YOU'VE GIVEN YOUR HEART AWAY / OPEN, JOINING

[bluesrock]

[align=center][div style="width: 520px; text-align: justify; font-size: 10pt;"]/ it's been so long since i wrote with this character,,, , ,,

It's been a long time since Vince had seen something like this. The largest settlement that had been placed in front of him before this point was the one that he had left all those years ago, a child bound for a future that he hoped would be better. Now, all these years later, he knows that there's nothing good out here. At the time the world had fallen apart, Vincent had only been a few years old, but his family was one of the lucky ones. Wealthy enough to matter even once the world had ended, his mother had told him once, as if she was proud. At the time, those words had made little sense. He had been a child holding his mother's hand, asking her who all the people in their yard had been. Later, it had made sense. Sixteen years old and realizing that his father was someone important, that people relied on him. He'd been far from a perfect son, getting into fights so his father would so much as look at him. He still remembers how sick he had felt when his father had shouted at him. The heat on his face, the twist in his gut.

It's been a long time since then, and yet only something small has settled. He's standing in front of a place that promises security and at least a modicum of comfort. Everything about him is sore and aching, particularly his hips and thighs, and he's tired of walking. When he stops, Vince rests the majority of his weight on the dented aluminum bat he's carried with him for the last few months. It makes it easier, but he still looks like something of a mess. Dark hair is messy and partially plastered to his forehead, the last bits of today's humid air leaving everything sticky and hot. "Knock knock," he calls out with some slight irritation in his voice. "Anyone home?"

[Diamond Hawthorn]

screms track

[WOLF BITE]

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[align=left][justify][sub]He had only been a mere five years old when the world has changed drastically. Of course, it made no difference to him considering the fact that he constantly lived in the dark. The lack of light was his home, his habitat. His father deemed him unworthy of having the pleasure of artificial light, so in order to get around the small room he was confined in, he lit candles. He had to put the fire out before he was caught so he wouldn't be punished again. The consequence? Putting his hand over the flame, his father watching him as he writhed and screaming for him to stop, but he just wouldn't.

Now, with his scarred palms, he could easily put it over a blaze and feel nothing but the heat. Fuck that monster of a man. Wolfbite inhaled deeply, leaning back against the chair he had set near the balcony of the apartment. An unfamiliar voice caught his attention, straightening with his shoulders squaring back. "What do you want?" His gruff voice carried, sounding mostly tired but didn't carry a note of emotion.

[SITRI—]

/ mmMmmmmmMMM i missed him track until I bring cecil back after his development scREE

[bluesrock]

[align=center][div style="width: 520px; text-align: justify; font-size: 10pt;"]/ i almost called him a cat, oh dear
+ !!! i'm excited to see cecil :0

It looks like they both had daddy issues then, didn't they? It hadn't been that bad with Vince. He'd been younger than Wolfbite when the world fell apart, but even after that, things on the outside had looked damn good to anyone who didn't see how his dad acted when he was done with work. Not abusive, not outright; he never left bruises, but the words he spat were like venom. The boy under his father's thumb had once been a proud thing, a bright child who took well to his studies, held his mother's hand in public, and always listened to the nanny. And wow, look at him now. A mess inside and out, hiding the worst of it with bright grins and some snark. At some point, he had taken to thinking of himself as the universe's punching bag, but the truth of the matter was that life could always be worse than what it was. He was always running, always moving on after a day or two. The only problem with that was that he kept carrying that baggage with him. Partially from the scars he carried, and partially just in his mind. He was the sort of person who could feel lost in a crowd even when everyone there knew his name.

The two of them had been through very different things, but he can understand where it left him. It was kind of funny, that two people could live their lives so differently and still come to that same conclusion: fuck that monster of a man.

The young man straightens up after the stranger on the balcony does, and even from the distance, Vince studies his face like it's actually of interest to him, tongue trapped between his front teeth. He looks kinda big, certainly imposing. But there's nothing threatening about him, more like he's just bored with the world. Fighting a wince and instead offering a curious tilt of his head and a smile, he shifts from foot to foot and then stills. "No interest in small talk, huh? Alright. Name's Vince. Guess I'm looking for company. There more people here, or is it just you?"

[rafferty]

/track
my son

[WOLF BITE]

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[align=left][justify][sub][ they both have daddy issues im crying ]

Daddy issues was quite the understatement. His father was an abusive, manipulative man who was so damn self-absorbed he hardly cared about his own son. Words like a deadly venom masked in sweet lies; he had a way with getting what he wanted. He always did, no matter what. Unlike Vincent, Wolfbite never knew his mother due to her abandoning him just weeks after he was born, leaving him in the neglectful care of a twisted human being who had a cruel way of thinking. He was raised by several women, those of who he had forgotten later on, up until he was five when he was taken into his father's care. He didn't understand why he didn't just kill him? Through the torture he had to endure, he would have much rather died than be put through that. No human being - no child should have to experience the things he had.

Not like the world was much better.

He didn't feel sorry for himself. Hell, he wouldn't be the way he was without his father's oh so helpful guidance. Wolfbite studied the other man with critical eyes, scanning every inch that he was able to see. He had a weapon; an aluminum bat, looking dented and probably... Used. The Russian's head tilted to the side as he commented on his impatience. He disliked small talk, especially when it was unnecessary. The world was a constant game of life and death, the choices being made putting a powerful impact on your life. He didn't have time for small talk. "Wolfbite," he grunted, tipping his head toward the stranger, slowly rising from his chair to lean his crossed arms against the railing. "There are more people, here, yeah. You can join us if you would like. This place is called St. Peter's."