[Akami-chan]

All Floc applicants must mark the main thread before adopting

The Flox are a species of floating magical foxes whose psychic powers have been sealed away since ancient times. Unlocking Flox with respective keys releases a burst of light or dark aura depending on the Floc. By adopting a Floc, you agree to assist in the mission to uncover the mysteries of their past. Are you up to the challenge?

You may only apply once.
Deadline for all of them: Saturday, May 10th

#18-#20 by winter
(winter & fireflii)

Code: Select all

Floc #:
Floc Name and reason:
At least one artwork or story of the floc:

*You may both draw and write

#16-20 have been adopted
See Archive

[scythe.]

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[Floc number] 17
[Floc name] Shirokuro
[Floc gender] female
__________________
[Reason for name]
{Translation: Shirokuro is the Japanese word for Monochrome. I found it suiting for this Floc due to her coloration and patterns.}
[Art]
{All by me.}

[ShammySlyvmin]

I'm sorry but I'm dropping out.

[Dragon Reine]

Possible reserve. ;v;

[NARANDA]

Floc #: 17
Floc Name and reason:
At least one artwork or story of the floc:

[Ardra]

Floc #:
16

Floc Name and reason:
Leilani
The reason I chose Leilani for my lovely Floc was because I wanted a unique, yet beautiful name. I searched names up for baby girls and a couple came close to me wanting to use them, but then I saw this one and I automatically knew this was my name for my babe.







At least one artwork or story of the floc:
Leilani watched carefully the red-headed woman who's heterochromic eyes were fixed on a point far off in the distance. The Floc was curious as to what she was doing, for she had this huge curved object made of wood and was holding it strangely, one arm pulled back, and her hand held a pointed branch. She blinked as the woman let the object fly and heard it whiz through the air briefly as it passed her.
"That, Leilani, was an arrow." The woman's melodic voice washed over Leilani, and her eyes gleamed with satisfaction. She kneeled in front of the Floc, her brown cloth pants and green tunic stained with all sorts of dirt. Holding out the red-wood bow Ardra smiled. "And this is a bow. It is what we Hunters use to capture prey as well as fight our enemies. It is not a toy." she explained, and the pink Floc nodded. This was her person, her key holder, so why would the woman lie to her?

Leilani had learned a lot from this woman, having only met her a week or two ago it was quite extraordinary. She learned to be brave, loyal, and to fight with all your heart. But Lei also learned that you need to be kind and compassionate as well, you can't just leave someone in need no matter if you feel they are good or evil. There is always a grey area, and Lei knew that thanks to this woman. Giving her a wolf-like grin, Lei nodded. Smiling, Ardra stood and motioned for Leilani to follow. "We will head on now, Lei, and I will teach you the songs and sounds of the forest and how to treat it right." Ardra began to move swiftly out of the clearing, knowing Lei would follow.

Lei bounced along after her, her green fox-fire floating around her. She would learn new things, but best of all she would do it with her best friend.

[Satiine]

Floc #: 19

Floc Name and reason: Cerythian - Her blue color reminded me of the word "cerulean", which I then toyed with for a while before coming up with the unique name Cerythian for this floc.

At least one artwork or story of the floc: WIP.

[prince.]

Floc #: 20
Floc Name and reason: Sky
Due to the colours and obvious charm, I named this one Sky. It jumped out at me.
At least one artwork or story of the floc:
Sky was born into a rich family. He was expected to behave well, but he was terribly annoyed of the constant crowds. He became closed up and unreachable. Currently, he seeks the right floc that will be able to have the key to his locked heart.

[jules_]

Floc #: 17
Floc Name and reason: Noir - a genre of movie, most of which are shot in black and white. It also means black in French.
At least one artwork or story of the floc:

[mawsoleum]

______________________ ▌│█║▌║▌║ lιĸe a мoтн ѕнe мoveѕ тo тнe red lιgнт ║▌║▌║█│▌ ______________________

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[ n u m b e r ]xxxxxxx
Seventeenxxxxxx

[ n a m e ]xxxxxxx
Eighty Three, nicknamed Eight. Frequently stylized as 83.
The design reminds me of how song Skin of the Night sounds. Since "Skin of the Night" is too long a name, I took the "83" from the band's name.xxxxxx

______________________▌│█║▌║▌║ нer вlood warмѕ and вoιlѕ тнere ║▌║▌║█│▌______________________

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s t o r y:

It's surprisingly calm when there is nothing to distract you, besides what your eyes see. I can close my eyes, though. Not many can close their ears, leaving them susceptible to noise overdose and powerless to shut out what they don't want to hear. I will never experience the drunkenness of a noisy crowd, or the tumultuous romping of young ones, or the stir of cicadas in trees during still, stale, searing yellow and orange and green summers. I can't hear at all, not the rain plopping on the hot pavement, making a haze rise from the warm earth and the smell of humidity and dirt clog the air. Not the honk of an aggravated horn as it yells at a tourist walking in front of it, slowly and leisurely. I don't long for these sounds, though. My quiet place is nice, safe, and what I desire. I hear nothing, but see all. However, there is one thing I'd like to experience that I perhaps will lust after for eternity, or at least until I die; the sound of fire. It teases me around my neck, dancing around like a little player, glowing bright like the neon lights that illuminate the sky circling me.

And I began a journey to hear fire. Training my ears to hear in general appeared to be the most effective and efficient way to learn, so I started by sitting in places I decided would be noisy, such as in the middle of a busy park or by the side of the road, or once outside a bar, but I was almost struck by a flying glass so I decided to leave that place alone. I strained my ears for many days at these places, waiting for some noise to seep through to me, but nothing came of my attempts. I decided that perhaps I had taken a step too large and that my head did not want to let in the sudden surge of sound, and I promptly moved to the quieter places in the city. Small shops on the outskirts of the city, secret corners of the park, not so busy, alleyways and bookshops. Nothing worked.


_______________▌│█║▌║▌║ ѕнe ѕĸιмѕ тнe ѕweaт lιĸe a new мιlĸ ║▌║▌║█│▌_______________

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c o n t i n u e d:
At that point, life became more monochrome. My eyes, which had at one point made up for my deafness with a brilliantly vibrant sense of sight, dulled. Colors no longer rushed to meet me as I walked past them, they instead stayed hidden away from my view, tucked away into distant corners or hunkering behind a passerby's bags. Things slowly vanished away, and after some months my eyes could no longer see color.
My world was deaf and monochrome.

They say that, when you begin to see your world in black and white, you become black and white as well.

My coat used to be vibrant. The colors were parading flowers on a tropical island, the markings were smoke trails from a cigarette, and I was beautiful and happy and at peace besides the fact that I couldn't hear that damned fire, twisting around my neck like a desperate gypsy dancer, glowing like a beast's teeth. That fire seared the color right from my coat, frightening it into some unknown place. My coat became a rain cloud, and my markings became the Cretan Labyrinth. My unhappiness was apparent, or so I think. I suppose at the time I didn't fully comprehend the intensity of my situation.

A year or so passed.






_____________▌│█║▌║▌║ and popѕ тнe вυттonѕ oғғ нer weт вloυѕe ║▌║▌║█│▌_____________

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By that time I had come to realize the complete pointlessness of my actions. There was no way to train deaf ears to hear, just as there was no way to train blind eyes to see. After all, it is impossible to proceed when there is no starting place to be found. So, after quite some time of threatening my tiny ears, I gave up. Well, rather, I gave up on the impossible. In its place I took on a new mission; to do everything else I could with fire. I imagined a noise, though it was probably terribly far from what the real thing sounded like, I drew the flames the best I could, I watched how they rang in circles around my neck, I thought of stories to do with fire, and of people finding and hearing fire, and I pictured fire in music and dance and all entertainment. It may have become an obsession of sorts by then, surely, but an obsession is far better than having no interests at all.


[4:11:55 PM] swagworu: the flox thinger is deaf and desperately wants to hear the sound of fire, and since they have fire ringing their neck they get very unsettled and stuff
and begin to see things in more monochrome colors, including themselves, and everything becomes more dull
and all they want is to hear the fire, but until they do their world will not become bright, both in color and attitude/mood,
again
write some of the stories about fire, the description of what they think it sounds like, and so on