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forsaken
Posted 11-28-2017, 08:09 PM |
Rebel
Althea
Rebel Hunter
Female, 3.50
Meso-fighter
120 in, 33 lbs
0 ep
© Lou
Timestamp



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Posted 12-05-2017, 07:32 PM | This post was last modified: 12-05-2017, 07:33 PM by Althea
Rebel
Althea
Rebel Hunter
Female, 3.50
Meso-fighter
120 in, 33 lbs
0 ep
© Lou
From pits to ridge the distance spreads and together, they eat it into oblivion. The red peaks rise and fall, jut out at weird angles, it is home and Althea can't help but smile up at it. A kingdom of scarlet stone and a commander of scarred pelt. "Welcome home," Al purrs, adjusting those sea-foam eyes down to Bear with a wide grin, "what do ya think?" their front door is a cascade of burnt rock and dead weeds, a dead raven hangs precariously from a root that belongs to nothing, though it winds from the earth half way up a ledge. "I know it's not pretty... but it's ours," to her it is possibly the best thing in the world, it had brought her home. She sends up a call for her mother, lips sealing into an 'o' as her chin raises to the sky. It is short, urgent, she wanted to get the boy rested, show him around the ridge before nightfall. "My mother is commander, alpha of the rebels. She'll come down to accept you into the pack. She's a bit... scary looking, but you don't need to be afraid. She's a warrior, and she'll help me turn you into one." Al turns to Bear and nudges at his shoulder softly, if he'd allow, a comforting gesture, she knows how Charlotte can look to outsiders and she doesn't want him to worry. This was his home now too.

Bear I'll post with Charlotte after you and anyone else is welcome :) also Famine if she beats Charlotte down haha



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Posted 12-06-2017, 04:20 PM | This post was last modified: Yesterday, 12:37 AM by Famine
Rebel
Famine
Rebel Gamma
Female, 4.50
Ectomorph
40 in, 80 lbs lbs
54 ep
© Sylvirr
Speaks. Warriors, warriors. Always warriors, always those who bite and scratch and gnaw, those who gnash teeth and spill blood. But what of her kind--what of they who carry the salves and poultices? She scowls, teeth glinting in the pale light as the waifish wisp drifts in a crooked line towards the borders, towards the dark hunter who has hunted down a new form of prey. Hawkish and dark, eyes blacker than the deepest night set within a face of cracked porcelain, a wounded china doll who's beauty was long lost and forgotten, a veil of tear staining her judgemental facade.

"And who who who who is this?" And how much work would he be, now? How much effort would he cause the healer-- would he be as much of an issue as Roswell, or even Charlotte with her inability to not antagonize the mountain lions...

A grunt, a groan, tugging from her chest as she draws herself into a seat to examine him sharply, narrowed gaze and twisted limbs.
table by boo, graphic by sylvirr

Bear Charlotte










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