It was an unwelcome feeling of rememberance.

God, he needed a break.

Sitting wordlessly at the border, droopy eyes glanced lamely over the territory as the cold, clammy claws of guilt seized him further, which he remedied by dragging his tongue over one of his raised paws in inconclusive maneuver.

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Murky green gaze had come to rest upon the gnarled from of HawkClan's tabby leader, his paw falling quietly back to the floor as he remained in silent pondering. She didn't seem to remember him, he reflected inwardly. Not that he particularly expected her to; their interactions had been short and few in between. Though it wasn't necessarily relief which coursed through his being at the thought of a fresh start, he was somewhat glad that he wouldn't be having to explain himself to a curious soul, that he could wander along in his own wayward wallowing. Not to mention, this wasn't his home to he complaining in. "Hello," he answered simply, voice low and croaked from misuse. Though others piled in, coming forth to present thoughtful eyes to him, taking in his appearance and perhaps something more, he avoided returning any gaze for fear of becoming too flustered. Instead, he basked in his hollow indifference, eyes trained on the spot above Littlestar's shoulder. "My name is Losteyes." he introduced himself so easily, though briefly he'd considered taking on an alias; that would take too much energy, he'd convinced himself. Shifting his weight slightly, he continued. "Here to join."

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The mid morning cast a dull golden glow upon the redwood forest, an expanse of pale light tinged silver by the looming presence of winter which dragged him out of a sleepless reverie. His form was not staggering from exhaustion, though a certain tiredness did settle evenly upon his bones, for instead he merely strolled through the scent of the forest around him, perhaps graceful in such an endeavor. The pale form of Losteyes walked under branches which stretched far overhead, padding through blotches of cool sunlight peaking out from green canopies. He took in the unfamiliar stench of the world around him in smooth, simple breaths; inwardly he longed for the smell of pine and lavender and baby's breath, though he found himself drenched with herbs and spices, unique to HawkClan.

Perceptive was his nose, despite being damaged by copper and smoke. Even more so enhanced were his ears, which picked up the faint sound of running water before he could smell the cool, refreshing smell of the river itself. The woodland cleared in slight to reveal the winding river scene, its misty presence resting upon his shoulders. He could feel the spray of wayward dewdrops which jumped from the stream even from a few feet away; all things considered, his senses were a prize to behold. And there he stood, mossy gaze peering down toward the glossy sheen of the running water, observing the faint strips of color which it reflected from the sky and leaves above it; blurry visions of white and yellow, the faintest presence of silver and green. Steady footfalls landed him right beside the river edge, pointed ears flickering in response to the bubbling sounds of steady travel; lulled by the movement of the water, he made a hard right and continued walking.

Remaining alert thought wise was and labored process which he easily disregarded. It was much simper to retreat into the blank recesses of his darkened mind than to ponder his place amongst the redwoods lining the corner of his eye. He walked in autopilot along the river bed, mind easily numbed by the tranquility of nature, its simplicity. The songbirds had all gone for the winter, leaving behind sparrows in their wake. He missed the summer.

As simple thoughts trickled into the front of his skull, the static of the world around him cleared into something evidently new. Though at first believed to be a trick of the light, there, nestled against the waters edge, sat not a towering redwood, but a willow. He'd not seen one since the cobbled pathways of a place once home; it caught his attention, whirred his mechanical strolling to a stop. Then, after a moment or two of thought, he padded forth to examine its hollow figure. The tree stood tall and firm and in stark contrast to the world around it. Its branches seemed most preferable for sleeping, and at its sight he found himself nearly homesick. Shifting his gaze downward, he peered blankly at the plaque placed at the trees roots. It meant nothing to him; his ruined eyes couldn't decipher the fine print. Perhaps the willow held more than just mockery toward him.

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