05-17-2019, 07:45 PM
C A T A L Y S T
[table]TW for cults, violence, gore, torture, death and murder
Derick Harris was a man with a mission. He sensed that the end of the world was coming, and he had a thousand different ideas about it. Some of his ideas were how to survive it, others were about what would come after, how he would ensure the best for himself and his family. And, of course, anyone else that would join him. He managed to assemble a small following, and he was quite effective at figuring out just how to convince people to join him.
Cat wished they could say they were different. But they weren't. Derick came into their life when they were eleven, shortly after they had fled the Young Rogues. It had been a terrible place, filled with violence and hatred, and after just two years they could take it no more. They missed their mother, they missed home. But the Young Rogues were nomadic, and they hadn't the faintest idea how to retrace the steps they'd taken in all that time. Derick had seemed like a kind man, at first, he had a wife and children - a son two years older than Cat, and seven year old twin daughters - and they had welcomed them into the Harris family.
To an extent. There was never any doubt about who Susanna prioritized in her life, never any doubt that they were just something extra. A person, a project her husband wanted to take on and so she took it on too. Lilian and Vivian didn't care for them, and they were the goddamn princesses of the household. They sort of bonded with Louie, though there was always some sort of disconnect.
The only person that they were really close to was the same one that brought them in: Derick. It wasn't long before he knew everything about them, the story of how they were born, their father's leaving, their struggles growing up and how they ran away and joined the Young Rogues, all that happened there and what finally made them leave. They still remembered the night that he looked at them in a new light with vivid detail.
They were in the living room, it was late and the twins had gone to bed. Susanna was in the kitchen washing dishes, and Louie was sleeping over at his friend Gerald's house. Derick was sitting on an armchair by the fire, and Cat was on the floor, reading a book. They were thirteen at the time, though they had begun counting down the months to their fourteenth birthday. The carpet under them was worn, and Derick had been wearing his reading glasses, having just shelved the book he had been reading. He looked at them for a long time in thought, and though at first they tried to ignore it, after a minute it became impossible. "Why are you looking at me like that?" They asked, frowning at him.
He didn't answer immediately, just considered them before saying, "your birth was the catalyst of the blackout." It took a few minutes for the words to truly set in. The world began going dark because they had been born. They were responsible for the darkness and misery and destruction that had set over the world. "Do you know what that means?" They had thought, that night, that they did. They were wrong. The responsibility only scratched the surface.
Derick started slow, easing them into the idea. He didn't immediately proclaim that they were a god, didn't immediately drag them into his cult, he knew he had to be slow and methodical. With all these new ideas he had, he needed them to be as convinced as he was. Eventually he suggested that they take on a new name, one befitting their station. Their station. That was the first time he had alluded to Cat being more than human, more than a sign. He suggested Catalyst. They hadn't really liked it at first, rejecting the notion that they should have to change their name from Scott. But over time, as Derick's hooks burrowed deeper into them, they began liking the idea.
Scott was the name of the person they were before. But now, in this house, they were becoming a new person, the one they were meant to be. A god. In truth, they never really believed that they were a god, and though there were moments when they felt the weight of ending the world really was on their shoulders. There were moments when they did believe that Fate had chosen them to signal the end, but there were also times when they didn't. They might have been destined to be born at the beginning of the blackout, but so were countless other babies.
There was another element to the lore that Derick crafted around them, one that came much later for it was much darker. The idea that their death would extinguish the sun. The world would be well and truly over when they died, and even though they didn't believe it, they'd never see it be proven wrong (unless the world ended before they died, but wouldn't that kill them, fulfilling the prophecy?) because once they died, their world would end. They didn't believe in Heaven or Hell - the latter undoubtedly being their destination if it was real - so they just figured they'd cease to exist. There was nothing after death. There would be no justice for all the people they had wronged, so the idea that they might just cease to exist was a sort of comforting one.
Once Derick had convinced them (to his knowledge) that they were a god, then came a very different kind of training, one that set in even deeper than the fake lore. He taught them how to act like the “god†that they were, how to deceive and manipulate others and convince them of the lie. They had to play the part, be just as convincing, if not more than Derick. And with some time and practice, they mastered it.
It was a point of pride, for a while, how easily they duped people. That they were able to convince their followers of their power so completely that they wouldn’t believe that they weren’t all-powerful, even if it was Cat that argued it. Their perception had gotten to the point that, between that and the information that was relayed to them (usually through Derick or Susie, depending), they were able to convince some of the cultists that they were capable of reading minds. Even when they said that they couldn’t, Honey would insist that they could.
That was one of the reasons that Cat had wanted to leave; they couldn’t stand how stupid and gullible the members of Mourningstar were, sold on the bullshit to the point that they wouldn’t accept the truth from the person they supposedly held above all else. But, of course, it was Derick that was the final straw. Everyone in the cult was growing more fanatical, but it wasn’t for no reason. He was stirring them all up, testing their devotion in ways that made Cat bite their lip in hesitation. They weren’t the mastermind, Derick was, he was the one pulling the strings and controlling everything. They were just the figurehead.
But what he wanted to do to those that failed his tests, those he deemed disloyal to Catalyst and likely to spread “false propaganda†(as if what he was telling them wasn’t false propaganda), that was just the final nail in the coffin. Perhaps it wasn’t the worst thing he had done, but it was still awful. Suppressing any dissent, any free thought, without actually culling the herd.
So Cat made the decision to pack up their things and leave. The night they left they only spoke to two people, Louie and Susie, the former because he happened to be in the kitchen when they were leaving, and the latter because despite the recent months of silence, in honor of their old friendship they wanted to tell her they were leaving. Then they were gone.
Susie had eventually tracked them down, but fortunately no one else had. As much as they hadn’t been happy to see her again, they were glad that it had been her and not someone that had actually been in Mourningstar. Now they could only hope that she didn’t relay their whereabouts to Louie or Derick. So far no one else had come to bother them, so they could only assume she hadn’t.
It was night. Mo was long since put to bed, Gav had just drifted off, but Cat was still struggling to rest. Letting their guard down enough to sleep had become damn near impossible ever since adopting Mo, between the paranoia of something happening to her or Gav or Cat themself and wanting to be awake if she started fussing. Before she came into the picture, it had never been a problem for them. They liked getting their beauty sleep, and never had any trouble getting it unless there was some outside factor preventing them.
They were trying to sleep as best they could, and they were gradually becoming drowsy. Gavril’s head was on their chest, one arm slung over their waist. One of Cat’s hands still rested in his hair, and the other laid on top of his spine. They were still getting used to this, in all honesty. They’d never shared a bed with someone for more than a night, let alone with anyone half as cuddly as their boyfriend was.
Their fingers traced over the ridges of his spine as they tried to get their mind to quiet. All was well, there was no reason for them to still be awake. That’s when the pounding started, loud, on the door below. They jumped, causing a muffled response from Gav. I’m the leader. They reminded themself. It’s important, yeah, but not necessarily an emergency. It’s fine. They started to slide out from under Gavril, not wanting to disturb him if it wasn’t necessary. â€ÂCatalyst!â€Â
Their blood ran cold. They knew that voice. He was screaming their name, pounding on their door. He’d found them. They pushed Gav off of them, none too gently. â€ÂWake up.†Within seconds Cat was on their feet, scrambling for their weapons. Gun. Should they bring a gun? Was Derick here to kill them or kidnap them? Their fingers closed around the handle of one of their knives, they pulled it out of its sheath and then reached into the pocket of their jacket, digits sliding into the cool, familiar metal of their brass knuckles. No, they weren’t going to face him with the weapon they despised and only carried so they could meet the threat of the Insurrection, they were going to face him with the weapons that felt right in their hands, the weapons he had put there.
Gavril was sitting up and rubbing his eyes. â€ÂCat?†He sounded confused and almost hurt by the rough awakening. Cat straightened up and faced him. â€ÂListen to me, okay? Someone is here, someone bad. You need to get Mo and go out the back to Molly’s. Don’t talk to anyone you don’t know.†They stuck the knife in the waistband of their pajama pants and took the gun from the holster on top of their dresser. They walked over and gave it to Gav, who seemed thoroughly worried. â€ÂJust in case. I’ll come get you when it’s safe.â€Â
He got to his feet and planted a kiss on their lips, fleeting but firm. The knocking was still continuing, with occasional shouts of their name. Gav disappeared down the hall to get Mo, and they headed downstairs to go answer the door. They paused, eyes shutting as they tried to summon the courage to open the door and face the man that had both saved and ruined them.
â€ÂCatalyst!â€Â
That snapped them out of the almost dazed state they’d been in. They heard the back door open, and knew that if they didn’t open the door, Derick would go after Gavril and Mo. So they unlocked it and pulled it open, their carefully crafted facade slipping away as they set eyes on him. It was all there on their face, just how much they hated him. Good thing it was dark. â€ÂCatalyst. At long last, I’ve found you.â€Â
They did the only thing they could think to do. They punched him.
It was with their bare fist, their right hand, but still, it sent him staggering backwards and clutching his mouth. He was shocked. They heard the sound of a door opening and closing - Gav had made it to Molly’s, good. â€ÂGet in the fugging house.†They weren’t going to do this in the street, where anyone might witness. Having the Badlands find out about Mourningstar was somehow less preferable to inevitably getting blood all over their living room. And if that didn’t say something, they didn’t know what did.
He opened his mouth, but Cat gave him a look that invited no argument, so he just ducked past them into the living room. â€ÂLook, I understand that you’re mad.†He said, hand still hovering by his face. Overdramatic. He was fine. He’d have a bruise, if he made it out, but he wasn’t bleeding or anything.
â€ÂShut the fug up.†They said, slamming shut the door behind them. He retreated deeper into the living room a few steps. â€ÂYou’re here to bring me back, yeah?†He nodded. â€ÂWell let me save us both some time, I’m not going back.†The idea made them recoil. No. They’d rather die than return to Mourningstar.
Derick lowered his hand and looked at them with a strange certainty. â€ÂYou’ve been away for a long time, Catalyst, you’ve lost sight of things.†He spread his hands before him, palms out. â€ÂBut I can take you back, things can go back to normal now. It’ll be okay.†Cat closed the gap and Derick smiled, spreading his arms like he expected them to want to hug him. Even if you took out the years they’d been gone, it had still been years since the man had even let them embrace him. After becoming their little puppet, they had only tried that once. The refusal had hurt enough that they never tried again. Hell, even when they were just the kid he had adopted, he’d given them very little affection.
They slammed their left fist - the one with the brass knuckles - into his stomach. He doubled over and clutched his stomach, a pained groan escaping his lips. â€ÂI promised myself if I ever saw you again, I'd kill you. I'd make it as slow and painful as you deserve. But at the end of it all, I'd kill you, and I'd be free of all of your bullshit and evil.â€Â
He looked up at them, that weird certainty still there. â€ÂHave you changed your mind? Will you come back?†How the fuck did he get “I’m going to come back†from “I’ve been planning on killing youâ€Â? It actually dumbfounded them for a good few seconds. Jesus. He really was in it, wasn’t he? He couldn’t even comprehend that what he was doing was wrong or fucked up, couldn’t comprehend that Cat could genuinely want no part of it anymore. After they’d given him no signs that they would ever want to return, after signaling pretty damn clearly that the opposite was true.
Cat stared at him. He wasn’t a stupid man, not by any means. Had he managed to fit his head even further up his own ass than it had been before? â€ÂNo…†They shook their head; the disbelief was apparent in their voice, but it shifted to firm resolve. â€ÂNo. My resolve is the same. Nothing will change that. You can beg, you can plead that your family needs you, you can try and manipulate me all you want. It won't work.â€Â
A small smile appeared on his lips as he shook his head. â€ÂI won't beg for my life, Catalyst, it's yours to take. My family will manage without me.†He was sick. He had to be, there had to be something wrong. Normal, healthy people didn’t just say shit like that. He got one thing right, though. His family would miss him, but Louie was what, twenty-three now? The girls were seventeen? They’d be fine, so would Susanna. Hell, maybe they’d even be better off without his Mourningstar bullshit. Maybe they could get out and live normal lives.
They stepped closer, bending a bit so that they were eye level with him. He met their gaze, that same goddamn certainty still there. They hated him just a little bit more than they had seconds before, something that they didn’t even know was possible until that very moment. â€ÂOh, I know they will. You know what Louie said to me before I left?†Derick gave the subtlest shake of his head. Cat shifted closer, leaving almost no space between them. â€ÂHe’d have me kill you.†More or less. It wasn’t like Louie wanted his father dead, he’d just been thoroughly indoctrinated in the cult of Cat.
To their absolute shock, a smile spread across Derick's lips and he tilted his head back. â€ÂLouie's a good boy.†Cat's lip curled; he was proud of the indoctrination of his son, glad that he believed the lies to the point that he was more loyal to the cult than his own father.
Cat stepped back away from him and crossed their arms. â€ÂYeah. It’s a shame what you did to him.†Derick straightened up to his full height, keeping eye contact with them. Unafraid of what was coming. Did he realize they were going to pummel his face first in hopes of getting that look off his face?
â€ÂAnd you?†He guessed.
They stuck their jaw out a bit and pursed their lips. â€ÂYeah. And me.†He had given them many a kindness, welcoming them into his home, letting them join his family, granting them a place in the world. But that place had rapidly become corrupted, and even if Catalyst had done little to nothing to change from the person he made them, done little to nothing to change what they put out into the world, they were still bitter about what they had become.
Derick tilted his head to the side, lips parting slightly in disbelief. â€ÂI helped you achieve your destiny! You are a god, Catalyst, and you're meant to be with the ones that recognize that!†The earnest voice that he used had convinced them time and time again to go along with him when they were younger, but no more. They weren't the naive kid they were back then, and they hadn't depended on him in years.
They shook their head as they reached behind them, pulling out the knife from their waistband. Derick's eyes widened at the sight. â€ÂBefore I kill you, I want to know if you really believed it. In me.†That was something they always wondered, especially after leaving. There was an adeptness to his manipulation that surely came from an awareness of what he was doing, but never, not once, had he ever acted like he didn’t believe what he was saying. Was that just part of the manipulation, or did he honestly think that Cat was a god?
A strange look made its way into his face, a bizarre mix of pride and smugness. It was the most unsettling face he'd made that night, and that was saying something. â€ÂBelief had nothing to do with it. I was right.†They're not sure what they were expecting, but that definitely wasn't it. It actually made them angry, that he was calm and cool, feeling vindicated as he stared his death in the face. Did that mean he really believed his lies? Or was he so committed to his deceit that he couldn't bear to let up, even for a second?
â€ÂYou aren't right! All you've ever done was lie, and if you told the truth it was a coincidence.†Their anger is boiling to the surface, and they're clenching their knife in their hand. They could do it now, do it so quickly and easily. But when had Derick ever made things quick or easy? He didn't deserve that.
Derick shut his eyes, looking as if what they had said had gone through one ear and out the other. He seemed weirdly peaceful. â€ÂI’m ready.†He announced. For a moment they hesitated; not because he deserved to live or they were suddenly developing a conscious or mercy. But because he wanted this, he wanted to die by Cat's hand and feel like he was right. They wanted to make sure he never hurt anyone else, they wanted their revenge for all he had done to them. But it was somehow tainted by him wanting the end result. Their moment of confliction was short lived.
They punched him again, hard enough that he fell to the ground. For all they knew this was a cunning manipulation; he was certainly skilled enough at it for that to be possible. Keeping up that awful facade while convincing them to spare him. â€ÂStop it.†They snarled, crouching next to him and pulling him up by his collar, holding the knife to his throat. â€ÂThis is it. Just fugging stop.â€Â
He turned his head to the side and spat out a mouthful of blood, some of it clinging to his lips and chin. â€ÂYou might think you can run from your destiny, but all you've done is meet it. You'll see your mistake soon. Maybe you'll realize that with my death.†More blood was bubbling up between his lips. Well, he was right about one thing: it was their destiny to end his life. However, he was wrong in thinking that they were going to realize that he was right all along… because he wasn't, and they weren't.
What happened next wasn't pretty, it wasn't pleasant. They punched him again, head snapping back and hitting the wall. His hand flew to his mouth, and they realized they'd knocked a tooth loose. He turned his head to the side but before he could spit it out, they clapped their hand over his mouth. â€ÂSwallow it.†His eyes widened in surprise and disbelief. â€ÂDo it.†That’s when fear entered Derick’s eyes, that’s when the man started to shake under them. They shoved him, hitting his head against the wall again.
Then… he did it. He swallowed the tooth. Not without difficulty, but still. They didn’t remove their hand though, not just yet. â€ÂYou thought that this was going to be a clean death, yeah?†They paused expectantly, then he gave a small nod that might have gone unnoticed where they not holding his head. â€ÂBut it’s not. It’s going to be slow a agonizing, a small price to pay for what you did.†They tilted their cranium to the side. â€ÂMonstrous deeds from the kid you made a monster.â€Â
They pushed away from him and stood up. â€ÂGet up.†They ordered, and after a moment he complied, still shaking. They lashed out again, this time sending him deeper into the living room, away from the couch and the entrance, to the part of the room they didn’t use as much. He managed to stay on his feet, but just barely. He straightened up, trying to maintain his composure as they walked just past him, standing almost shoulder to shoulder. They slammed their heel into the inside of his knee, sending him to his knees. Cat went behind him and kicked him square in the back, sending him crashing all the way down.
They dropped to a crouch next to him, grabbed his shoulders and lifted him before slamming his head into the ground again. The knife that was still in their hand bit into his neck under his ear, but they paid no mind to that. â€ÂI didn’t used to be this way, Derick. This violence. This wasn’t me until I met you.†They stood up and delivered a kick to his side. In the darkness it was hard to see, but now they were starting to be able to tell just how badly his face was getting fucked up. Dark liquid covered his pale face and neck, stained their floor.
â€ÂI was good.†They kicked him again, and as a dozen emotions they’d fought for years to keep buried came to the surface, it felt good, good to take the anger and hatred (both of themself and him) out on someone. â€ÂYou ruined me.†Catalyst may have embraced the person they had become, the one that killed and hurt, that destroyed rather than created, but that was because they saw no other alternative. There was no other way to survive in this world, and Fate wanted them to be this way. Change was impossible.
But oh how they wished that they weren’t this person, that Fate’s plans would someday take them down a better path. How they wished this man hadn’t turned them into a false god, hadn’t taken their limits and morals and stripped them away. They had been a child that survived two years of the Young Rogues without becoming compromised, but in just a bit longer than that he figured out how he could do what Miles and Tammy had failed to do. And there was no going back.
And yet, somehow, they’d been among the luckiest of his victims. The others had been beaten down and hurt in countless other ways, forced to do terrible things of their own. They’d been placed on a pedestal, literally held sacred. Their esteem had been built up higher than it should have been, but everyone else’s had been torn to pieces and reconstructed how Derick liked.
He pushed himself to his feet and they could see something in his eyes, something in his facade cracking. â€ÂIf you’re so unhappy with yourself, why not change?†He must be able to see it in their face because he grins with bloodstained teeth. â€ÂBecause you can’t, this is who you’re meant to be.†They hate him. They hate him so fucking much, they hate that they share some of his beliefs and they hate this helpless feeling.
Cat punched him yet again, and this time there was a sickening crack of bones breaking. Derick staggered back and clutched his face, leaving his stomach unprotected. They lunged forward, striking with the knife for the first (purposeful) time. The blade cut through clothes and bit through flesh. Derick cried out, and whatever they were holding back before is unleashed. They attacked, swinging their fist and slashing with their blade, not even caring if it connected.
It wasn’t long before they were both on the floor, in a growing puddle of blood. Self preservation finally kicked in and Derick started struggling, but it was no use. They’d done too much damage already and were at a distinct advantage. Several minutes passed before they realized his body had grown completely still. The realization made them cease in their attacks, but it did not make them still. No, that would require them to stop shaking and nothing in the world could make them stop shaking in that moment.
It was hitting them now, what they had done. Who they had done it to. Sitting there, in a pool of blood next to a ruined body. The ruined body of the man that had taken them in and raised them, given them an education. He had been a monster and destroyed the child that they had once been, but he hadn’t been without kindness. He’d been the closest thing to a father they’d had, after their real one took off and died when they were three.
He hadn’t just been a father to them, though. He had three kids, his flesh and blood, and a wife. Cat had claimed they’d be better off, but would they really? Sure, they’d lost the man that forced them into a cult, but they’d also lost a provider, a husband, a father, a man that through it all they loved. Did they know where he’d gone? Would they come looking for him? There should be no shortage of people to send.
He was a monster. He deserved this. He deserved this and more, so why did they feel like throwing up? Why did it feel like there were flames licking at the edges of their body and vision? The red cloud had lifted, but now there was this heat, this intensity. Like they were already baking in hell for what they'd done. They’d do it again if they had to. They’d do it again and be just as brutal. They didn’t regret this. This wasn’t a mistake.
They rose to their feet and flexed their fingers, letting the knife and brass knuckles fall to the floor, landing with a dull thud and small splash. Killing was easier, they decided, when you didn’t have any connection to the person you were killing. They looked down at themself, at the room around them. Well shit. Their pajamas were ruined, but as they took in the scene around them, they couldn’t help but be far more concerned about the blood-covered living room. Fuck.
It was too late for this. They were too exhausted - both emotionally and physically - to even think about cleaning this right now. It’d probably just be harder in the morning, but they couldn’t bring themself to care. They stripped off their shirt and pants, using any clean parts to dry their feet so they wouldn’t track blood through the house, and their hands so they wouldn’t leave obvious traces on everything they touched.
There was the dull awareness in the back of their mind that there was something that they were forgetting. They didn’t quite realize what it was until they got to their room and saw the empty bed. Oh shit. Oh shit. Gavril and Mo. They quickly put on the first clothes that they could find (which they were pretty sure was one of Gav’s shirts and a pair of pants they had worn three days ago but not yet washed), then they were racing next door, not even bothering with shoes.
//Wow okay, so that was 5k words and if you made it through all of that you get a cookie! This isn't open for ic replies but you can track it and leave comments if you'd like. The briefest summary is that Derick came knocking on Cat's door late at night, they sent Gav w Mo to Molly's, had a confrontation with Derick and killed him, then went to see their family.
[spoiler=IF YOU DONT KNOW NOW YOU KNOW && INFO && 05/17/19]GENERAL welcome to the end of eras, ice has melted back to life
⇥ Given name is Scott Mathew Darrow ⇥ Goes only by Catalyst or Cat
⇥ Assigned male at birth ⇥ Agender ⇥ They/Them pronouns only
⇥ Twenty-one ⇥ Born 11/27/17 ⇥ Sagittarius ⇥ Real time aging
⇥ Boss (leader) of the Badlands ⇥ Ex prisoner of the Badlands
⇥ Ex cultist (Mourningstar) ⇥ Ex member of the Young Rogues
RECENT EVENTS done my time and served my sentence
⇥ 05/17/39 ⇥ Had a confrontation with Derick and killed him
⇥ 05/05/39 ⇥ Survived an attack from the Insurrection
APPEARANCE dress me up and watch me die
⇥ Catalyst is 6'2" tall; they possess a lean and muscular body, one that has a variety of old scars adorning it. One of the easiest to notice is one that stretches down their right cheek. While not a scar, one very notable marking on their chest is the "BL" brand. They have two piercings, one in their tongue and the other in the cartilage of their left ear. They typically dress in dark colors (favoring jackets with some sort of writing on the back), and their hair is black. They're not all dark, however, as they have pale blue eyes that peer out from beneath medium-sized eyebrows.
PERSONALITY if it feels good, tastes good, it must be mine
⇥ Catalyst is ambitious, with the cunning and ruthlessness to reach their goals by any means necessary. They can be brutal when they feel it is needed, however when it's not they won't bother. They tend to be rather aloof and apathetic to most things and people, with some very rare exceptions. Provided those around them don't cross a few specific lines, they're content to leave them be, though they've been known to take an interest in some people, which seldom has a positive end for whoever their interest is in. They can be manipulative, and will often encourage people to make bad decisions. Those that stick by them will be rewarded, but those that do not will be cast out, as they've been outcast for their entire life and have learned to appreciate loyalty wherever they can find it. Even during the most stressful of situations, they usually keep a firm grip on their temper and keep their calm, though when they do snap and lose their temper, it is uncontrollable. They're remarkably observant, often able to deign much from subtle clues in what people say, how they say it and how they act.
RELATIONS dynasty decapitated, you just might see a ghost tonight
⇥ Molly Darrow x Austin Darrow ⇥ No siblings
⇥ Adopted parent of Molly Valentina Darrow-Lupei (Mo)
⇥ Pansexual/Panromantic ⇥ Very much taken ⇥ One Crush
⇥ Not looking but it happened ⇥ Rarely forms romantic attachment
⇥ Holds most people at arms length and doesn't get close
INTERACTION i'm taking back the c r o w n
⇥ Hard physically ⇥ Hard mentally ⇥ Doesn't let their guard down
⇥ Is most comfortable with close ranged-weapons ⇥ Dislikes guns
⇥ Brass knuckles ⇥ A variety of knives ⇥ Carries a handgun
⇥ Will kill/capture/maim in certain circumstances
⇥ Will leave things be in others ⇥ Will start & finish fights
⇥ No kill/capture/maim without permission
⇥ Peaceful powerplay allowed but they may react negatively
⇥ Dislikes almost any sort of touch unless they initiate or agree to it
[/spoiler]
I HAD THIS FEELING THAT YOU'D BETRAY ME ——————
IF I GAVE TOO MUCH AND YOU TOOK TOO MUCH ——————
there's blood on the leaves / there's blood on the sands I ——————
FEEL HIS GRACE S L O W L Y RUNNING OUT ——————
GIVE ME TRUTH GIVE ME A WAY OUT (I GOT A BONE TO PICK) ——————
[align=center]SOMEBODY [I]SHOWED YOU ALL OF THE HORRORS YOU WEREN'T BORN WITH IT ——————