[stormzien]

mark

[Medd-Lee]

username;
name;
gender for breeding purposes;
Continue the story;

write here please.. or not. whatever u wanna do!
QUOTES MAKE STUFF LOOK NICE THOUGH OKay

Mine

My heart is bound, my soul is tied -
What's inside myself I cannot hide

Mark <<33

[jolteon]

███
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
██░
███

███
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
░██
███

████████████████████████████████████
░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░

username; jolteon
name; Tekeste
gender for breeding purposes; male

The night grows darker with every coming minute. There's no denying the fact that you need to get out of the dense overgrown forest as quick as your legs can take you- but something catches your eye from the thick shrubbery. Something almost.. Shiny? It's quite enough to stop you in your tracks.
The glimmering 'thing' appears to wiggle out of the bush, revealing a scornful viscet covered from head to torso with what looks like sharp vines made out of gold?!
"Who's there...?"
The viscet looks you dead in the eye, opening its jaws and baring its teeth.

Miu flinched as the viscet in question snapped its jaws, and tumbled messily out of the bushes. The vines that wrapped around its body seemed to be glowing even brighter, and she could see mist radiating off of the unnatural looking vines. The viscet's breath seemed to have been knocked out of them, and they struggled to take another, from the sudden movement.

"Hah... Can't talk.... Hurts to be nice.." In a dark, raspy voice, the viscet said breathlessly. Miu blinked. Why would it hurt to be nice? It was certainly an odd statement. The female looked at the vines carefully. She could hear a noise coming from the vines, almost like they were creaking. They were moving, obviously, most likely constricting tighter around the male's body. Suddenly, she understood what he meant and nodded hastily, getting closer to the other viscet to inspect his situation.

"Oh, dear.... what happened to you?" Miu sniffed the oddly golden vines in curiosity and pity. The motherly viscet really wanted to help, but she isn't sure what to even do. The male viscet in front of her quickly regained his breath and sat up.

"It's.... a long story," He looked away. "These damned vines... feels like I'm stuck in a cage. I've tried everything. I can't get them off, they're indestructable," He glared as seemingly nothing in anger. Instantly, Miu knew she had to help him. The viscet in front of her has potential to be someone great, but was being held back by the predicament he was currently in. Silent loomed over the two viscets, both lost in thought.

"Well, I may be able to help. I've never seen vines like those that are currently stuck on you, but I may have a couple of ideas up my sleeve," Miu winked. The male just blinked.

"Really...? You think you would be able to cure my curse?" He asked, hope evident in his voice.

"I can't promise anything, of course. But it's worth a try." She smiled reassuringly. "If you wouldn't mind, follow me to my home, we'll get you a good night's rest and I'll see what I can do in the morning," Miu stood up, waiting for the other viscet to follow.

He stood up as well. "Thank y- ugh," The viscet faltered, but quickly caught himself. Another pang of sympathy hit Miu. Her tail began glowing brighter, illuminating the forest around them, and they began their trek back to her home.

"So what's your name? I don't usually like bringing strangers to my home, especially at night," She joked. The male viscet chuckled quietly, cringing faintly as the vines constricted around him slightly.

"Tekeste. And you?"

"I'm Miu. I promise, I will do anything to help you out. I know many sources," Tekeste looked very grateful.

"Th..ank you," He choked out.

-----

wipwipwip

MARK
ideas!-
as a child, he ventured to the forest at night, and saw some cool glowing vines. he decided to try and pick them, but ended up getting cursed, and they wrapped around him.

now, whenever he tries to do a good deed, the vines constrict around his body, basically telling him 'no'
so he has to be bad/rude pretty much all the time.

one day bumps into Miu who takes pity on him (required story could start here!), and they set off on a journey to lift the curse off of those vines!

░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░
████████████████████████████████████

[elliott.]

dropping ! good luck to everyone. <3

[outro:tear]

username; eternityfox.
name;
gender for breeding purposes; male
Continue the story;


"...Run"



ideas wip
Collapses into aki's arms after talking
is very sick
vines are toxic
he's being hunted

[~Trompy]

Alright. Count me in!!

Username: ~Trompy
Name: Erebus
Breeding Gender: Male
Story:

The night grows darker with every coming minute. There's no denying the fact that you need to get out of the dense overgrown forest as quick as your legs can take you- but something catches your eye from the thick shrubbery. Something almost.. Shiny? It's quite enough to stop you in your tracks.
The glimmering 'thing' appears to wiggle out of the bush, revealing a scornful viscet covered from head to torso with what looks like sharp vines made out of gold?!
"How did that get there?!"
The viscet looks you dead in the eye, opening its jaws as if it were going to say something.

^Alright, lets work with this...

[steamplonk]

dropping
[ ｕｓｅｒｎａｍｅ ] steamplonk
[ ｎａｍｅ ] mammon
[ ｇｅｎｄｅｒ ] female
[ ｓｔｏｒｙ ]


>the night grows darker with every coming minute.
there's no denying the fact that you need to get out of the
dense overgrown forest as quick as your legs can take you-
but something catches your eye from the thick shrubbery.
something almost.. shiny? it's quite enough to stop you in
your tracks.
the glimmering 'thing' appears to wiggle out of the bush,
revealing a scornful viscet covered from head to torso with
what looks like sharp vines made out of gold?!
"how did that get there?!"
the viscet looks you dead in the eye, opening its jaws as if
it were going to say something.


the viscet’s long, white teeth shine like porcelain in the
dusk. it begins to produce a terrible noise- shuddering and
shaking as you tremble. you quickly realize it is retching.
soon enough, a thick, glimmering substance oozes its way
down the creature’s throat. it appears almost like... molten
gold. the goo drips out of its mouth and pools on the floor
beneath it. you take a step back, horrified. the thing
looks at you, its pupils small and staring, pleading.

[ wip ]

[G1 Sunstreaker]

oh man I'm in love.

res with being some sort of mafia/crime boss whose followers turned on him. the golden vines were given as a false gift (he's got a love for things that are gold) and actually either a. drain his life away with only one way to replenish it (undecided how) or b. are meant to ensnare him but he broke through they were meant to trap him and then drain away his life but he broke a crucial part of them before they could. that's why the pieces wrapped around his horns are leaking.
-vines are a magical item ordered from a witch/sorceress, made specifically for him
-can't remove them now and honestly not sure if he wants to
-name he was known by is King Midas

Username || G1 Sunstreaker
Name || Aulelio Rocco Agnelli
Gender || Male
Cᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇ ᴛʜᴇ Sᴛᴏʀʏ.

She knew it had been a bad idea from the start.
What sane creature, after all, would even consider playing hunt, at night, in the black of the densely overgrown forest that bordered their town, without flashlights? Surely one of them had felt some sort of niggling doubt that perhaps this wasn't the most intelligent of ideas.
Leia shifted her weight slightly as she ducked beneath a low branch and made an uncomfortable noise in the back of her throat. It felt weird being the sensible one.
If nothing else, at least the moon was bright. Its watery light trickled through the forest canopy, illuminating her way and highlighting clusters of scribbly grass and small, pale flowers. The trees, though broad and numerous, were straight and well-spaced, and more than once she spied a little squirrel hole pockmarking the gnarled bark.
Her paws crunched over twigs and rocks with every step. Irritably, she flicked her paw at a passing fly.
"I swear, if any of them are lost in here, I'm gonna leave them overnight," she grumbled to herself.
"They are."
She froze.
The voice was strange. It was hollow, thin, but somehow rich, a deep,
satiny tone that vibrated into the air around her. Immediately she lowered herself to a defensive crouch, her tail stiffening as her hackles rose.
"Who's there?" she demanded, her heart rate accelerating as her gaze darted between the surrounding trees.
From a nearby clump of brush came a rustle. Quietly, Leia began to sidestep, lifting her lips to curl over her teeth as she stared at the greenery. Her tail swung noiselessly through the air as she flexed her toes.
"Show yourself!" she snapped.
Immediately a black shape began from overtop of the brush. Something bright and golden flashed in the darkness, and as the shape lifted fully from the brush, Leia realized they were thick, reflective vines.
And they were wrapped around the form of a viscet.
A cool, unreadable expression met her from within a pair of golden eyes, deepset beneath a thick black brow and framed by bold lashes. His mane was the same liquid shade. As she took him in, her gaze focused on his chest; she realized there was a soft glow emanating from the ball, heart-shaped marking that resided there. The vines themselves, thorned with thick, evil points, flashed with a metallic sheen in the moon's light, and for a moment she wondered if they really were solid gold.
Oddly enough, the vines weren't his most striking features. No, those were the pure black horns protruding from his head and shoulders,
tapering off into sharp tips over his neck and back. They bent over his skull and lined the bridge of his nose, and when his tail swept into view from behind his legs, she realized there were sets of them on its base as well.
As she stared, the black viscet lifted himself to his full height, watching her with a certain level of contempt. His ears lowered slightly, and as he dipped his muzzle, he met her stare intensely.
Leia remained still and silent. She felt suddenly small beneath the stranger's gaze.
"Who are you," she whispered, "and what are those?"
For a long moment the black viscet did nothing. Leia bit down sharply on the urge to squirm beneath the unwavering stare.
His head tilted slightly.
"I will help you find your foolish friends. And I will tell you what these are."
He took a sudden step forward, and Leia tensed as he brought himself near her face and studied her eyes.
"But you will give me something in return."
The chill that raced up her spine was visible. "W-what?"
His eyes were hard. "Nothing is free, girl."
The few around them was deafening. Leia's blood pulsed loudly in her ears, and over the stifling din she could hear her own breathing, sharp and shallow, erratic exhales leaving her open mouth.
"Then...what do you want?" she said finally, her ears nearly flat against her head.
A victorious grin curled across the black viscet's face.
"Somewhere to stay."
What.
"Ss...somewhere to...to stay?" she repeated.
The grin faded immediately, replaced by an irritable scowl. "I have no patience for questions. Either you will help me or you will forget you ever saw me. If you do neither, you will not leave this forest alive."
Despite the fear that surged in her chest, a sudden rage bubbled up from Leia's gut. How dare he?
"And how do I know you will not kill my family?" she demanded, taking a step towards the black viscet fiercely. "My friends? You were spying on me from inside a bush in a forest in the dead of night. What have you given me to suggest you are anything but a murderer playing out some deranged scheme?"
The stranger lifted his head, leaning back as he considered her for a long moment. She was trembling, but told herself to hold her ground. Fear would get her nowhere.
A rumbling exhale came from the larger viscet. The golden eyes closed,
and Leia shifted her weight nervously as the line of his mouth deepened back into that impatient scowl. "Very well. Your logic is sound. I will tell you who I am and why I am here. This is the most I will do before you will make your decision."
Turning his head, the black viscet swivels on his heel and begins to move,
his tail brushing past.
"We will move as we talk. Your friends are still out there, are they not?"
As she scurries to follow, she asks, "Fine, but what's your name? I'm not going to call you creepy vine stranger."
There is a pause before he answers.
"My name is Aulelio, and you are now the only living creature besides myself who knows this."

He began in Chicago.
The city wasn’t perfect. With a past and present riddled with crime, its track record was far from perfect. With a glaring lack of a police force, it wasn’t terribly difficult for organized crime to take its place. Bands of criminals and convicts grouped together and elected leaders, vicious, bloodthirsty viscets who would rather die than see their purpose unfulfilled. The sublayers of the already-precarious society were dominated, in particular, by one such group.
King Midas, they’d whisper. The name was known by all who dealt in the underbelly of the city’s workings, by those who hated him, by those who revered him. He was the one who made the rules and kept them. Break them, and he would see to you personally.
He was ruthless, calculating, at times merciless. Stray too far from the safer streets and you’d hear of him everywhere you went.
He was the king.
Tall, one viscet with a navy mane and blazing violet eyes describes, his gaze darting side to side as he licks his lips. Big. Mean. He’s got these...these great, gold eyes that stare at you hard, and these freaky black horns growin’ up all outta his body. He’s the devil, he is, and I’d rather starve on the streets than have him see to my end.
And with no further words, the viscet disappears into the black shadows of the alley that winds between the butcher and the bakery.

If it weren’t for the sound-proofing in the walls, the entire building would have heard the screams.
“No! Please! No, no please, I--I’m telling the truth!”
The distinct sound of something being dragged across concrete was accentuated by the claws that scraped across the same surface. Doors, creaking loudly, swung open, revealing a lavishly furnished room lit only by the single sputtering fluorescent light that hung above.
As the blue viscet continued to cry to be released, a golden chalice was lowered from a black muzzle. Rich golden irises lifted slowly, almost in boredom, and watched as the two sturdily built viscets dressed in black pulled the struggling captive forward. The amber liquid within the chalice slopped against its edges as white paws dashed with gold began to swirl the cup idly.
The captive is thrown on the ground, and as he lifts his head, the feet of the great black-and-gold viscet that lay lounging upon the equally black throne shift into his view.
“So,” comes the baritone rumble. “The truth is revealed.”
The viscet’s nose, previously to the pavement, twitches lightly, his ears pressed tightly against the back of his head. “No, no, Midas, please, it isn’t true, please.”
The chalice is set down upon a small table beside the black throne with a sharp tink. Claws flex with the ease of control. The black-and-golden head tilts lightly, reflective eyes flashing with dim amusement laced with anger.
“Hm. Tell me, Oron--”
With a muffled thump a book is tossed in front of Oron’s nose. It lands opened to a page filled with words written in blue ink.
“Just how long how you been planning my ultimate demise?”
Panic lances through the smaller viscet’s tone as he pleads, “It wasn’t me, Midas, I swear, I swear--”
“This is your journal, is it not?” the King muses.
“Yes, yes, it is mine, but I did not write that, I did not write--”
Paws slam down upon the black throne’s arm rests. The sharpened claws clamp down on their edges and leaves jagged streaks in the polished marble’s surface.
“Oh then do explain, Oron, whose possession this journal that belongs to you, this journal that you keep secret and hidden from all others, has come into in the last few days, and furthermore who would dare to plot an assassination on me in your journal? Who else but you?”
Oron is nearly crying now. He drops his face to the bare stone floor in front of the black throne, his frame shaking violently and his voice hitching as he cries aloud, “I do not know, but it was not me, please! Midas, please!”
Lips curdle over porcelain-white teeth, and the great black viscet sneers as his head lowers. Pointed, gleaming black horns curl over his head and ears, spike up over his shoulders, line his muzzle, and with a furious lash of his tail, he leans in towards the green viscet’s terrified face.
“Leave him to rot,” he hisses.
Oron can only stutter as the muscled viscets from before are suddenly at his side. His forelegs are hauled upwards and slung into the iron grip of the henchmen, and his torso dips backwards as they begin to walk. He does not struggle as his hindquarters drag roughly across the uneven stone.
The doors close over his stricken expression.
The great black viscet rises once more to his full height, his paws set solidly upon the stone hearth of his throne. Tail whipping slightly still, he lowers himself into its midnight seat, reclining into the back as his paw returns to the golden chalice.
“It would seem I have an opening for a second,” he murmurs almost casually.
From the shadowed left hand side of the throne a third viscet approaches. His paws are tucked respectfully against his chest, and his ears are lowered slightly. He bows his head reverently as he nears.
“I would be most honored,” he says lowly, his gaze fixed on the eyes of the great black viscet.
The chalice is spinning once more.
“You did well by me,” continues the larger. “Had you not discovered this journal, there would have been more deaths than I care to replace.”
“I am only following the duty of my loyalty, sir,” confesses the green viscet humbly.
“Then your loyalty shall be rewarded.”
The black viscet slings his foreleg over the edge of the throne and eyes the smaller viscet, calmly taking stock of the still green form. “Welcome, second shoulder Livio.”
Livio smiles from behind the King’s back, a wide, grinning thing that stretches across his face in malicious glee. Absently, he plays with the blue pen tucked against his chest, and his tail swivels silently in the darkness.
“Thank you, my King.”

“King Midas?”
From the moon’s beaming light, Leia could see Aulelio’s golden gaze harden. The forest had thinned no more than her companion had smiled, but the soft illumination remained steady, filtering down through the trees in beams that streaked down onto the forest floor in a myriad of pale patches.
“Yes. It was my title. It is dangerous for my real name to be known for the risk of it being shared.”
Leia flashed him a sharp look. “Then why did you tell me?”
“It was necessary to have the slightest chance of gaining your trust.”
She frowned, but settled. It was a good enough answer as any, she supposed.
“Alright, well...it sounds believable enough. I’ve never been to Chicago, but I know all about its reputation. My only question is why King Midas?” Leia paused a moment to pick her way over a tangle of tree roots protruding through the pale dirt. Aulelio glanced downwards, lifted one of his legs, and stepped over the whole section of ground. She was reminded suddenly of their notable difference in size.
“Ah, and by that I mean why choose that as your name? It seems a little...presumptuous, doesn’t it? King Midas was a greedy old king from Greek mythology who--”
“Who turned his daughter to gold, yes, I’m aware,” he responded drily. “I know the legend. I didn’t pick my name; it was coined by one of my original followers. In a way the name speaks for itself. I love gold, I crave gold, I am gold.”
Aulelio’s lips curdled mildly over his teeth, a disgusted scowl painting his features. “I suppose it’s merely insult to injury that these cursed vines are the same hue.”
Leia broke into a trot as the larger viscet’s pace increased. He was apparently more agitated than she’d thought. “Okay, slimy traitor in your midst dealt with, what goes wrong? You still haven’t told me anything other than what sounds like the opposite of a problem.”
“Still your tongue, girl,” he snapped. “I am getting there.”
“Fine, but what happened to Oron? What did you do with him?”
“He was locked in our confinement chambers in the very lowest layer of the sublevels.”
Leia shivered. What a fate to have.
“He is likely still there, if Livio has not killed him yet,” Aulelio added in a mutter.
Confusion rose in Leia. She opened her mouth to speak, but the larger viscet beat her to it as he continued, “Livio...was a relatively new addition. He had come from seemingly thin air, with no history and no relatives or acquaintances to be spoken of. It seemed largely suspicious at first, but it became increasingly clear how beneficial it was to be in possession of an asset with no ties to any but yourself.”
The moon’s light began to fade. Averting her gaze from her companion, Leia tilted her chin upwards and gazed at the clouded wisps that were trailing across the bright white circle of the moon, playing in its silhouette as they raced along. How late was it now? And where in the hell were her friends?
“With the discovery of an assassination plot, I was wary for several days. Weeks, even. My vigilance was necessary; I had no idea if he intended to work alone or with accomplices, and I didn’t feel pressed to determine his intentions. So long as I lived, I did not care who loved or hated me.”
Aulelio paused, slowing slightly in his step. Leia eased back into a brisk walk as he did so, watching him silently.
“I suppose it still wasn’t enough, in the end. I grew cocky, eventually; success paired with high authority does that to the mind. I slackened my security measures, missed vital signs.”
His black ears lowered slightly as he furrowed his brow, gazing towards the ground with a distinct air of unhappiness. “I could have prevented the whole confrontation.”
There was a period of several seconds where neither of them spoke. Their footsteps crunched through the underbrush and the first few leaves of autumn shedding, standing out amongst the sounds of a forest at night. The clouds strung out across the pale image of the moon were beginning to clear, and slowly the light returned to its previous luminance.
“What happened?” Leia said softly, her tail whisking lightly through the air.
Aulelio lifted his chin, his eyes focusing as his jaw tightened and his expression grew hard.
“Livio revealed himself for what he was.”

The air is sweet and clear this night. Many an infatuated couple are partaking in a midnight stroll through the cool darkness of the city parks, their eyes full of love. The grass is clean and green, and the flowers, though closed for the night, are still vibrant and beautiful.
Far below, the freshened air does not reach the decorated room of King Midas.
His tail, flicking lightly ever so often, is draped over the edge of his red-silk sheets, where he has sprawled like a great cat across its plush surface. In his paws is a single coin. Back and forth he rolls it, observing its reflective surface
From the hallway comes a flash of movement. The King stiffens, his tail halting in its sway as his ears perk slowly.
“The marigolds are beautiful today,” comes the quiet voice.
Instantly he relaxes. “Enter, Livio.”
The door swings open silently. The green fur of the second shoulder of Midas glows subtly in the candelight.
“Sir,” he says smoothly, dipping his head into a bow.
Midas shadows the gesture, his golden stare resting solely on the smaller viscet. “What do you require?”
“On the contrary,” Livio speaks. He lifts a small mahogany box into view, previously obscured by the shadows of the dimly lit room. “I come with a personal gift. One specially made for yourself.”
Midas’ attention is wholly on his second, now. The coin is placed upon the nightstand as his paws swing over the silken edge of his bed and touch carpeted ground. “Oh?”
Wordlessly, Livio drops to one knee and lowers his snout to face the ground with closed eyes, presenting the box in white-padded paws.
King Midas does not hesitate to rise to his full height. He did not mind flattery, after all. Stretching forth a paw, he unlatches the crimson-brown box and lifts the lid.
When he next is able to steady his vision, the room is no longer dimly lit. An overbearing golden light is blazing throughout his quarters, flashing across his possessions with blinding vividity. Items are being thrown around the room, and he feels as if he is suffocating. It takes a long moment for him to realize the wildly swinging tail is his own.
For a long moment, Livio sits silent from where he is crouched on the ground, watching his King thrash furiously and hiss through the enchanted metallic vines that are wrapping tightly about his form. He does not duck when a golden coin soars past his head and thuds into the closed door.
Rising to his paws, the second shoulder of Midas stares for a moment longer before turning to leave. The crashing would have alerted more followers, had they not been long dead.
“Good night, King Midas.”
He closes the door.

Leia is silent.
"Livio escaped with the lives of many viscets. I only lived because I bashed the cursed vines against the sharp edge of my bedframe. The puncture was enough to stop the magic from killing me completely. I have not been able to remove them since."
Aulelio does not speak further, instead moving forward near soundlessly but for the crunch of leaves beneath his paws.
"Your friends are near," he says quietly. "We will reach them soon. Be prepared to answer many questions. I will remain silent until you have explained."
"I...am sorry," Leia whispers, her ears pinned low.
Aulelio turns and looks her in the eye for the first time since their walk had begun.
"I as well," he whispers. "I as well."

Fᴀɴɢ
Contact of his. Mostly neutral, so long as he can offer her something she can offer him something. A little bit friendly, if you could call it that. Really one of his only remaining "allies".

Lᴇɪᴀ Pᴇʀʟᴏɴɪᴀ Hᴀʀᴛᴄᴏᴜʀᴛ
One of the few viscets who knows who he is. She allows him to take shelter under her roof. They could very precariously be called friends, but they're too wary of one another--Leia especially--to really move beyond an acquaintanceship.

Fang owned by: mareep
dividers by: mareep

[rubixilam]

screaming because the event traits this year are wonderful oml
username; rubixilam
name; valerio, tobias, quillon, killian
gender; male
Continue the story;

write here please.. or not. whatever u wanna do!
QUOTES MAKE STUFF LOOK NICE THOUGH OKay

The night grows darker with every coming minute. There's no denying the fact that (name) need to get out of the dense overgrown forest as quick as her legs can take her- but something catches her eye from the thick shrubbery. Something almost.. Shiny? It's quite enough to stop her in her tracks.
The glimmering 'thing' appears to wiggle out of the bush, revealing a scornful viscet covered from head to torso with what looks like sharp vines made out of gold?!
"How did that get there?!"
The viscet looks you dead in the eye, opening its jaws as if it were going to say something.

The viscet had been smiling, and it fell the moment he saw the (brightly colored) stranger before him. He stood to his full height and looked down at her coldly, eyes dancing with an odd light in them. Several bags hung from his shoulders, and there were a variety of trinkets on necklaces, strings, and chains attached to the bag, his ears, his limbs. His brow was furrowed into a crease."What are you doing here?" His deep voice was quiet and he was breathing heavily. The thick canopy of trees above greedily held the little light the full moon emitted, casting the world below in a dark shadow. The (bright) stranger seemed frozen, and wouldn't move. She was fixated on the golden, dripping horns of the large viscet in front of her. He seemed quite antsy and excited about something, and kept checking over his shoulder with wide eyes.
"I, I-"
Something seemed to click in his mind as the black viscet loomed over her, and his shoulders gave a slight twitch. His voice was suddenly laced with urgency and hostility.
"You shouldn't be here, this is no place for someone like you." He checked over his shoulder again. Something could be heard crashing through the trees in the distance. The viscet stood straighter and a smile cracked for a moment at the corner of his mouth. It lasted less than a second, and he took hold of her arm and began to run. A large, scaled beast ripped down the tangled jungle where they had been standing not two seconds before. The bright viscet stumbled behind the black stranger, and ripped her arm away to better sprint alongside the stranger. The creature chasing them screamed. Both viscets covered their ears as they ran. The black stranger laughed, an exhilarated, adrenaline filled cackle.
"What did you DO?!" 
“I stole his-!"
The black viscet's smirk fell when the girl was swept to the side and slammed into a tree by the reptilian beast behind them.
“Oh,” 
He turned sharply to the right and plunged off the edge of the drop, landing on the ground by the (brightly colored) girl. She was breathing heavily. 
“Y-“ huff! “yo-hh” She coughed. The beast swept his wings over them, thundered down to the bottom of the depression, and snarled. The black viscet wasn't smiling at all anymore.
“You better give that back, boy.” Its dark, gravelly voice echoed in the woods, and its hot breath clouded the air it touched. Brilliant, amber eyes glared down, and a large tail lashed far behind. The female viscet had gotten halfway up by this point, and seemed frozen in place.

...
- had thorns for long time
- bitter n untrusting
- alienated as smol boy due to appearance
- fights
- blunt, lil bit cold, calculating, hesitant,


he found the vines on some sort of adventure (with a friend?) and found that he could bend them. the ones on his body are movable but the ones on his horns are stuck. he's tied to the gold thorns and can bend them at will or strengthen them at will (can remove body thorns, but not the ones on his horns). he wears them as a trophy and defense and usually doesn't take them off. It is smooth on the inside and does not hurt or poke him.

He's lost in many senses of the word and simply explores and collects things. He doesn't know what he's looking for but he's looking for something. Been alone most his life aside from an older viscet he befriended. Lots of other viscets his age alienated him/were afraid of him because of his horns. Family took care of him but sort of pushed him out/didn't include him as much bc appearance (?). Left family soon as he could and lived with older viscet friend. After that friend died he left and began traveling/searching for something.
Doesn't know what

[kamelgirl]

username; kamelgirl
name; hamon
gender; male (he/him)
story;


Fenris plunges through the thick undergrowth, heart racing as his surroundings grow darker. Night is rapidly approaching, and he really needs to get out of here soon - the forest had seemed welcoming during the light of day, but there are rumors of monsters in these woods, and he's pretty sure he wasn't hallucinating those dark shapes in the brush earlier.

It's when he stumbles over a branch and nearly faceplants on the path that Fenris' eye is caught by a gleam of light from within the brush. For a heartbeat, he actually considers investigating, but dismisses that option just as quickly. He's seen enough horror movies to know better, after all. Unfortunately, the shining thing, which has apparently taken this as an invitation, wriggles out of the bush, revealing itself to be a gigantic viscet covered head to torso in sharp vines gleaming like gold.

Fen's first reaction is instinctive. This viscet is, after all, much larger (and more intimidating) than Fen, and has some seriously creepy (if cool) things going on with its eyes to boot. So Fenris ducks his head, tucks his tail, and starts to assume a submissive posture before his brain catches up to his instincts and points out that something is seriously wrong here. "How did that get there?!" he bursts out.

The viscet stares at him with an utterly flat expression before opening its mouth to speak. "That's none of your business, child." His voice is faintly accented and very, very deep, almost seeming to echo in the quiet woods (which is also really cool - maybe Fen can ask the guy how he does that?) "What are you doing here?"

Fenris bites his lip, having forgotten his current situation in his initial shock. "I'm... sort of lost," he admits. "My family's probably looking for me, but they, uh, don't really know where I am."

If it's possible, the viscet's expression grows even flatter. Fenris feels vaguely offended. "Dare I ask why?"

"They may or may not have told me not to leave the compound," he mutters, unable to meet the stranger's stare. "But I needed to explore! You understand, right?" Fen gazes up appealingly.

"You're a fool."

Fen wilts.

With a sigh, the stranger spins on his heel. "Follow me," he says over his shoulder. "I will show you the way out." Fen perks up at this. Even if this guy is kind of a jerk, at least he'll be out of this place soon!

As they make their way through the darkened forest, the only light visible is the dull glow from the vines clinging to the stranger's horns. Despite this, the viscet seems to know the forest intimately; his feet nimbly find the correct path and never stumble, though Fenris trips over branches and roots every few feet. Fen eyes the stranger enviously for a moment before speaking up. "So you must know this place pretty well, huh?"

"Yes," the viscet says in a tone that clearly states the conversation is over. Unfortunately for him, Fenris has never been particularly skilled at picking up social cues.

"How long've you been here, then?"

"Longer than you have lived, child."

"Why?"

The viscet's long tail sweeps Fenris' feet out from under him with embarrassing ease. When he scrambles back up, the other viscet is looming over him. "That is a story far too old for your ears," he growls. Fenris tries his best puppy eyes. Once again, the puppy eyes are victorious, and the viscet adds: "I am confined in this forest as punishment for my crimes."

Fen falters. "What kind of crimes?" he asks cautiously, feeling the first faint stirrings of trepidation.

His fear is a weakness, and the other viscet zeroes right in. The faint moonlight glints off his bone-white fangs as he bares his teeth in a cold grin. "You see these vines wrapped around my chest? Every thorn is a viscet I killed." At Fenris' sudden, panicked stare, he adds, "Oh, don't be afraid, I am quite harmless now. The Shepherd saw to that."

The viscling shifts his weight from leg to leg nervously. Trapped in the woods at night with a crazy murderer - nice job, Fen, you've really done it this time. Thinking quickly, Fen runs through his options; he's fast, but not fast enough to outrun a full-grown viscet. Keep him talking, stall for time, the part of his brain that could generously be termed 'sensible' whispers. Fenris bites his lip. "So, uh, you kill people much nowadays?" Somewhere in the back of his head, the sensible part of his brain is sobbing into its hands now.

The stranger doesn't shrug, but somehow gives off the impression of doing so. "If I try to leave the forest, or threaten harm on another living soul, the thorns will tighten until I am strangled. I am not such a fool, child, that I would throw away my own life in such a pointless venture. Now will you follow me to the exit or wander in the woods to your own death?"

Fen stares mutinously at the viscet's paws, frantically trying to work out a plan of action. "Well -"

Before he can shove his foot in his mouth any further, something in the darkness growls. The other viscet startles, whipping around to face the noise. Without thinking twice, Fenris takes his chance and bolts.

Behind him, Fen can hear the viscet snarling, but his brief moment of distraction gave Fen all the time he needed. Now, he uses his head start for all it's worth, scurrying beneath low-hanging branches and taking shortcuts through dense brush. By this point, Fen realizes, I am definitely completely lost. On the bright side, the crashing sounds of his much larger pursuer have faded almost entirely, so the only things he has to worry about are the monsters.

As if summoned by this thought, a pair of unnaturally glowing eyes slide open only a few yards away, and nope, Fenris is getting out of here now.

He veers off the rough path and promptly trips over a root, falls down a ravine, and rolls helplessly for what seems like ages until he is abruptly slammed into a rock. For a few moments, he's too stunned to move. When Fen's brain finally kicks sluggishly into gear, his first thought is well, that figures. The second is ow.

Still, there's nothing to be gained by lying around, and right now he needs to get out of these woods. Fenris reluctantly heaves himself to his feet, attempts to shake off the dizziness (with mixed results), and has to sit down again. As he surveys his surroundings, he realizes that he's at the edge of a small, grassy clearing, faintly illuminated by the moonlight. It's mostly empty aside from some small stones scattered across the grass. In the dusty light of the moon, it looks eerie and almost surreal.

He turns back to the rock he'd slammed into and realizes that it has words carved into it. Leaning closer, he reads in the faint moonlight, "Seiko Fallon?"

It takes a moment for the realization to set in.

Stepping back, Fenris stares at the clearing before him with fresh eyes. The identical stones, lined up in orderly rows, stretch out across the clearing. On each one is written a name.

A graveyard, Fenris thinks numbly, blind panic tightening its grip on his chest. There must be at least twenty graves here...

He stumbles backwards in his shock, out of the clearing into the darkness between the trees. It happens suddenly; one moment Fen's on the ground, the next, large teeth close down on the scruff of his neck and hoist him into the air. For a brief, timeless instant, he remains suspended in midair, before he is brutally smashed into the ground. Something cracks and he only just has time to think yep, that's definitely broken, before he's flipped onto his back.

Looming over him is a creature out of Fen's worst nightmares. He can make out long, cruelly curved claws, an enormous set of very pointy teeth, and eyes burning with a sharp yellow flame, but the rest of this creature is an amorphous, shifting cloud of shadow - as if whichever spirit created it had put lots of emphasis on the scary parts but had forgotten the rest.

It leans so close that Fen has to press his face into the ground to avoid getting nicked by its fangs. In a raspy voice that is not a growl or a hiss or a snarl but is somehow all three, it says, "WHERE IS THE CAPTAIN?"

Fenris is taken aback. "I don't - who?" he asks, barely swallowing a whimper as the tip of one enormous fang ghosts gently across his skin.

"IT IS NO MATTER," it says, mostly to itself. "THE CAPTAIN HAS ALWAYS BEEN SOFT FOR THE SMALL ONES. HE WILL COME FOR ITS SCREAMS."

At these words, Fenris is snapped out of his shock and begins to struggle. Unfortunately, this has no effect whatsoever. The beast ignores his desperate flailing entirely and again lifts him high into the air. The jaws tighten until Fen can feel the warm, wet blood running down his neck, and the scream fairly bursts out of his lungs.

And then an enormous black and gold blur slams into the mass of shadow, sending Fenris flying into the air. His head hits something hard, and everything else is eclipsed by the pounding in his skull. Dimly, through the haze of pain, he hears someone say, "No... don't sleep, you little... oh for heaven's sake." Two blessedly cool hands gently grip the sides of Fen's face, an equally cool nose brushes the fur on his forehead, and the world is drowned out by a warm, golden glow, and -

<< O >>

Hamon breathes in deeply, glorying in the warm sunlight and the salt-laden sea air.

"Captain Hamon, the town's right up ahead!" Luke says, smiling gleefully. "Should we make port on the beach or in the harbor?"

Hamon open his eyes and surveys the beach thoughtfully. "The harbor," he says at last. "The military shouldn't have occupied the town yet, so there is no need for stealth."

His first mate salutes. "Aye, sir! Hey, idiots!" he yells to his crewmates. "We're going straight into the harbor! Get going!" The crew greets this announcement with enthusiastic cheers as they scurry around the deck, hauling ropes and angling the sails to the wind. Hamon surveys the organized chaos with resigned amusement.

As the ship's path straightens out along the coastline, Hamon feels an insistent tug on his coat and looks down to see Seiko, the youngest viscet on board at the grand age of six. Sometimes Hamon feels vaguely guilty about her presence here, though it's still many times better than the circumstances he rescued her from.

"Captain Hamon?" she asks with a (very sloppy - they'll have to work on that, later) salute. "How long are we gonna to stay here? Miss Candice says the gov-ern-ment-" She pronounces the word painstakingly, enunciating each syllable with the care it deserves. "- is chasing us, so we can't stay long, right?"

Hamon doesn't bother holding back a smile. "Of course," he says. "We will stop only briefly. They will certainly have guessed that we are here, but they won't have arrived until after we have left."

Seiko beams. "Pick me up!" She demands, propriety apparently having been thrown to the winds in favor of a higher vantage point. Hamon obligingly leans down and allows her to climb onto his back. They stand together in comfortable silence until the crew, laughing and joking, sail the ship into the harbor.

Hamon sets her down. "This will be brief," he says to his crew, striding along the deck. "The ship will remain in port for only two hours. You may do what you will until then. Please remember that we are being tracked, so do try not to pick more fights with elderly civilians," he adds with a pointed stare at Candice, suppressing a smile at the doctor's sulky expression. "Now get off my ship." The crew erupts in cheers and streams off, stopping to grab money and weapons along the way.

Apart from a cursory ship guard, the crew disperses immediately after they disembark. For his part, Hamon ends up at the nearest cupcake bakery. Luke has, apparently, foisted Seiko off on Hamon and ditched, leaving his captain to babysit the youngest member of the crew (who immediately requests sweets - Hamon pretends that he wouldn't have gone there regardless).

As he pulls up a stool to sit at the counter, the owner eyes him warily, but any suspicion is soon dispelled by Seiko's bubbly presence. While the other viscet coos over the girl, Hamon subtly fishes for news.

The owner, once distracted by Seiko and plied with a generous amount of gold, turns out to be a very forthcoming source of information. From her, he learns that the government has been trying to keep Hamon's betrayal quiet (they haven't even posted bounties; Hamon almost feels vaguely insulted), that they've been closely monitoring every town with suspected ties to the rebels, and that they'll be occupying this port within the next few days.

The last bit of news is particularly concerning, but it's not like Hamon can do much now, seeing as his crew is currently scattered to the four winds. Not that it matters much, as he doubts the government will be moving in during the next hour or so they have left.

Seiko finishes her cupcake (she manages to finagle two more out of the owner with her puppy eyes. Hamon is honestly so proud) and they take their leave. Seiko, who has apparently chosen the pet shop as their next destination, runs out the door while Hamon is still paying the shopkeeper. He grabs an extra cupcake on his way out, figuring he can give it to her once they're back on the ship.

It's with this cheerful thought in mind that he walks out the door and promptly trips over Seiko's limp body.

"Seiko!" Decorum forgotten, Hamon sinks to his knees, grabbing her wrist and checking for a pulse. He feels nothing.

"That's not going to work, you know," a dry voice informs him. Hamon's gaze snaps up to see a short, thin viscet with thick bangs that completely cover her eyes. In her hand is a familiar golden shepherd's crook nearly as long as she is tall. Only one Order carries staffs like that.

A punisher. Why is a punisher here? Hamon surges to his feet, drawing his gun, but stops short. Behind her, sprawled across the ground, are the limp bodies of Luke and Hart, with even more of his crew further back. "What did you do," he whispers hoarsely, then, with a nearly feral snarl: "WHAT DID YOU DO TO THEM?"

The Shepherd, thick bangs shrouding her eyes, radiates condescension. "You don't recognize the effects of your own research? Even though you helped developed the theory?"

Hamon stares at her in disbelief. "You finalized magitech," he says numbly. "The Bureau had barely mastered the collection, let alone the harnessing of natural magic when I left. And combining magic and technology was only a theory. How?"

The corners of the Shepherd's mouth curl up into a sardonic smile. "Try not to be so self-absorbed, former-agent Hamon. Your little arson spree at the labs set our scientists back a few years, but we have other bright minds than yours. You know, I hate your kind the most. Ordinary pirates are bad enough, but traitors -" She pauses to laugh. It's a cold, cruel sound, one that raises all the fur on the back of Hamon's back and makes his claws itch for blood. "You lot deserve what you get."

He'd been nearly frozen by shock before, but her words spur him into action. Hamon goes from a standstill to a lunge in a heartbeat, throwing himself at the other viscet with all his strength. His sudden movement catches her off-guard; they tumble head over heels for several yards before Hamon gains his footing and pins her to the ground. Their gazes meet - one wide-eyed in shock, one narrowed with murderous intent - before a shout rips through the air. "Units 37 and 38, move out!"

If it's possible, the Shepherd's eyes fly open even further. "No, wait!" she yells, composure fracturing as she struggles beneath him. Hamon only tightens his grip, feeling the bloodlust run through his veins. "Fall back! I repeat, fall back!" Her words are ignored, and then the soldiers are upon them.

The men don't stand a chance. Hamon tears through them like a hurricane, feeling bones crunch and solid muscle tear beneath his claws. They attempt to put up a fight, but Hamon, lost to the berserker rage and hungry for blood, barely notices them before he puts them on the ground.

One viscet - most likely the unit leader - attacks him head-on. "How dare you touch her, filthy pirate," the leader snarls against Hamon's ear. In lieu of a verbal reply, Hamon snags the viscet's ear in his jaws and feels the soft flap tear between his teeth. Their fight is something not remotely civilized, only raking claws and grasping teeth like primitive animals. It ends when the other viscet misjudges a strike, reaches too far, and Hamon seizes his opening and moves.

"Aasim!" The Shepherd's voice cracks on the name, and Hamon watches as she scrabbles to her feet to kneel by the dead viscet's side. At any other time, Hamon might have found it touching, but this woman has single-handedly murdered his entire crew. All he wants is revenge.

"Now we're even," he rasps hoarsely, his rough voice almost unrecognizable even to himself.

His words seem to snap the Shepherd out of her shock. Her face turns in his direction, her expression once again hidden behind her bangs. "Even?" she repeats softly. "Hardly." Before Hamon can move, she swings her staff in his direction, and a barrier of crackling yellow energy surges up around him.

The spines on the back of Hamon's neck go up at the tingling feeling of strong magic in the air, and he throws himself at the Shepherd. He hits the barrier hard, bouncing right off before lunging again. The Shepherd watches his futile struggles impassively from the other side.

She's on her feet now, the staff in her hand burning with eldritch power. "You have proven yourself to be too dangerous to remain among the civilians," she continues. "But you are not worthy of an honorable death. Instead, you will remain trapped between worlds, doomed to wander here for eternity, granted neither rest nor happiness." Here the Shepherd pauses, her mouth curling into a cold grin. "And as a suitable punishment for your crimes... I think your beloved companions ought to accompany you."

The Shepherd leans her staff against Luke's body and touches her fists together, muttering a quick spell over them before slashing at the air, which seems to peel open before her. A portal, Hamon realizes in vague horror. They've made a lot of progress. Though the portal appears to be a tear in reality - and Hamon's heard it described as such before - it's really a link, a magical thread woven between two sections of the universe. Still, it's a surprise to see the inky black creatures that tumble out the gaping hole.

"We call these Soul Eaters," the Shepherd says, watching indifferently as the creatures descend upon the unmoving bodies of Hamon's crew. "Not especially original, perhaps, but it suits them well enough. Do you know what they do?" she asks, turning to face Hamon, who is caught between sheer horror and homicidal fury. "They're the only creatures who come into being lacking souls. To fill that void, they'll take your crew's."

"I'll kill them all," Hamon snarls. Blood dribbles down the side of his mouth from his bitten tongue, but he can't bring himself to care. "Every single one, I'll -"

The other viscet's icy smile never wavers for an instant. "You misunderstand. When they take your crew's souls, they become then. You'll be killing your own crewmates for a second time."

Behind her, Luke's form trembles before slowly heaving itself to its feet. Blood still trickles from the wound on his forehead, but even as Hamon watches, it fades away into thick, dark smoke. The rest of the body quickly follows suit, leaving behind only burning yellow eyes nestled within a black cloud of shadows. It meets Hamon's horrified gaze steadily for a heartbeat before it turns away and bounds down the street.

"What have you done," Hamon whispers hoarsely as the screams of the townspeople begin. He's not struggling anymore; even with his limited experience in this form of magic, he can tell when a working is irreversible. The crew - his crew - are fading, one by one, to be consumed by these hellish monsters and condemned to a twisted mockery of a half-life. And Hamon, their captain, failed to protect them.

Hamon sinks to the ground and tries not to retch. "Don't worry, you'll get to join them soon," the Shepherd says idly, rolling her staff between her hands. "But now we need a punishment for you. I'm thinking thorns." Beneath her magic-infused fingers, the staff softens and ripples like molten gold. Long, pointed barbs rise out of the distorted mass and harden into place on twisted vines, coiled together like a deformed snake.

"And now the finishing touch - you were especially close to this one, yes?" Without waiting for an affirmation, the Shepherd stoops next to Seiko's limp body, shooing away a hopeful Soul Eater. Whatever latest travesty is about to occur prods Hamon into renewing his struggles, pointless defiance though it is.

The other viscet ignores him and places a glowing hand on Seiko's chest. Slowly, she draws it back, and a small glowing ball of pure golden light rises after it. It's beautiful, almost seeming to dance in the air as it trails after the Shepherd's fingertips. Hamon finds himself leaning forward almost instinctively, fascinated by its delicate movements.

"This is her soul," the Shepherd says quietly, with something almost akin to reverence. She draws in a deep breath, as though steeling her nerves, closes her fingers around Seiko's soul with a sudden ferocity and squeezes.

The air splits, fracturing with the release of pure energy that sends a burst of gold-tinged wind rushing in every direction. Hamon, sheltered behind the energy barrier, squints his eyes against the gale to see Seiko's spine arch as her body convulses. "SEIKO!" he screams, choking on his own breath as the wind tears it away.

A low chuckle pulls his horrified gaze back to the Shepherd, who is rising unsteadily to her feet, Seiko's soul still clutched in her hand. "This is yours, Hamon!" she laughs, and slams the soul into the mass of vines. For a brief instant, nothing happens, but then the vines glow gold, the soul's light sharpens to a blinding intensity, and it's gone.

The vines's glow, however, only grows stronger, illuminating the surrounding area with a steady golden light. The Shepherd only prods them, smiling when they flinch like a living thing and curl away from her touch. Then she grabs the whole mass and actually throws it straight at Hamon.

The vines phase right through the barrier without seeming to touch it, but collide heavily with Hamon and immediately latch onto his body. Within moments, he's completely wrapped in them from torso to head; a few even coil up his horns.

Which wouldn't be so bad, if it weren't for the thorns.

The Shepherd laughs as Hamon clutches the vines, desperately trying to pull the stinging tendrils off. "One thorn for every viscet you killed," she says, smiling hatefully. "And those vines are infused with a soul - they're not coming off unless you can find someone to destroy that soul forever. Are you willing to do that?"

Covered in dirt and gold and dripping with blood, Hamon snarls wordlessly and lunges at the barrier once again. The Shepherd sighs and turns away. "Fine. With the authority invested in me as one of the Order of Shepherds, I now pronounce your punishment." She pauses to stare him in the eye as she continues. "You will remain trapped in this town, accompanied by the ghosts of your crewmates, until you have been judged worthy of release. You will not move on to the next life until your judgement, be it in a week or a millennium. You are also forbidden to touch the life of another viscet - if you do this, the vines will choke you to death." As if agreement, the vines glow briefly before dimming again. "Do you contest this verdict?"

"Go to hell," Hamon spits.

Without another word, the Shepherd steps forward, reaches through the barrier, and -

<< O >>

Fenris' eyes snap open.

Hovering over him is - himself? No, that's wrong, Fen realizes. That's the creepy guy from the woods. My name is Fenris. Then, with a flash of panic: What the heck just happened to me?

The creepy guy - Hamon, Fen reminds himself - sits back on his haunches. "You're awake," he says. "I wasn't sure you would wake again."

Fenris stares at him. "Alright, I'm gonna need you to explain what the heck just happened," he says. "Because I'm confused as hell."

Hamon looks unimpressed by Fenris' masterful use of adult language. "I drew on the latent magical energy of these vines to heal you. Unfortunately, it also briefly connected our minds for a short span of time. Do you always pull such juvenile pranks on your siblings?"

Thrown by the non sequitur, Fen blinks. "Uh. Not really?"

"Is that so." Despite the utterly flat tone, Fenris is pretty sure he sees a gleam of pure evil in Hamon's eyes. "I must insist you tell me the rest of what happened when you attempted this 'whipped cream' trick -"

"No!" Fenris blurts. "Ah, no, that's not necessary. Anyway, I... think I saw how you got stuck here." The older viscet doesn't move a muscle, but it's that very non-reaction that lets Fen see how tense he is. Something about that sparks a feeling of sympathy deep within his chest. Evidently Fenris lost some brain cells to that concussion, because without taking another second to think it over, he throws himself at Hamon.

The viscet startles backwards, spines flaring in agitation, lips peeling back from bared teeth - and then he stops, staring awkwardly at Fen as the viscling wraps himself around Hamon's leg.

"What are you doing," Hamon says.

Fenris stares up at him, squinting his eyes in outrage. "What does it look like, genius? I'm giving you a hug. Stop being weird and enjoy it."

Stiffly, Hamon crouches to Fenris' level and stiffly wraps his arms around the viscling, slowly relaxing into the hug. Honestly, the way the guy acts, Fen figures this is probably the first time he's hugged anyone since his crew was wiped out. But the thought is depressing, and there's nothing Fenris can do about it by this point, so for now Fen buries his nose in Hamon's fur and hopes this is enough.

[4580 words]



holy heck im so sorry this is right under the deadline,, i can never write unless last-minute desperation is fueling me. and sorry for the length too!! wow