When the days are cold // joining + intro + open

[Oliver Queen]

Oliver Queen

[justify]//response dependent stuff happens after the asterisks

The very first thing he was made aware of was his heartbeat. Then, he felt his lungs burn, as if they were on fire and would implode. Then, he took a sharp inhale as he opened his green occulars and began to cough as he rolled over to the side. He pressed a claw to his face as he fought against a headache and nausea. He couldn't remember anything, so he decided to start off simple: Who was he?

The answer came to him easily enough; he was Oliver Queen. He'd taken on the Stark last name too, but he only used it during formal events and such. Next question: What was he? He glanced down, and saw the familiar green fur. So he was still a griffin. That was good, he thought, with a sigh of relief.

Where was he? His sharp eyes glanced around and noted that he was somewhat high up in a mountain range, just on a rocky trail. More specific than that, he couldn't tell. It wasn't a familiar landscape either, so Oliver had no idea as to where he'd landed. Since 'when' didn't matter so much for the moment, he skipped to the last question: Why was he here?

He reached out mentally, searching for his memories, but as soon as he did that it was as if he'd opened the flood gates, as everything came rushing back to him all at once. Jackdaw and his motley crew of Bloodclanners had killed him. Oliver had gone full dark side. Oliver had died. He reeled and pressed a claw into his beak as he tried to come to grips with what had happened. The overwhelming sense of betrayal and hurt was almost too much for him to bear. The guilt was nearly as bad -- he'd deserved his death in the worst way. Still, it hurt because Jackdaw had been his friend. He felt as if he was being gutted by Jackdaw all over again as his stomach lurched and his insides twisted. It hurt so much that he curled up and nearly cried. Hell, he should've, but the tears just wouldn't come. He settled for silent and dry sobs instead.

By the time the griffin had recovered enough to think again, he took a second glance around. So if he was dead, was this heaven, hell, or purgatory? This place didn't seem nearly as bad as the island he'd been stranded on, but nor was it as glorious as he thought heaven would be, even if the view was marvelous. That only left purgatory, he supposed. Now he needed only to confirm his suspicions by finding someone or something with enough intelligence that he could communicate with them.

* * * * *

Oliver rolled onto his feet as he tested his muscles and limbs. Everything felt weak, and he groaned from the effort as he steadied himself back onto his paws, fighting against the fatigue, hunger, and queasiness in his stomach. "Hello?" he called out, his voice more hoarse than he'd anticipated. "Anyone there?"[/justify]

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When you feel my heat
Look into my eyes
It’s where my demons hide
It’s where my demons hide
{Demons by Imagine Dragons}

[QUIETUS]

[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 550px; min-height: 9px; font-family:; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; color: black; padding: 20px"]Death was an old friend to Quietus - a reminder that everyone was a ticking time bomb, just waiting for their chance to detonate. He'd learned it first with his father, that old fighting dog that had just enough in him to father a litter of pups on a dame before he died when they were only a year old (he remembered the sounds he made as he went, those pitiful whines that reminded his children that he was a dog first and a fighter second, and all dogs cried when they were hurt, because they all felt) and later when his mouth stunk with it, the radiation milking his canines until saliva turned to poison and anything in his jaws had been given the kiss of death. Quietus had once been a merciful dog, but now everything he touched rotted away sooner or later, and he kept his mouth shut with the exceptions of the coughs that dug their claws deep into his throat and evoked a tightening in his scaled chest.

"What are you doing here?" he was a straight-talker, simple and right to the point. He'd have no pandering, so all the stupid questions were set aside for something of more concern: what the stranger's business was. Quietus was not overprotective, per say, but a tug in his abdomen reminded him that there were starving children at his back, and he had the opportunity to make sure they were safe from monsters like this (like him, a voice whispered, but he shook it off like a fly) that could potentially do more harm than good. The dog was broad of shoulder and strong, his more-or-less long ebony fur interwoven with scales for where it counted, his oddly colored eyes narrowed in question as he arrived to investigate. This odd thing looked weak, but he knew the difference between looking one way and being another so he kept his guard up nonetheless.

[greyson]

Henri was a simple bird who had lived a simple life. He never had to experience any heartbreaking betrayals or wake up seriously questioning his state of existence. The only thing that made him different from most simple folk was the fact that he had become engrossed with the sudden neediness of the wingless beasts that would dwell on land. Unlike many of his kind, the kestrel had chosen to follow them and assist in any way he saw fit. Although many creatures and predators gathered, none had yet to intimidate him. Well, it was not until he caught the glimpse of an impressive but horrifyingly large set of green feathers. Henri, being but a small kestrel, had always been uncomfortable around larger birds of prey. They had larger talons, bigger attitudes and notably a much more powerful set of wings. They dominated the skies and Henri always found himself steering clear of such powerful, horrible avians. But those wings were far too big to be just any eagle's.

His beady eyes narrowed as he glided towards a branch and perched curiously down from the height. He felt his chest rise and tighten, lungs squeezing in psychological fear. It was simply in his blood, his inborn state of mind that rung the words danger in his head. As far as he was concerned, that wasn't a bird. It might have had the front of an eagle, but in no world would he accept that creature to be a bird. It was more or less a gruesome mix of two obnoxious beasts. And yet the eagle-lion (who he had yet to learn was known as a griffin) didn't look so healthy. Maybe it had something to do with the fur, or maybe it was because it wasn't walking straight. Henri turned his head to the side when he heard it call out in its confusion. Oh, the beast wasn't an it but a he.

But before the kestrel could even think of speaking, a canine had materialised into view and spoken up. He'd asked what the male was doing here, and Henri moved to a lower branch to get a closer look. He made no attempt to conceal his presence.

[spoiler=tags]GENERAL
henri / cisgender male / no alliance / adult

APPEARANCE
american kestrel / reference 1 / reference 2
• Henri is who one would recognise to be a stunning specimen with a body consisting mainly of honey brown feathers and well defined black speckles. He is painted in a grey-ish blue over his wings and head, and white feathers colour the sides of his face. Henri's black feathers outline his most prominent features, the tips of his wings and his tail. When he spreads his wings, it can be seen that white specs flatter his wingspan in a glorious fashion.

[color=#000]BATTLE
• underline Henri's name if attacking
• physically &. mentally medium-easy
• will most likely fly away from battle than engage[/spoiler]

[BETH]

Corban had lived a solitary life, with a few bursts of companionship here and there but he always ended up alone; there was absolutely nothing wrong with that. He didn't need people constantly around him, but here he was.

He struggled to his feet as he heard Quietus's barks, and limped along the mountainside that'd quickly become a refuge for clanners and loners alike. The thing stumbling around was green, with the front of an eagle and the back of a lion and it was big. It was also struggling to walk, and though it was speaking it did have a lot of meat on it.

But Quietus beat him to the punch, apparently content to talk with it. Corban's stomach growled as the cougar abandoned the thought of attacking this creature. Too many judging eyes and the element of surprise was gone.

He approached silently and stood next to Quietus, his eyes locked onto the green griffin. He was injured, this was stupid, but he was also curious and hopeful that Quietus would turn on the newcomer and he'd be able to leech off of the feast.

HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN? — [abbr=Corban - He/Him - Cougar - Left hind leg was gnawed off into a stump - Stubborn, nervous and difficult to socialize with - Medium-Hard Physical Difficulty]TAGS[/abbr]

[Oliver Queen]

Oliver Queen

[justify]It didn't take long for someone to find him. He wasn't tensed, but he was ready in case the stranger wasn't friendly. Oliver regarded the large dog as he spoke, and was a little taken aback at his very... well, he wouldn't call it rude, but it definitely wasn't a tone one would use if they were pleased to see a newcomer. Still, Oliver forced his best smile as he glanced back to where he'd woken up.

"I don't actually know. I sort of just... woke up on the ground. Are you -- is this place purgatory?" he asked hesitantly, but winced inwardly at the question. It wasn't possible that he had merely woken up somewhere else, and Windclan and Westeros were not that far off from his current location, was it?

A flutter of wings drew his eyes away from the canine up into a nearby branch, where he saw a bird. Did birds go to purgatory? What would warrant something like that, he wondered. It was a rather pretty bird, even if it wasn't very colorful, but since it didn't speak, he wasn't sure if he should bother saying anything to it, so he was thankful when someone else came over so he had someplace else to look.

The relief was short-lived upon locking eyes with the cougar's hungry stare. Oliver was nowhere in the fighting shape that he used to be, but he could probably still pack a punch if any of them decided that he was more trouble than he was worth. "I'm picking up a distinct pack vibe from you guys, I didn't mean to trespass," he said, as the griffin turned back to the first and only speaker so far.[/justify]

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When you feel my heat
Look into my eyes
It’s where my demons hide
It’s where my demons hide
{Demons by Imagine Dragons}