Posts by JOHNNY J.

He's still so pissed, he can't believe that someone is still trying to lead a raid tonight.

He supposes that it would 'let off steam' if it was targeted at the clan he felt deserving of such brutality. With Wind Haven being an ally in the Flights, his heart won't let him support such an action, but it's not like he could participate anyway. Besides, they'd lost one of their strongest fighters. Not that the Haven could fight back very well.... Frustrated, he pads over, brows locked in a downward furrow, but he tries to keep himself together. This is for the Red God, he thinks, just to keep himself from completely lashing out. Though, if he sees Jace try and fight in this raid, he thinks he might lose his shit.

"Don't die," he comments bluntly, tersely. "'F y' need healin', I'm here." But he wouldn't like it.

Dammit, dammit, dammit.

He was trying to keep up with her, he really was, but she'd left so suddenly that he could only hope he was heading in the right direction. He isn't sure quite why he's following her, but something tells him he needs to. Something tells him that, though their fates are not ensnared, they're linked enough to each other by now that her just leaving is wrong. Even if she had every right to, even if he hates her, even if she nearly killed him that one time and could very well do it again, he finds himself trailing after her as quickly as his shaking paws will allow.

"Ver!" he shouts into the dark, ears pinning to his skull. "Fuckin'... hold on a second, damn!" He tries to form more words, but they don't come. We need to talk- like hell they needed to talk, and even if they did, what would they talk about? Would he gloat that she's left? Would she tell him to fuck off? Johnny pants as he drags himself through the pines, the scent familiar but not. His arms ache- but hey, at least it's better than walking on the sand. He coughs and the action wracks him for a moment, so he pauses to catch his breath, blue eyes searching deep through the thickly wooded territory. Dammit, where the Hell did she go?

"Ver...!" he tries again. He's weaker this time, less hopeful; the reality of what could happen is setting in, and he finds his arms shaking again, his head beginning to pulse with a now all-too-familiar ache. But no, he'll be stronger; he has to be stronger, or else he'll never know what the fuck compelled him to run all this way to talk to someone who once tried to kill him.

oo sure!! that sounds fun :3c would u want a priv for them or have them just interact in opens for a bit?

Maybe if they'd met on different terms, Johnny could've convinced Pyrr to leave the Exiles after all. He liked to think everyone deserved second chances, at least when he was in good conscience, but... well, suffice it to say that he was not in very good conscience right now. Blue gaze stares at Pyrrhic-Sang, diamonds cutting into flesh and bone.

The other stutters over something, and his ears prick hotly towards the noise. A stutter? Pathetic, he thinks hypocritically. If I were to capture someone I'd make sure I wasn't fucking stuttering the whole time. Johnny faces the wall until he realizes that his captor is moving closer, and so his gaze returns to the feline with contempt. The flicking open of the fan is so graceful, he can't help but hate it that much more. No beauty should come out of his own suffering. The feline's ears flatten as Pyrr keeps advancing, and soon the savannah tom is yelling in protest of the blades against his throat.

"Get th' hell offa me!" he yowls, and attempts to press unsheathed claws to the other and shove him away. Panic has settled, prickling, into his gut. Johnny suddenly isn't sure that he'll make it out of here. After all, the Flights tended to take their time in recapturing prisoners- not that there was anything wrong with that; it kept those remaining safe -and he wasn't willing to bet solely on that possibility. His breathing increases its speed and shallowness. His pulse quickens. "I don't even know what th' hell you want from me!" He can feel blood trickle in the tiniest beads down his chest, and suddenly his left paw begins its tremors. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Exiles and blood. He wonders if he'll ever stop smelling some combo of the two. They appeared so frequently together that Johnny was almost having a hard time distinguishing the two at this point, but one without the other was just as bad as they were together.

He follows quickly after Arya, trying to reach the scene as fast as he needed to. Running was not exactly the paralyzed man's strong suit. His satchel of herbs that he kept on himself clanged inconveniently against his side. The mournful howls of Speedfreak and desperate bellows of Jace breeze past his ears as he comes upon the injured girl, his blue eyes grazing her quickly to try and assess her wounds. The ears are likely a job for Rentarou, but the rest he can manage. After all, healing Aru had been quite the learning experience.

"'Scuse me," he deadpans, pushing past the two crowding his patient to get a better look at Retrobloom. "I can take it from here." Maybe he's grown cynical, but he finds that too many cooks spoil a stew. Johnny retrieves marigold from his pouch and chews it into a poultice, slathering it into the deep wounds across the girl's body and promptly wrapping them with cobwebs. The mangled leg takes a considerable amount of his supplies, though, and the physician's assistant worries slightly if he'll have enough all the way out here. Hopefully Ren isn't too far behind me. Now he's onto the paw. A broken paw is much different than a whole leg, and worry weighs his brow down in its middle. Would a stint work? Or would he have to leave that to Rentarou, too? He hates that he's considering leaving any of it for the head Physician, but these aren't things he's been trained on yet.

"That should stop most 'f th' bleedin'. I can't lie n' tell ya I can fix all 'f it. Some a' that's gonna have t' be a job fer Ren, or somebody more experienced, at least," he tells the gathered, ears twitching uncertainly. Johnny glances behind him, back towards camp, to see if anyone else will be arriving. "But she's more stable now."

He did not keep memorabilia from his youth. He'd had so many trophies, so many pictures, so many medals, but they didn't mean anything to him. The victories were fleeting. They never garnered enough attention, not when his father was so busy praising Nicholas to raise his younger son. There was nothing to keep besides those stupid trophies, and so he'd left home without them, without his brother, and without the ability to walk.

There was one more thing he'd lost, though, much more recently, and it was a soundness of mind. While he wasn't insane by any means, his anxiety had shot through the roof of his skull. Everything was against him, and so he decided he'd be against everything else, too. His fur was in a constant bristle, however slight, his ears frequently flattened against the things that he didn't want to hear. But most of all, there was a certain impulse to try and chase a certain somebody out of the Flights.

His desperate need for attention in the wake of months of lacking it warped his brain, but never more so than now. Johnny had found Atlas to be a fast friend, and when the weight of Gyro's absence had finally set in, a faster crush. Maybe he should have been smarter than to let his heart go out unprotected, especially when there was hardly a semblance of a romantic relationship between them, but now that it was injured he was out for (metaphorical) blood. Freya's joining had only worsened things between himself and Atlas, and there was a certain desperation to have her gone that his injured mind would not let go of.

With Sova in his jaws, Johnny perched at the edge of one of the rivers in the Osprey Commons, reflection staring back at him. He'd been contemplating actually dropping the toy in when Freya's growl reached him, and his mind made the decision for him. Claws raked through the toy's soft cloth, spilling stuffing into the rushing waters below. Johnny parted his jaws to release the wraith of it, watching it swirl far downstream. Only afterwards did his stomach drop.

"Oh, shit."

Johnny was gone.

It had been a while since he'd entered the medicine den now, and his scent around camp had begun to grow stale, a mark of his sparse attendance here. He did not vanish against his will, or because he was captured or injured or worse. Rather, he vanished because his heart ached too much to stay any longer. It was his own fault for not being around, but steadily he was squeezed out of where he felt he belonged, and with all of the turmoil in the Ruins, he decided he couldn't handle clan life. Not while Atlas was being romanced by some other person; not while Gyro was still out there (damn him for leaving); not while Johnny was trying to find his own peace of mind. There was so much healing to do that he couldn't even heal himself at this point. The days trudged on until he decided he didn't want to live like that anymore. Bags packed, Johnny selfishly abandoned them.

A messily-written note laid posted near the entrance to his den:

Sorry. I'll miss y'all.

That was the last remnant.

His search was over, but not complete.

Occasionally, he felt bad about leaving behind the people that he'd left behind. Atlas had been kind, but Johnny's jealousy went unchecked, and seeing the wolf with Freya all the time made his blood boil. He missed Sleepingsunrise's sweetness, even though the last months in which he could remember her had been tumultuous. And then... Lily. Rude, stupid, combative, cross, and yet she had grown to be much more than that. Their pasts were similar. He still can't quite remember the word she used for it- solitaire, or something -but the feeling of familiarity and support that he felt when he was by her side were undeniable. They were friends. She'd said so herself- and he'd just up and left her.

Grief, bitter and sharp, laces its long fingers around his heart and squeezes. He'd left her, and he'd left all of them, and for what? Self care? He knew he was selfish, and he'd known that he was being selfish when he packed his bags and left, but the guilt didn't hit him until much later. It didn't hit him until he realized that his journey was largely for naught, when he'd picked up that stupid pink teddy bear with tears in his eyes and a lump in his throat. It was only then that he realized exactly what would bring him peace of mind, and it was then that he realized he'd never get it. Regrets still linger in his chest about feelings never shared. They'd never even kissed.

Even now, he's too caught up in his own sadness to notice that he's approaching Shadow Veil territory. The feline drags himself through soft pine needles long-fallen, only vaguely aware of the dampness of the earth beneath his forepaws. He knows that he is heading back to Agrelos, but where never mattered much to him. His end goal was the Ruins, but the other clans were hospitable enough that he knew he could take shelter wherever he might land initially until he can complete his journey. A hardly-intact sack hangs loosely at his side and bumps his leg with each step. Inside it, a pink teddy bear is hidden.

/ LITTLEFLAME.

Johnny didn't like the silences either, but it usually turned out that Littleflame was much more assertive in taking control of the conversation than he was. The feline listens to her quiet babble, notes that he was successful in hearing Ver's name and not wincing, and flicks an ear. "Good thing y' asked Ver. I dunno who else in their right mind'd mentor you," he responds in good nature. "Yer a lot t' handle." The savannah flashes her a shit-eating grin, but his eyes fall to her paw as she gestures how tall she might be as a kitten. Jeez. She was tiny. Her final statement hits his ears, and he glances into the territory, gaze skipping from pyramid to pyramid. It's been a while since he's been back here, and it's been an even longer time since he's been back here in a halfway-decent state of mind. He wonders who might still be lingering.

He feels a flick at his side and he's pulled from his thoughts. You do the talking. "Huh? Oh, uh, right," he mumbles in response, largely to himself. He didn't mind being the more sociable one, especially considering joining the Ruins had been his idea in the first place. His thoughts are still occupied by the faces he knew last he was here. Ace, Retrobloom, Speedfreak, Arya, Nadine, Jace, Rentarou. Were they all still breathing the same desert air they had been then? Was the Ruins still in need of medics? He sort of hoped not- medicine was one of the only ways he could think to make himself useful, but it had been so draining, too.

He spares Lily a grateful glance as they wait for someone to arrive. "Thanks fer comin' with me," he tells her quietly. "I 'preciate it." And that was that.

His ears twitch as he picks up pawsteps in the sand, and Johnny lifts his head to face the first arrival. Oh- he's seen this guy before, back when he'd dualled in the Flights and the Ruins, and his ears perk up as he realizes who it is.

"Hey, Elian," the savannah greets. You miss this hellhole? "Well I wouldn't be back here 'f I didn't, yeah?" His tone is friendly, a bit bouncier than the regent might remember, but it's a bit of a half-truth. Sure, he missed the desert from time to time, but he didn't miss it for its weather or its landscape. The sand was rough and harsh to his paralyzed limbs that he had to tote around behind him. The image of the Blood Nile was enough to make his head hurt and paws shake. But there were things he'd started here and never finished, and he wanted to get them done. His medical training, his search for the Red God (in something more than just belief)... other things, too, but he can't put names to them. There is simply an inexplicable draw towards the sandy desert, one he hasn't been able to shake for months, almost a year. He can't stay away.

Jace arrives, and Johnny turns a relaxed grin to the lion. "Sure is," he confirms, an ear twitching. Jace had been pretty nice to him throughout his time in the Ruins- there'd certainly been some things they'd... disagreed on, but he figured things were different now. Second chances, or something. "Me n' my friend're lookin' t' join. Er, rejoin, in my case. 'F that's a'right with y'all." He deliberately avoids introducing Lily, figuring she could do it herself, and the possibility of her roasting him over an open flame for speaking for her were very high. He doesn't recognize Ace in his new body, and his attention moves to the next three strangers, settling more acutely on the one that speaks.

He's seen blind eyes before, remembering the blank stares Ezra would give him, despite the fellow savannah feeling so full of life. Johnny blinks his own blue eyes at him, not that he could see, ears twitching curiously as the child asks him a question. So Jace had more kids? Part of him wondered how that was possible- wasn't Jace, like, old? But he doesn't know enough about it to ponder it further, nor does he want to.

"Howdy, Redkit," he greets in response, voice warm despite the slight southern rasp. "N' yeah, I used t' live here, a few months ago. M' name's Johnny. Nice t' meet ya."

"Quit talkin' like such a robot," Johnny drawls towards Ace as he arrives, initially drawn by the scent of a stranger, but his attention had quickly been captured by the odd inquiry. Define alive? The Hell kind of talk was that? Besides, he didn't remember Ace being all too uppity when he was last around, though the one comment he'd made still stands out in Johnny's mind. Fix your drawl. Asshole. He liked his drawl. And, frustrated by his fellow Ruiner's apparent lack of illness etiquette (though there were certainly others that frolicked about in blatant disregard of the whole 'not getting others infected' idea), he tacked on, "n' maybe stay inside 'f yer feelin' like shit." He shoots Ace a frown, then turns his attention to who he thought would be a stranger.

"Dio?"

It's a name he hasn't heard since his days as an able-bodied jockey, but it's a name that is revered in the racing circles. Dio, the genius British jockey, and one Johnny has even seen race a small number of times. He wonders if the goberian will recognize him. Much of him doubts it; he was just a star jockey where he grew up, but he'd dreamed of racing against the other man one day, and now he was here. He ignores the man's snide comment about healthy Ruiners, considering he was looking at one now that Johnny was here, and instead flicks an ear carefully.

"Yer welcome t' join th' Ruins," he answers, but quickly leads into more speech. "But, damn, what're ya doin' in Agrelos? I never thought I'd see ya again." A part of him wishes he hadn't seen Dio again at all- the memories the canine brings to the border, memories of racing and therefore memories of Gyro, sting his conscience. But he can't turn away a joiner, not to mention one of the most brilliant jockeys of their time, just because he made Johnny sad.

Events like these made him miss his old home. Not to mention, the sidewalks there had been better kept, which made moving himself around a hell of a lot easier, and his apartment hadn't been full of bugs, but... well, he had wanted to return here, right? This was home, truly, and even if it wasn't, there was too much important shit for him here to walk away from it. At least he had Lily.

As he rolls towards the scene, he wonders what she would think of the monthly stoning. It didn't bother him too much, having been numbed to the brutality of this place long ago, finding it easier to drink it away inside Red's bar or his own apartment when he could. Now that he was actually 21, he guessed he wouldn't need to rely on luck and pity for the disabled to get him drinks, but that was neither here nor there. His blue gaze trails the garbage truck passively. Wonder what he did. Strangers stood around him, mixed with the two familiar faces he'd known from his last time living here. The youngest girl is the one that piques his interest most; was she... supposed to be here? Maybe he was numbed to the brutality from his fellow adults, but this was a kid. Was she supposed to be so actively engaged in the stoning? His face wrinkles with thought, but ultimately slacks again, deciding he shouldn't meddle. He'd made a friend out of Lily, but she and himself were similar. He didn't know a damn thing about this little kid, standing as if she hadn't just thrown stones at an already dead man.

"It's good weather fer other things, too," he mumbles, glancing up to the clear sky. The sun beats down on them, as it usually does. "Like... fuck, I dunno. Ridin' bikes. Go on a bike ride in my honor, yeah?" The wheelchair-bound man lets out a chuckle, as if anyone knew him well enough to even consider his joke.

The feline had wandered over prior to any allies showing up. He was, essentially, a living garbage can; whether the food seemed edible or not, he would gladly scarf it down. He was just glad his appetite was back full-force after all that time wandering around on his own, though his stomach twinges sadly at the notion that Gyro wasn't here to share with him. Whatever. I can still have a good time, his mind asserts. He likes parties; he's always liked parties, and this was just another one to enjoy. His mind made up, he is just about to bite into a delicious-looking taco when he feels his stomach drop.

Exile scent is not hard to pick out when you have been captured there before. The savannah cat whips his head around, hostility flashing in his eyes only for it to melt into... confusion. When he'd joined, he hadn't been informed of the alliance status between his clan and the group of rogues that were now trickling into the scene; the first he didn't recognize, but Cory was hard to forget when he lead the damn place. He's used to seeing them in only dangerous contexts; battle, being held prisoner, being tortured for answers he didn't have. But now they were here, beginning to socialize, amicability painted into their very faces. How could they look like that, when he had only seen them as monsters before?

"Fer f-fuck's sake," he mutters, under his breath and anxious, blue eyes searching for the nearest beer he can get his paws on. The only vaguely safe face he could identify was Elian's, and he itches to ask the wolf what the hell was happening, but words don't come. Instead, his paw gives way to a frustrating shake as he swipes a beer off of the table and downs it just as quickly, face puckered with discomfort. Fuck the Exiles. Why the hell are they here? When the fuck did we start bein' all buddy-buddy n' shit with 'em? The paralyzed feline's fur prickles up until it can't, and he grabs another drink before he tows himself to the far reaches of the party, upset that the Exiles were here and that Gyro wasn't and that his damn paws are shaking and his stutter is back. Happy fuckin' Cinco de Mayo. He takes another swig.

Johnny had no personal qualms against the Thunderlands, and though the Ruins has seemed to have ramped up their whole aggressive shtick since he'd last lived here, he can't quite bring himself to do the same. He's always been emotional, maybe mouthed off a little too much when he was younger, but he's never been the face of aggression that his clanmates could be. He drags himself to the border, quiet and observant. It seemed that Jace was feeling pretty level today, which was nice, and he shoots Ace a look for not keeping himself inside, then focuses on the Thunderlanders with mild interest.

So they were arguing for their kids back? He isn't sure how to feel. Children being captured... it had happened a few times in his past living here, but he'd never loved the idea. Harming children was something the Exiles did. Had that standard changed? His ear flicks as he listens, chewing the inside of his cheek. What would happen if this went... poorly? He glances back in towards the sandy desert territory, taking in the smell of blood and sand and sunlight. This was his home. The Flights and the Thunderlands had never been strong allies when he'd lived there, and though Enjolras had his alliance litter while Johnny was around, it had never seemed to do much to bring the two clans closer. The best thing that had come out of it had been that new year's ball, in his opinion... but that was neither here nor there. He'd fight for his home, right? This was where he and Gyro had lived, and that was enough to make it worth it.

He turns silently back towards the small group, deciding not to say much, opting to listen.

character name: johnny

brief description of character: a paralyzed savannah cat with a loud mouth

what position are you applying for: priest!

back-up position wanted: physician, third tier, second tier, whatever u see fit!

character experience: johnny's been a priest already before, firstly, but he also joined the ruins as a red god follower and has plenty of experience with worshiping the red god!

Johnny really despised the vibes that this Henri dude gave off. He was freaky, covered himself in painted eyes, and spoke in almost exclusively cryptic sentences that just rubbed his fur the wrong way. Like, what was his deal? Either way, though, the feline pulled himself over for a task, blue eyes expectantly resting on the white feline. "Me too," is all he offers in the way of words. He just hopes he gets something he can actually manage.

hotwheels has logged on.

hotwheels: the best food in the entire fuckin universe is pizza. specifically with mozzarella cheese

hotwheels: next topic is favorite color

Johnny hated the Red Nile, so he watched from far beyond the bank, but the fact that Lola could walk on it was pretty neat, he supposed.

Johnny had smelled the Veil and instantly thought of Lily. She hung around the Ruins enough, but he suspected she preferred the thickly-pined territory to the hot desert one, and he didn't blame her. She'd lived in the jungle and the pines for as long as he'd known her, and he was pretty sure she'd only joined the Ruins to help make his own journey here easier. But he digressed. He hurried towards the scent, hoping for some friendly faces. He was (perhaps blissfully) ignorant to the situation between the two clans, what with the mounting tensions and things, so when he finally did arrive, confusion brewed hot in his stomach.

The paralyzed feline drew himself to a halt alongside Bellona, cringing at Umbral and Henri's words. He already suspected the white tom to be off his rocker, but the raven was just being a prick, calling the Veilers rude when they were just here on business- and tough business, it looked like. His blue gaze drift over the two disapprovingly, then back to Adara and Junebug. He swears he's seen them both before, but their names are just beyond his reach. The girl speaks coldly, but he doesn't believe she's without substance or whatever the hell Henri was on about, and the boy had apparently had a family member captured and tortured. A child. "Oh, what the fuck?" he mumbles, under his breath and only for him to hear. Hadn't the Ruins had rules against torturing children? They had last time he'd lived here- had something changed that much already?

He casts his glance to Jace, listening as Arya apologized, and as Bellona and Evangeline spoke against making enemies of the Veil. He doesn't bother to tune into Ace's or Henri's or Umbral's ramblings, hoping that they'd stop embarrassing his clan before they ruined the Ruins' reputation indefinitely, assuming things could go as well as he wanted them to in the next few moments.

"Jace, I don't wanna fight th' Veil, man," the savannah chimes in agreement with his superiors. Not that I could fight anyone, but the Veil's fuckin' strong. 'Sides, we don't need a fuckin' war when we're comin' down off this illness, right?

/ ic opinions!

Johnny was also not much of a fighter, though he wished he could be. Unfortunately, being paralyzed from the waist down didn't help him in many combat situations. When he'd still had full use of his body, he'd been a mean motherfucker, fighting with whoever he could find whenever he could find them, but a whole myriad of things had mellowed him out to who he was now. Sometimes he's grateful for it. The quiet moments of friendships or sadness or otherwise were nice, quiet lulls in his otherwise turbulent life. Most of the time (and especially now that he is back in the Ruins), he wishes he had his full range of motion back. But... oh well. This is how things were now, and he would just have to get used to it.

He was drawn to the call for a spar, though, ears and whiskers twitching curiously. He recognized Bellona from his previous bouts of living in the Ruins, and though Evangeline was a less familiar face, he got the impression that she'd lived here for a long time, too. "I'll just sit back 'n see how it's done," he calls from the sidelines, amicable and genuinely interested in the spar. It's been a while since he's seen a good fight, after all, but he always preferred watching friendly fights than ones between enemies- hence why he didn't stray far outside of the Ruins' borders.