09-02-2022, 12:27 AM
Olalla G. Semenov
Male— Ardent— The Pitt— Bio.— Plot
The beast padded through the shadows of the ebbing sun, cloaked in the dusk's light as he stepped; carefully as he went. His demeanor was sickening, and his gaze was lifeless as his head was raised up, ears pinned forward upon his crownless cranium. Not by choice, though. No, if it were up to him, he'd have a crown as shiny as his teeth upon his head. But Olalla came here preaching equality, and despite that being so very long ago, he needed to keep his promise.
He was, for the most part, keeping his promise: of equality, of liberation, of a future brighter than his cr- than the dunes that sparkles in the distance. Olalla flicked an ear, a poor attempt at ridding his mind of these thoughts and began to mingle with the commoners.
The beast had moved out from the shadows of dusk and into the ring of Pittians that sat, poking and prodding at the fire. He had not yet gotten to know AlwaysDead, and in truth he assumed that she was like all felidae that stayed in The Pitt. Opinionated, impatient, arrogant, needy, with a sprinkle of selfishness. In truth, Olalla didn't want to get to know AlwaysDead, even if she was a part of The Pitt and a part of his people. He did not fancy cats.
LivingDead was a something out of a children's bedtime story to make them stay asleep or make them behave, always watching and always waiting. Ironically, she had kids of her own now. With Vale. Vale, of ALL creatures. It made Olalla think, LivingDead and Vale hadn't been too close. Perhaps it was a fling? Perhaps it was to get back at him, a secondhand burden even in Vale's absence? They were, by extension of Vale's blood, heirs in all but title.
Then there was Kold. Kold, in her twisted crown of thorns. In her self-loathing, in her beauty. Olalla flicked his gaze from the beast to the fire, and back again. Kold always had, in her volatile demeanor, something terrible about her. And yet.. The beast sat down before the fire and nodded his head in greeting. "AlwaysDead, LivingDead, Mr. Snuggles," Olalla said with a slight sniffle, disregarding both the Llama and the dragon. "Kold." His voice was heavy and hollow, low in tone and yet eager.
He was, for the most part, keeping his promise: of equality, of liberation, of a future brighter than his cr- than the dunes that sparkles in the distance. Olalla flicked an ear, a poor attempt at ridding his mind of these thoughts and began to mingle with the commoners.
The beast had moved out from the shadows of dusk and into the ring of Pittians that sat, poking and prodding at the fire. He had not yet gotten to know AlwaysDead, and in truth he assumed that she was like all felidae that stayed in The Pitt. Opinionated, impatient, arrogant, needy, with a sprinkle of selfishness. In truth, Olalla didn't want to get to know AlwaysDead, even if she was a part of The Pitt and a part of his people. He did not fancy cats.
LivingDead was a something out of a children's bedtime story to make them stay asleep or make them behave, always watching and always waiting. Ironically, she had kids of her own now. With Vale. Vale, of ALL creatures. It made Olalla think, LivingDead and Vale hadn't been too close. Perhaps it was a fling? Perhaps it was to get back at him, a secondhand burden even in Vale's absence? They were, by extension of Vale's blood, heirs in all but title.
Then there was Kold. Kold, in her twisted crown of thorns. In her self-loathing, in her beauty. Olalla flicked his gaze from the beast to the fire, and back again. Kold always had, in her volatile demeanor, something terrible about her. And yet.. The beast sat down before the fire and nodded his head in greeting. "AlwaysDead, LivingDead, Mr. Snuggles," Olalla said with a slight sniffle, disregarding both the Llama and the dragon. "Kold." His voice was heavy and hollow, low in tone and yet eager.
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I demand only this...that you join with me in building a new Rome, a Rome that offers justice, peace and land to all its citizens, not just the privileged few. Support me in this task, and old divisions will be forgotten. Oppose me, and Rome will not forgive you a second time!
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