Posts by losteyes old acc.

Aesthetic

words: Quiet, bruised, blue, warrior, soldier, armor, rain.

images: A knight praying to his sword. Blood splattered armor glistening in moonlight. Tired, heavy-lidded eyes with dewy purplish shadows underneath. Soft smiles on bloodied, cracked lips. Split knuckles on hands playing an ivory piano. A lone figure hunched in a dimly lit library, books stacked to the ceiling. Tending to green house plants and succulents surrounding the immediate area. High mountaintop, steep, rocky cliff edges. Faded blind eyes and dark eyelashes.

sounds: The background chatter of night. Lone footsteps walking down an even path, crunching over leaves and pine deep in the forest. The clanking of metal armor. Sharp, jagged breaths and quiet mumbling, movement soft and with haste as warriors prepare for battle. Hisses of pain as medicine is applied to open wounds. A piano playing softly as one taps a tabletop boredly, waiting for something. Quiet, uneven, shaky singing from a hoarse, tired voice; yet full of soft content. The rich, loud, full laughter of friends who have had too much warm whisky, reminiscing the past.

scents: Bloody copper. The rich stench of soil. Dewy grass during a chilly dawn. Metallic tangs. Green tea soap. Sweat and tears over the smell of fresh linen. The warm scent of early morning spring from an open window.

colors: Blue and purple from a bruise. Shiny, metallic silver. Misty gray. Stormy gray-blue. Mossy, marshy green. Milky white. Bullet silver. Warm, metallic amber. Oak brown. Redwood.

feelings: Licking wounds after a battle. Wrapping bloody, medicine covered gashes; sharp pangs of hurt and discomfort. The gratifying rush of adorning new battle gear. The melancholy pull of playing an old piano. The push of heavy winds. Bleary early morning waking before dawn, rising from a warm bed. Cold, closing-in loneliness. Giving in to love and warmth. Chilly, blue, whips of air.

[i]Losteyes is a thin frame through a domestic feline, consisting of lean muscle. His body is streamlined, packed onto a skeletal frame that isn't tall nor short, average in proportion to species if not a tad smaller than common. Athleticism is renounced throughout his appearance, lithe muscle strengthened by supernatural powers and physical training alike; if not for his constant of activity he would most likely be a lot more spindly, skinny and unhealthy. He is powerful, more lean frame giving him the ability of speed and nimbleness, brute strength evening out by agility.

The mulled over answer came with all that he had anticipated; there was no shock or surprise that dawned his features as Luke spoke, his stony expression etched into its lighthearted politeness near indefinitely in that moment. He didn't really expect for WindClan to have a training program going quite yet, but there was some hope to be had. They were bigger than the Sanctuary, he believed, so perhaps they had started on military regiments. Reality, however, was far trickier, so Losteyes responded with clear understanding on his tongue. "Of course. We're much of the same way, in fact. I trust in your abilities, nonetheless." a somewhat fickle sentiment; he hardly knew them at all, though if they promised aid, he believed that they should eventually be able to provide. Luke and Kate both carried themselves with dignity, their abilities of social speaking admirable. It wasn't a problem that their defenses were lackluster at the moment as he could relate, so the second offer on the table intrigued him. "That would be excellent, actually." he said toward Kate, eagerness tainting the edges of his lifted words, true interest pushing past the deadpan cloud of his eyes. A joint training session sounded great.

Frisk swooped in once more with a decision to counter instant gratification. WindClan seemed quite the good choice for an alliance, their ideals and people marking up to the Sanctuary's own; he was even starting to gain trust toward their reach for stability once more. Mossy gaze flickering over to the mocha hued kitten beside him, he nodded wordlessly to their proposition. WindClan almost had a guaranteed spot for an alliance, though he always admired caution; just in case. Frisk had been consistent in their sound decisions for as long as he'd been there - it was easy to agree with them, thusly. A trial would be good. Its acceptance came even easier, as well. Losteyes turned his gaze back toward Luke and Kate, offering the leader a dip of his head. "Looking forward to it." he was eager for such plans to succeed.

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The announcements were rushed, being tossed with little thought toward grace or delivery out of the mocha kitten's maw in rapid fire as to keep everyone out of the rain. Between the swift announcements being thrown at them with intent and the humidity surrounding him on all sides, he was stuck between attempting to remain vigilant and succumbing to the suffocating warmth which congested the air. It felt like he was surrounded by blankets, or like there were two hundred pillows all trying to cut off his airway; uncomfortable, he shifted, sitting slanted as he began to soak up the meeting's announcements. His mind, warped by the heat of the rainy day, had grown hazy, a deadpan look molding his expression like clay. Heavy-lidded eyes turned to stare distantly straight ahead, pointed ears only half-listening to Frisk's words no matter how diligent he wanted to be; the air was simply too thick, the humidity killing. Perhaps he was just being sensitive to the new weather, the gray clouds overhead a cage to the swampy warmth. If he could, he would flop over and try to sleep where he was, not even energized to move.

There was something different about the meeting which caught his attention, though. His name was mentioned above the simple shout out of activity, which everyone should be able to deserve during their time there, and an offer had been expressed. Perplexed, but not really comprehending what was asked of him, his mossy green gaze flickered lethargically up toward Frisk at their porch, lips pursing into a small, thoughtful frown. The gears and cogs confined within his skull turned most vigorously to understand what he had been mentioned with, deciphering the message within his head. It took a moment before he understood; when he did, it felt like the world was falling down around him. Suddenly the humidity meant nothing, disappearing around him as his eyes snapped open, boggled in surprise. A cold sweat of reality washed over him like a wave and Losteyes was stricken to silence.

The meeting was over just as quickly as it had began, rushed words spilling to a close so that the souls around him could meander back to safety before the rain started, if it started. Losteyes was frozen, dumstruck and blinking dumbly toward nothing in particular. It was no secret that he had dedicated himself to the Sanctuary, despite his original intentions. When he had stumbled upon the pretty farmlands which the new Sanctuary was situated, he found himself somewhere that he could rest his weary bones, spend his days lounging around the orchards or the uneven fields, under the shade of forest trees until he grew old, not having to worry about anything for the rest of his life. After he had pledged his allegiance was when they revealed big dreams and bigger asperations, so he had lifted himself and joined the cause. Still, he didn't think that his social awkwardness and snark would get him very far, not that he was particularly looking for any spot amongst the ranks. A higher position just meant more lives weighed on his shoulders, blood on his conscious, only his word to blame. Now that he was there... well, maybe it wasn't so black and white. A good successor? Pride and anxiety swelled in his chest, threatening to creep up his throat and suffocate him for all he was worth. "I..." he started intelligently, still unable to formulate real words. His mouth felt foamy, rubbery words stuck to his teeth, like he was numb and couldn't think.

A revelation struck him like lightning. Thunder rumbled overhead, the sky opening its maw to release a deep roar before a white streak of light flashed in the distance, his inner mind deciding for him under the growl of the cloudy sky. Rain started in single droplets as the heavens above began to sob, warm rain coming to cascade upon swiftly retreating comrades, cleansing water wetting his pale fur. The scars on his face ached. "Of course," he finally accepted, blinking up at Frisk, shell shocked but not unhappy. "Of course I accept. I... Thank you." was all he could get out before he was silenced by the rain.

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fandom week hits and Lost's icon is just Levi Ackerman tbh

dream daddy is the best game

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The Cartel housed that (dare such vile words come from his own mind) fucking shit stain pimp laid low, despite his leadership position in the Knights of Eden. He didn't disagree with the Westeros's desicion to fight it out, for all he knew the entirety of the Cartel were just as bad, though there was some careful territory to tread. Some of their other allies were on better terms with the Westero's current enemy, but he saw no problem with providing them the ability to heal their wounded regardless; they deserved that liberty, by all certainty. "I'm sorry to hear that." he said. It was unfortunate that they were understaffed. "I wouldn't personally be able to provide much help, but I'd much like to aid you in this endeavor." and with that he awaited Frisk's final word.

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He was getting tired of the unknown presences waltzing over the border like they owned the place (or had owned the place at some point), their entitled attitudes seeping out across several characters in the wide world, all collecting in the little farmland Clan instead of somewhere more abrasive, where they might be embraced for such inconsiderate behavior. Stretched out on one of the porch steps of one of those dinky cabins was Losteyes, basking in the warm, dry sunlight that cascaded down upon the grassy village. Dusk was overtaking the territory quickly, the sun growing steadily more orange as it approached the tree-lined horizon. He enjoyed to lay amongst the scents of the forest, ember and pine, pollen floating in the air without a care in the world. The quaint little village was disgustingly romantic, humble cottages amongst trodden paths and alleyways, plush grass and trees surrounding fairy light clad houses. Nonetheless, he found it an admirable place, one that he much preferred over his present alternatives (asphalt and copper, exhaust, concrete), he didn't understand the stigma of hate some seemed to hold behind it.

The presence at the edge of the camp, not the border, was unfamiliar. He felt it aching in his bones, crackling his insides and squeezing on his rib cage in painful realization. Sucking in a breath, his mossy gaze snapped open to peer unwavering toward the stranger as he peered at their homes, bolting into action inwardly. When he stood it was without haste, a meandering trot as he peered deadpan at Fiatte, half-lidded gaze filled with contempt. He stopped in front of the stranger, mouth pulling into a straight line as discontent welled inside his pores. Another trespasser or what? "Who're you?" he nearly sighed, tired of the ignorance regarding the territorial border. There was malice hinted at his tone, but for the most part it was blank, replaced instead with questioning and a cold stoicism associated with his growing frustration. "And I'm sure you know you're not supposed to be here, right?" of course he did, he had that look on his face.

daddy

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Losteyes observed quietly as more of a crowd centered around the note near camp, appreciating Jello's capabilities to read its contents with ease. He felt Frisk's yellow gaze upon him at the mention of gifts and he turned to meet their questioning gaze, providing only a shrug of nonchalant confirmation. He'd been feeling particularly distant at the time, and while he had been to their allies randomly throughout the past two weeks, perhaps the presence of the planters adorning their borders were somewhat of a reminder that the Sanctuary still intended to be a present force. They were just flowers, hand selected based on meaning and correspondence to the clan where they were left, yet HawkClan seemed appreciative. There was at least one pot of flowers that he was particularly proud of, though.

"Probably just a get-together, I would imagine." he piped, blinking back toward the note. A bonfire or party, like they had said. HawkClan was their clostest ally, more interaction really couldn't hurt. Turning toward the kitten once more, he flicked an ear, nodding in acknowledgement to their words. "I'd be willing to go." he offered. He was getting considerably more comfortable with interaction; he felt he should exercise such more often.

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Track with sub!

The Sanctuary has some HP tryouts going on, and every vice-deputy position is open, along with most other positions! Erwin as Harbringer of War or something would be cool, for an example!

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It seemed that his blatant display of contempt only deepened Fiatte's intent of vulgar displays, the smirk on his face having deepened. There was the stench of alcohol on his tongue, only perpetuating the unruly behavior which the unfamiliar feline shone with. Some believed that alcohol was a cry for help, that poor acts of hositlity and gracelessness were only side-effects of pain or loss. To excuse manipulative behavior would be even more toxic, he believed. Forgiving some horrible behaviors were possible, but saying they were only due to some other force was not, and Losteyes held no faith in healing through the expense of others. Fiatte's jagged edges were a fresh reminder of such a fact, and he had no patience for someone that thought they were above others. His eyes narrowed toward the stranger's disregard, the atmosphere only growing more tense as time continued.

Most of Fiatte's words were left in the air, Losteyes only following his staggering frame while easily brushing off answers he deemed unnecessary. The expression on his face remained valiantly blank, half-lidded green eyes and palpable hostility rolling off his shoulders, radiating from the thick unrest around them. The meandering stroll up to a cabin and back down was allowed based on the small fact of restraint, that Losteyes was a civilized individual which need not tackle the less than graceful poise of Fiatte, though his patience for the woozy presence amongst the village was wearing thin. "That depends." he responded blankly, which really spoke more for itself. "Even children have enough common sense to stop at the border, but what could I expect from a drunkard that looked surprised at his own intoxication?" sentences laced with jokeless sarcasm, heeding no warning as he advanced upon Fiatte's sitting frame once more, something dark and unfeeling radiating from his pale figure. He tilted his head slightly, glassy eyes trained unnerved upon the stranger. The type of person that Fiatte conformed to was common throughout his life, it seemed, so he was at least somewhat knowledgeable on how to deal with them; every word that came from his mouth would be encouragement for unruly behavior, so he stuck to a bland done, concise insults and phrases, movements drawn out as if he was bored. "I'll level with you by confessing that I couldn't care less about how wanted you think you are," he continued, breath lifting on a light sigh, flicking an ear. "I'll ask again. Who are you? Why are you here?" maybe he could get away with kicking him out of the territory, regardless of how unfortunately little satisfaction he would get from expelling the vulgar presence afore him.

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The past wracked his brain daily, much like it did Chica, but it never came to him in the form of people. Faint wisps of memories shining through the dead of night, only darkness clinging to the disgusting stench of dirt and copper, gritty asphalt, concrete instead of sky. They were after images printed on his eyelids, scents that still clung to his nose even after he woke up, the taste of blood from a cut on his gums taking him back to a time that he didn't want to remember. The faces, however, were almost completely absent; voices too quiet to be heard. He didn't recall the people of his past, they were pushed from his recollection in what he preferred to call necessity, but was probably more like defense. If only he could get the smell of exhaust out of the confines of his skull.

"But you don't live here." he countered, the obvious truth of his statement causing his words to fly out into the air as chastising, brows raising as his weight shifted forward, as if prompting her to catch on. He returned to his original posture, glassy green eyes flickering toward the distance momentarily, starting to strain. "The Sanctuary is different from when you founded it, I'm afraid. You have no jurisdiction here anymore." he would almost encourage her to get a dual alliance, but that would only mean that he would have to deal with her more often, and he really didn't know how to feel about that. It would be best if she just stayed in her own Clan, wouldn't it?

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I seriously want these two to be friends gossipy best friends that talk about flowers

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