[Cheeb]

marking holy

[Butter Dragon]

Username:
Butter Dragon
Name:
Ira
Gender:
Agender

"The Wild One" by Shawn James

{Word count:; 657 words}
They do not like to be touched, in fact, Ira will do as much as they can to prevent it. They are rather secluded wherever they make camp and when in towns and city's they get very nervous and obsessive over being so much as brushed against. They are night owl, preferring to roam empty streets under the moonlight then to be in the bustle of others within the light of the sun. Ira is, for lack of better words, different. Think of anything that a normal kalon would do and Ira likely does the opposite or thinks the opposite.

Ira did not grow up as others did. Some say that they grew up with gypsy's, was raised in the wilderness by wild animals, or some say that they fell as a drop of the moon from the sky. Of all these theories Ira may choose their favorite but to no one at all have they revealed their true past, their roots, and they likely never will. Not so much because of their secretive nature but that Ira isn't sure themselves. After a loss of memory Ira couldn't remember any of his past and was left to draw their own conclusions. When Ira was a child they kept journals as though they were already everything they wanted to be, they would write things like "life as a young king today was..." or "someone raided the palace today and stole half of the treasury!" Ira did it all in good fun, trying to escape the life they had that they hated so much but never could Ira have imagined that with every word that they put in those journals they were shaping their own future, and past. At the age of twenty two Ira developed an un diagnosed memory problem and one day they woke knowing nothing about their past. While they retained informational knowledge all the past memories that Ira once held were forever gone. But there was one thing that Ira still had to remember their "past", their journals. Living alone and having no memory all Ira could rely on was their own writing from years ago. Through reading through these journals that they has written so religiously Ira came to believe everything that once was make-believe to him. At a young age Ira may have been a compelling story teller but not one to be consistent and so Ira had a hard time sorting out what was "true" in these journals.

They were revered as a god in many places that they visited, this fed an already apparent attitude of superiority. Ira is mean and has no interest in being told they are wrong, they aren't in denial, they know that they are mean or more accurately rude but they honestly don't care. If it keeps others away from them then Ira is perfectly fine to be the meanest that they feel in the moment. Ira tends to live and let live unless someone interferes with them first. Unless asked they aren't a know it all, they won't stop others and tell them what they are doing wrong however if someone rubs them the wrong way or they are forced to interact for any reason Ira is quick to release their emotions, usually negative I might add.

They don't connect to anyone and has no relationships to speak of. They feel like relationships are a waste of time, and having no blood ties that they know of Ira isn't required to find himself in the company of anyone that they don't chose. Ira has never been romantically attracted to anyone and hasn't ever desired to be either, with the amount of pressure their life style holds Ira has little interest. But more than a lack of time Ira doesn't have an interest in a mate or a family and the closest thing that they have to a good sturdy relationships are some pretty horrible enemies.

{498 of 500}
Anyone who claims that Ira does not have a temper is lying. Ira has gotten into many fights in their past and continues to never turn one down to this day. Ira rubs many the wrong way, and understandably so seeing as anyone who would claim to be such a thing as a king or even more blasphemous a god would be considered crazy or simply lying by most. Though doing neither themselves, at least not intentionally Ira still finds themselves in many arguments, frequently resulting in physical fights over Ira's own outlandish claims. With the temper of a raging bull and the stubbornness of an overly dramatic burro it isn't uncommon to see Ira in a brawl in the street, despite how much they despise getting their own paws dirty. Such was the case on a day in the dead of summer, the suns almighty power forcing respect from those below it from even the smallest creature. Some claimed heat wave while others claimed it was Ira. The rumors of this "god" had spread to this new land just before Ira arrived and had caused their entrance to be less than normal. Ira had received everything from the odd stare to those who wished to touch them in hopes some mysterious power might be transferred from the fur of Ira into a common place mortal that wished only a bit of power over their life. But nothing that Ira had seen so far had prepared them for this day and what he was yet to face in this small dessert town.

"I heard about you."
A voice said from behind Ira. Though Ira had heard many things before they had yet to notice that the words were directed towards them and ignored them continuing to scan the tables of goods in the small market. In turn the kalon trying to get a reaction grabbed his shoulder in an attempt to spin him around. It was then that Ira lost his mind, hating touch and being slightly frightened by the sudden touch when they were so engrossed in what they were currently looking at within the town. They met eyes and the fury of both was unleashed, the unnamed kalon made the first move and Ira responded only in turn. Why were they fighting Ira didn't know to be sure but as long as the stranger kept scratching Ira kept biting in turn. The fight ended abruptly with a sudden slash from Ira's claws into the flesh of the stranger and the stranger ran off knowing full well that he was beat.

It wasn't until after the fact that Ira was aware of their horn, half of it, laying on the ground. Though causing him no pain upon it's breaking Ira's pride was hurt and they hated themselves for allowing him to tarnish his image for a stupid argument. After the event Ira had both remaining horns "bronzed" with pure gold to prevent it from happening ever again.

{217 of 500}
Some may enjoy ones with exotic scents, others may enjoy the ambiance or thought of it but Ira has what you might call an unhealthy obsession with them. Candles. Ira, though not holding the same religions or beliefs that they stem from hold many beliefs surrounding the faceting wax creations. From luck to long life Ira has picked up many ideas from his travels and so many different uses led Ira to begin buying and owning more and more. Aside from what he may think candles represent Ira has always be fascinated with fire and will watch the candles burn with the flame dancing above for hours on end. It is in the pouch that Ira keeps their candles. With every visit to town Ira gets more for his stash and with every candle lit there are at least ten more that they have hiding somewhere else.
Though it is unbelievably old Ira keeps their bag in mint condition, shining the gold buckles and keeping the fabric good as new through all weather. His style is quite different from that of his bag however having very few possessions and no memories from his past he can't bare to let go of his pouch, one of the only things he had left with him after his black out.

[Goosecheese]

mark

[❌ DYNAMIGHT ❌]

m-maybe??

[vympyre]

mmmmmmaark <3

[Wileyfangs]

-loud sobbing in the distance-

[jensen ackles]

--
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--
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Username: jensen ackles

Name: Tohopka Soto - Tohopka is a Native American Hopi name meaning "wild beast."

Gender: Male

Personality:

dreamer / well-versed / artistic / solemn / earnest / understanding

Tohopka is a kalon who constantly dreams of a better world. You could say he's somewhat a philosopher, but he tends to do more than just think about things. He not only dreams, but he carries out that which he dreams. His drive to improve the lives of those around him and to seek new things leads him to live a rather... interesting life. Tohopka goes through periods of his life where he is invested in a particular thing, and pursues that until he loses interest, upon which he finds something new to explore. His interests have varied widely, and have included music, art, athletics, and, most notably, literature. To Tohopka, the only pursuit he truly brought to life (with the exception of art) is literature. Tohopka finds that books present new ideas and hopes to his hungry mind, and often he locks himself away in libraries for days on end, devouring every word of every book he can get his paws on. But art has become a second passion for him, as it creates for Tohopka a way to vent his ideas and feelings. He is fond of watercolors, as their fluidity create a sense of creation and movement that Tohopka adores.
Regarding his attitude, Tohopka is a solemn boy. He always presents himself in a professional and formal way, and most others would describe him as a sincere soul, but at the same time quite serious. His attitude is always very businesslike, even when Tohopka is in situations that should be very casual. But in all his solemn-ness, Tohopka is incredibly earnest in all things he does. He believes that an honest life is the only life worth living, and without staying true to oneself they are depriving themselves of living a full and true life. But one of Tohopka's best qualities is his understanding and acceptance. He will not ever judge someone on their beliefs or opinions, as he believes that is both wrong and insensitive.

How did they lose half their horn? Did it hurt? (500 words max.)

His own foolishness is what truly took his horn. When he was a young adult, he was full of swagger and life.

What is their use for the pouch? (500 words max.)

Truthfully, Tohopka doesn't use his pouch, ever. Once, he might have carried his own child, but those days are long past. His use for his pouch passed away along with his former self, when he realized he wasn't fit to stay home forever. Unfortunately, Tohopka only learned his lesson after he lost his child, a daughter, to a disease plaguing his homeland.

[wajas]

╭xxxxxxxxxxx╮
xxUsername:
xxwajas
xxName:
xxYarramundi
xxGender:
xxFemale
╰xxxxxxxxxxx╯

"I cross the trickling streams of my mind, their hungry
mouths ensnare my feet, in search of my better half;
I look through my memories to see, if
at some point, I even had one."

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《xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx》
xxxxPersonality:
xxxxDistant, somber,
xxxxand impatient,
xxxxYarramundi
xxxxprefers her
xxxxown company.
xxxxShe recedes
xxxxinto the shadows of
xxxxher den, using her
xxxxdays to craft
xxxxsmall statues
xxxxout of drift
xxxxwood. She
xxxxhas no use for
xxxxthem, however,
xxxxunless if warding off
xxxxthe territory's
xxxxdeceased counts.
《xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx》
███████████████████████████████████████████████████████████

╔xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx╗
xHer horn
x"Go away," she snarled into
xthe shadows, her eyes aglow
xunder the moon's pale
xlight. Yarramundi
xtensed while she bore
xher ivory fangs, prepared
xto use them. But
xthe intruder edged forward
xdaringly, his vivid eyes
xshimmered in the dark like
xthe amber orbs that they are.

x"Leave? You know I cannot
xdo that," he croons,
xstalking towards
xYarramundi.
xThe Kalon snarls louder,
xand lunges forward with
xa single goal in mind:
xRemove the threat.
xHe went tumbling down the hill,
xkicking up dirt while he steadies
xhimself. She didn't give him
xa chance and attacked Rue
xagain, this time with much more
xforce.

xThey dance in the night,
xspinning dead leaves into
xthe wind, kicking up water
xwith a flurry of snarls
xand rushed punches.
xThe exchange of blows
xleaves Yarra in a fit of
xlabored breaths;
xblood dripping
xdown her head,
xa morbid form
xof face paint
xthat stuck to her
xthick dreadlocks.

xShe lays on her side
xwith drooping eyes,
xher broken ribs
xthrob under
xher skin,
xa cruel reminder
xof her fate.

x"What's this?
xGood ol' Yarra's
xtired?" Rue
xnears Yarra's
xinjured form, a
xsmile creeps onto
xhis eery features.

xBut Yarra wasn't done
xjust yet. She flips onto
xher feet and rams her head into
xhis chest. She flinches as
xa sharp, overwhelming
xforce of pain courses
xthrough her body,
xstemming from one of
xher beloved horns.
xRue's grin widens while
xhe stands over Yarra's
xweak form, his chest glistens
xwith Yarra's blood, as
xwell as a cooler material.

xHe wore armor,
xYarra blinks, watching
xthrough red-tinted
xvision as Rue steals
xher small supply of food.
xShe watches him return from
xher den, dropping the torn
xhalf of her horn in
xfront of her eyes,
xa reminder of the results
xof confronting Rue.
xused 301 words of 500
╚xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx╝

Yarramundi's Pouch
Because of her interest in woodwork, Yarramundi carries around a variety of sharp
tools within her auburn fanny-pack. From small arrow heads to scavenged Swiss
Army knives, Yarramundi carries what she can to help improve her whittling
passion. Besides her craft supplies, Yarramundi stows treasures within the pouch.
She paces along the stream, picking up things that catch her attention. Her
most prized possession, however, is a rugged, small piece of zinc. She
came across it on one of her daily rounds by the stream, when something
caught her eye. She picked it up from an old settlement, and kept it with
her since.

[*Psychomi*]

Username:
Name:
Gender:
Personality:
How did they lose half their horn? Did it hurt? (500 words max.)
What is their use for the pouch?(500 words max.)

[cinnamonroll]

holy mark .o.