08-25-2020, 05:36 PM
ah, it was there: that budding hope of naivete or self-preservation. the only thing that kept argus' patience- sanity. Where there was one who turned there back: there was always another who opened the door to possibility. He reciprocated her open palm: clawed hand curling around him before she would begin her trail back inland, closer to the clan's grounds (with him in her grasp, to not jostle his sores any more, if he allowed it) : where a guru could berate them both for the youngest's injuries. The scent of salt came under her mask and flooded her senses: she winched, a slight shudder of her form as scales reflexively tensed. salt in wounds was nasty: it made an injury burn all the sweeter.
It was a common (favored) tactic: before.
his voice stumbled along his own name: And ten eyes blinked, slow in tandem with one another. "[glow=grey,2,300]a name is a name, Ezrakel.[/glow]" Argus' voice held no such tenderness, just a solemn void where she refused to show such flickering embers of rage: someone close to him then. a hint to his injury, or a mental one: both would need treating. Scars left to fester often did rot.
"[glow=grey,2,300]it is common practice, to change your name if you wish it.[/glow]" Argus hummed the idea: a hiss of a suggestion on her tongue. She refused the compelling idea to actually force her way into his mind, pluck at the injury and bury it deep, but only slightly. such cravings for violence- to an ally was not becoming. Such violence was hard for argues to move away from: once taught- never forgotten.
"[glow=grey,2,300]I have changed mine thrice, since I've lived within these clans.[/glow]" Argus hummed, the slight admittance was an open door, another suggestion to carry on- elaborate his own name, or his own history if he felt brave enough to do so.
It was a common (favored) tactic: before.
his voice stumbled along his own name: And ten eyes blinked, slow in tandem with one another. "[glow=grey,2,300]a name is a name, Ezrakel.[/glow]" Argus' voice held no such tenderness, just a solemn void where she refused to show such flickering embers of rage: someone close to him then. a hint to his injury, or a mental one: both would need treating. Scars left to fester often did rot.
"[glow=grey,2,300]it is common practice, to change your name if you wish it.[/glow]" Argus hummed the idea: a hiss of a suggestion on her tongue. She refused the compelling idea to actually force her way into his mind, pluck at the injury and bury it deep, but only slightly. such cravings for violence- to an ally was not becoming. Such violence was hard for argues to move away from: once taught- never forgotten.
"[glow=grey,2,300]I have changed mine thrice, since I've lived within these clans.[/glow]" Argus hummed, the slight admittance was an open door, another suggestion to carry on- elaborate his own name, or his own history if he felt brave enough to do so.