The One Who's Shamed (Zidane)

[Deleted]

Albion Achelus

Age: 79

Male

IMAGE

Albion had spent too much time around other people lately, it was time to get out into nature and be an animal proper! Unfortunately for him, nature was a horrible thing. Especially this nature.

On an island called Besaid, Albion wandered through a fairly dense tropical forest. It was filled with fiends and hostile flora he didn’t recognize. What’s more, all of it seemed to gunning for fresh meat, of which Albion seemed to have plenty!

Having spent most of the day running for his life, Albion had grown quite exhausted. He tried and tried to avoid finding people, but as this particular jungle was just so rough and unfriendly, he decided to give in and found his way to a beach! Luckily for him, the group of people who were there seemed to be leaving. Albion kept himself hidden in a bush, not wanting to attract their attention in either curiosity or fear.

Once they were gone, Albion scurried out cautiously. He scanned his surroundings carefully with keen eyes. His ears kept themselves perked up and listened intently. The people were really gone… And not many creatures seemed to close in on the beach either. As the day seemed to winding down, according to the position of the sun, Albion figured he’d be alone here the rest of the night.

His paws left very neat prints in the sand as they sunk half-way in under his weight. As he drew closer to the beautiful waters before him, he found himself becoming more and more distracted by the ocean.

I spent so much time on the seas... I never even liked sailing, but now I can’t help but miss it. Missing---……home.

Albion stopped moving and sat, only a few feet from where the waters ceased washing up onto the beach, and remained still. He could only stare out at the majesty of the fusion of orange and red as they danced in the skies on the horizon, reflecting their light upon the ocean in an almost fiery display. It was breath-taking to behold, truly.

He had to admit, the view was the one good thing about sailing. He got to see a sight like this every single day. Albion had become almost co-dependent on this light. It became synonymous with his happiness, in a way. It was so incomparably beautiful but it would never last no matter how much you wished it to. As the colors faded into a darker purple, Albion noticed a ball on the beach a short distance away.

After giving it a curious look, he approached it. He gave it a sniff, quickly recognizing the scent from one of the men who had left. Must have forgotten it. Albion thought to himself. Well, since it was here... He rolled it up with the point of his nose, picking it up with incredible dexterity using nothing but his snout. After it was secured, Albion sat back down, and began to bounce the ball on his nose. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but it would make a nice pastime as he waited for the sun to set enough for him to sneak some food from the nearest town.

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Tags: @malix

[Deleted]

Jovial Prince of Thieves Sometimes there stood no greater shame than being unable to be who you were born to be, but sometimes that same circumstance provided you with a chance to live a new life, far from what was expected or built for you. It was a type of freedom, an independence of growth. Many called it Fate, or Destiny. These were the decisions of a higher being, snatched from your hands in the belief that you could do naught but squander a gift. But what was the point in living a life preordained? Perhaps there were some occasions where such a thought was comforting, but for a certain going rouge, the freedom the pick his path was most important. Stealing bread sometimes ended with more pain than the pleasure of a full stomach; oft times one made it back to the hideout covered in bruises because you were not quite fast enough to outrun the guards or the baker's rolling pin. Sometimes they made it back to the hideout only to be beat black and blue for their rampant disobedience for hitting the same bakery twice, and letting yourself get caught. In that world it was the survival of the fittest. Even still the rogue found time to laugh or have a good time. Life was harsh, the the next day seemed all the better if you could laugh a little harder the next day and ignore the aching swell of a broke rib. He lived his life the way he felt was best for him. Living in the streets was not always easy, nor fun. Though living outside the law gave them something to look forward to, it was a constant job to stay alive It was hard, unforgiving work , and sometimes needlessly cruel. To be that figure which stood in the shadows and watched how truly twisted the world was cause for one to flee far into fantasy. Tales of heroes born from rags or princes that helped the needy after seeing their world from the inside… They were the exaggerated tales of a child full of dreams. It was his quiet shame: this heartfelt belief, that there was no happily-ever-after. Even so he always fought. He fought Destiny and Fate and molded himself into the person he wanted to be. He had log lived with no past so had to build his world from scratch, as opposed toward the experiences of being born, raised, or even abandoned. Even with an ending like his there was always this unshakable feeling that he had followed a path and loved life according to another, bit he had lived his hardest. Though he could never truly regret any of it he still worried about his friends in this world of building darkness. Between the Heartless and Nobodies he found himself living between them, unable to help. Sitting perched upon the tall, mossy rocks was a young man watched as dreams were washes away by the sea. Though his head still buzzed with the ungodly amount of alcohol he ingested, the somber mood of the setting sun set his moods ever low. The rays had yet to stain the sands crimson, but the shimmering tongues of gold already began to set the clouds ablaze. The tall face of stone was dappled with emerald patterns, the moss part of the stone's history, rather than a parasitic growth. The moss would quietly erode the boulder's strength, just as stress would begin its ravenous trail and eat away at the boy's seemingly unbreakable spirit. The mighty stone easily cast shadow over the white sand beach, swirling light along the furthest most edges of darkness' reach. Though he fought hard to protect those close to his heart, they seemed to become targets of the derelict Darkness that began its rampage across the worlds. What had happened to his brother? Were they all victims of this snaking parasite too? How come he was immune to it, of at least it seemed least thwarted by its approach. Was it because he was not quite human? They were all really tough questions. What was hardest was being unable to answer them. How could he be of any help of he couldn't even help his own family, however distant they may be. His long, golden hair was bound back by a black ribbon, borrowed, as his was lost in battle. His gloved hands rest upon the stone as his torso hung forward to better view the rhythmic breathing of the sea. Down below, as the thin webbing of people dispersed a large Fang wandered in after. He watches as what was usually noted as a feral, murderous animal, began to play with a blitzball. Putting his hand to his stomach he began to laugh. It had been the first genuine laugh he has had since the battle. Even with all the trouble there was always the one, simple creature living its life. And what was wrong with being simple? These megalomaniacs, conquistadors and war maidens sure made things more complicated than they needed to be. Pushing to stand the rogue would dust off his hands. He looked around before kicking off the stony mount with ease. Not a moment later did he drop down onto the sands below. Standing to his full height, which was nothing compared to the Fang's, he pulled his lips back in a cocky smirk. "Hey, pass the ball!" He called out jokingly. Being a wild Fang it was to likely attack, bit there was nothing wrong with a not of exercise after boozing it up all day!

►TAGS: @albion~!

►NOTES: A wild troublemaker with a taste for games!

►SKILLS USED: N/A

CODED BY ELECTRIC OF GANGNAM STYLE; EDITED BY OUREX DRACO

[Deleted]

(Saruuuuu! Have Zidane hit it baaaaaaaack! X3)

Tags: @malix

Albion Achelus

Age: 79

Male

IMAGE

Albion continued to absently play with the unusual ball, his mind wandering through memories of days long past. The crew of his ships enjoyed a few games involving a ball while sailing, and Albion enjoyed that it kept them at ease while they spent months at sea and years from their family. The sacrifices those noble people of the Navy made were admirable, especially under a man like... The more Albion bounced the ball up and down on his nose, the more he began to question what those brave men were up to now. What they would say if they could see their once great leader as this...worthless hound. At least for the time he had become an outlaw, the people still feared him. Some feared him far less after he had become a drunk of the various ports he wandered to and fro, but even so.

Albion's thoughts were interrupted when his keen canine ears picked up laughter. He stopped bouncing the ball on his nose and instead let it rebound off and flop onto the sand at his paws. It rolled about a few inches away before the folds of the sand stopped it dead. Albion scanned around his environment to see where the laugh had come from, only to spot someone, or something...leap down from a rock. It looked like quite an unusual creature, though Albion had seen his fair share in this world so far. It wore clothes like a human, but they weren't of the same style he saw on the much simpler-dressed men who vacated the beach before. Albion's orange-brown eyes blinked curiously as the strange creature called over to him, the voice sounding like that of an unrefined young man.

"Hey, pass the ball!"

Albion could hear the humor in the creature's voice, plain as day, and was unsure what to make of it---him. It. Didn't matter. Albion stood for a moment and stared toward the creature like a deer caught in headlights for a few moments, before ultimately deciding to saunter a few steps, toward the ball that had been dropped. Albion rolled it against the sand and eventually scooped it from the sand on his snout, using a stunning amount of balance, control, and skill to keep it steady as Albion turned and with a single jerk of his neck, sent the ball sailing toward the little man-creature. It was a high, arcing toss, much like a lobbed overhand.

As the ball sailed between the two, Albion relived a few more memories of his past---He recalled once, heading to the beaches of his home island with his sister, caretaker, and fiance. The four of them had such great times together. Albion's sweet memories of the ones he loved were such haunting images now, as his humanity carved itself a hole into his heart before it was stolen. It felt as if it were just at the tips of his beastly claws, yet forever out of reach. Albion looked away from the man-creature and sighed heavily, his eyes drawing back out at the ever more nightly sea.

The waters here look just like the ones from home. The sight of those waves, the sound of them... I fell in love with the woman of my dreams while we watched that endless ocean from a throne of sand.

PROFILE

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[Deleted]

Jovial Prince of Thieves Zidane had not lived an easy life, even if he boasted about it. Sometimes he went to bed covered in bruises, disciplined for his rowdy behavior or ears ringing after Baku saw fit to box their ears for not hitting their mark. They had to be perfect when showing for the crowd, because unlike on the stage where you’d earn a few boos, out in the world you may never find your way home. And really, who didn’t want to survive and go back home where it was safe? He never went to bed hungry because Baku stole for them when they came back empty handed. They were never cold when they slept on the streets or in abandoned clock towers, because they had each other. It was a hard path indeed. But neither did he lack appreciation for what life he lived. People may have looked down on him and called him a lout, layabout and crook, but Baku raised someone who could fight and survive. He knew that there was a chance he would not live very long. He had since accepted the fact that it was how Genomes were designed. Their life was short, but it was not short lived. In his heart he knew he had to protect the others while he lived and knew how to survive in a world so wide and full of adventure. It was dangerous, but living going by what you knew from books or read on a screen was no way to really live. Your body needed to learn too. He knew now that was why Baku worked them so hard. On the stage the more you practiced the movements and responsibilities of a stagehand became second nature. You moved without even thinking. It was the same for combat or when it came to helping someone in need. Everyone had their own skill, but the more you polished that skill and learned the easier living became. Jumping from so high was second nature to him. He needn’t a net or to climb down and make himself look foolish, as if he was scared of falling! The thief knew how much he could take and took it! If the Fang tried to bite his ass, so be it! At least it was better than sitting around and feeling sorry for himself! He would not abandon them, the Genomes needed a sibling that had his head on straight. Kuja was sheltered and Mikoto was a bit cynical, but they were still growing. They just needed someone to box their ears and teach them how to fly! The rogue felt his boots sink against the sand when he landed, pushing the white granules of silt into folds of silk. For such a high jump he had not even staggered upon landing, his feet knowing the terrain from years of running around like a buffoon and his body knowing how to shift against every motion. It had been smooth, almost as if he was built for flying. It was a sheer drop, nearly fifteen feet in height. Any normal person would have buckled and met the sands with his face! His light weight and agile form prevented the thief from tumbling over in the sand even as it caught the toes of his boots. Behind him something seemed to be dancing against the wind. It was like a rope of sand, but slender like a serpent. His tail swayed side to side, adding to his stability and oddities as he had approached. He was pretty used to being stared at and judged, but a Fang didn’t look like it would be doing such judging, considering he looked like a goof to begin with. Tossing a ball around like a common dog! Zidane was expecting the Fang to run him down, or even snarl! But it seemed even wild beasts had to have their fun. The predator just looked at him, as if considering the options at hand. He watched as the beast dragged the ball closer and scooped it up. They were pretty well trained for a wild beast. Azure eyes almost glittered against the twilight sky, the beach always so calming. The waves rolled out, only to crash in again in a perpetual dance that was as immortal as time itself. The lull of it was foreign, yet homey to the thief. He had made many friends on these roads and lost many more. He lived on a world high in the mountains with people afraid of their own shores. Monsters mutated horribly by Mist and animals who had become rabid, no longer immune to the mental aberrations of the cursed fog. Even though the Mist was gone, the changes were all but permanent. He wanted to see his world like this! Living on the beach and not being afraid to go for a swim! But he had to fight…. he had to fight to make that dream come true. To see them happy, he had to keep running to their side, whenever they may need…. Shaking the thoughts from his mind he looked up, only to see the ball closing in, falling from the sky like a wishing star. The rogue grinned. Maybe they both had lost something and came to this place to find that moment of peace. He often sat on the edges of the shores with his Chocobo, talking to the bird about his adventures. He could see the dreams of travel in his friend’s eyes. Maybe this Fang was no different? He wanted to live in a new world and see new things. The thief kicked off the ground and used the side of his boot to toss the ball up in a spectacular show of agility. Making a full rotation in the air he landed on his gloved hands only to push back to his feet in a flip. Looking up he held out his hands to catch the ball. Always a show off, even if there was really no sentient life to show off to! He tossed the ball up. “You know this reminds me of a story I once read, I think it used to be a really popular play too…” He moved to toss back the ball. It would be up to the wolf to reciprocate the actions as Zidane told his tale… Once there was a prince who wanted to visit new lands, but he lived on a tiny island in a tiny village. The island was small, but it was quiet and peaceful. The people enjoyed living their days out on the sandy beaches. There were no monsters to worry about nor any natural disasters. But the prince wanted to give his people more. He felt they needed more than just the edges of their island. So the prince set out into the world with his trusty knight on a tiny boat. He traveled to the mainland only to find that it was fraught with war and turmoil. He met with the king of the mainland and told the king he wished to buy his land. The king, who was so desperate to pass the fighting along and no longer be responsible for a war he started, agreed. He gave the prince his lands. With an island and the mainland now joined, the prince ruled. He demanded to know why the people of the mainland fought. They spoke up: We have no room to live. But the prince was baffled. They had forests, mountains and deserts to live in! The deserts were too hot, the people complained, but to the prince the deserts were a warm as the beaches of the island. The woods were full of fiends. But to the prince they were animals that were hunted to become food for the people of the islands. The mountains were too cold, but for the prince it was like a night on the beach. The people had lived behind the safety of their wall for so long they had forgotten how to live free. So the prince knocked down the walls of the castle and set the people free. But because they did not know how to fight, or hunt, or even live outside the stories they had been told from their books, many died. In despair the prince called to his knight. His knight taught them to fight, but this was not enough. Returning to the island he brought back the cook, the fisherman, the seamstress and the sage. Those from the island taught the people of the mainland to survive, but it had taken so many years that there was almost no one left from the island. Afraid what remained of his people would die, he built a great wall to protect them. Those that had learned to hunt and live outside could no longer reach their prince, so built boats from the trees in the woods and traveled across the seas to find new lands. There they found an island and decided to live there in peace from the paranoid prince. Soon the prince became a king, and the islanders crowned a new prince… In the end, you could teach a man to live, but they had experience life themselves to truly grow and not become afraid of the end.

►TAGS: @albion

►NOTES: I have a family I miss too, but I'm not yet strong enough to stand by their side.

►SKILLS USED: N/A

CODED BY ELECTRIC OF GANGNAM STYLE; EDITED BY OUREX DRACO

[Deleted]

Tags: @malix

Albion Achelus

Age: 79

Male

IMAGE

Albion could only drift further and further into his thoughts. Into his memories. The memories of happier times. The weight of his past, the longing, tugged and weighed upon his heart and soul and threatened to once again drag him into the depths of his black depression. While that was favorable to the rage he had displayed before his loss, it wasn't a road Albion felt like traveling again. Entire days spent in the stool of the trashiest port pubs that would let him in the door, bathing in creeks when the need was severe enough, eating from the garbage when money was scarce, and then roaming on to another town or island to begin the cycle anew. That was the level Albion had sunk to before he left home...

It's not a place I wish to return to. Albion complacently thought to himself. With another weary sigh, he drifted a little further into thought. But only for a moment, as the voice of the creature with him spoke up and barely pierced his ears. He hadn't quite caught what was said, but he didn't think too much of it. He simply re-immersed himself in his memories and regrets. His mind shifted back to the face of his beloved. His nose twitched faintly as he recalled her scent... It was like lilacs gently drifting upon the ocean. Her face was soft, and her skin a darker tan color. Her eyes were piercing and strong, their beautiful bright blue putting even the sea and the sky to shame. Her hair was bright blonde, shining and shimmering beautifully in any light. Albion's ears pointed themselves upward, perking at even the memory of what her voice sounded like. It was so sweet, so loving, so calm, and so---Bonk!

Albion's eyes drew from the ocean, his focus on the memories shattered. In the few moments since that man-creature spoke, he must have sent the ball back toward Albion. It whacked the wolf directly on the top of his head, pulling him clean from his somber mood and, admittedly, bringing a bit of amusement to the moment. It was rare for Albion to become so lost in his memories that he'd lose track of his surroundings so easily. Albion shifted his orange-brown eyes toward where the ball had bounced off to, spotting it as it rolled across the sound a short distance away. Albion would have gone to get it, but instead, decided to listen to the story the man-creature had just begun to tell.

The story itself was fairly touching. Even as the tailed man spoke it, Albion had a feeling where it was heading already. Perhaps he'd heard it before on his travels, but didn't remember it clearly? His familiarity with the story wasn't really important however. He would simply sit and listen respectfully. The story in question, it brought a few feelings to Albion's heart. It was reminiscent of the stories his caretaker told him when he was a pup. The story reminded him of what it was like to be a child, and being sheltered from the harshness of the world by someone who cared for you... And much like the people of the island in the story, inevitably Albion too elected to abandon the person who wished to keep him safe. The story made him feel pride regarding the woman who stayed by his side his entire life, and shame for his willingness to abandon her so easily.

Arcthuria... Albion thought of the name fondly, but regretfully. Even now, his caretaker spent all of her time following Albion around and trying to teach him of the most important lessons in life. Trying to help him cope with the harms that he had wrought, and that had been wrought upon him. She wanted nothing but this wolf to be happy, and time and again, Albion spurned her. Ran from her. Ignored her. Mistreated her.

No more.

It was time for Albion to grow up. To take responsibility for all he'd done in his life... Even as he resolved to renew his humanity, and become whole again, he doubted whether or not he would succeed. But---I have to try. Albion reassured himself mentally. His heart hurt, and his soul felt incomplete, but he had hope. For the first time in 5 decades, Albion felt hope again. After hearing out the last of the man-creature's story, Albion turned to him and approached cautiously. As he neared about 3 feet of distance from him, Albion sat down upon the sounds, his back straight as an arrow, and his front legs ever-stable supports of his upright position. "Thank you," Albion spoke gently. His voice, that of a man in his early twenties, was stoic, but gentle.

"That was a lovely story. In a way, you've helped me to realize something important."

Albion shifted up onto his hind legs, his stance a bit wobbly but stable enough to work. "Yes, I can talk." Albion quickly spoke in an effort to quell any negative reaction before it could truly even begin. "And I have a name. Albion. May I ask yours?" As Albion spoke, he drew in his left paw and kept it as close to himself as he could and offered his right paw to the creature to shake, as a polite and proper introduction. Normally he'd have expected the other party to bend down and take his paw as he sat, but given that this blue-clad man wasn't too tall, Albion thought he'd shake on mostly even ground. When his introduction was finished, Albion returned to all fours, before quickly sitting back down on the sand. Standing up on two legs in a completely canine form was incredibly difficult, to say the least...

PROFILE

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[Deleted]

Jovial Prince of Thieves Although Zidane had left large portions of the story out, recalling the fist of it was really unnecessary, he felt. Much of the parts involving the young Prince fighting monstrous fiends was wholly disregarded. Though the fight scenes were great to portray on stage, he had only wanted to recall the important moral held in the story. Being raised in a life of peace or war did not matter. If you were unable to break through the cycle that bound you to that life, one was doomed to repeat the mistakes of the past. And Zidane was not about to allow that to happen to the younger Genomes. It was his duty as the older brother to respond accordingly to such things. Though he did nor think Mikoto needed scolding for the way she acted, he felt it was perhaps a bit extreme. Her emotions toward the situation likely got in the way too! But no matter how hard it seemed, going forward was the only way to stay on the board and be kinged! The rouge did not think the Fang understood him, but it was nice to verbalize his thoughts to another. Keeping his thoughts inside was hard, but even more so when you were the only one around. The quite, seaside scenery Besaid offered was nothing in compare to the loud, city life of Luca. Bit he had wanted to think and dwell on these feelings he has come to collect in the course of the past week. This world did not treat his heart or mind well. Sometimes he felt like he was lost in someone else's dream, others it was Nightmare fuel: parts of the world crumbling around its people. What sort of charming brigand was he if he couldn't even save a few damsels in distress? His own thoughts aside, when his tale had come to an end it would seem the Fang had been focused on the sound of his voice. Zidane had a high tone of voice that scraped at the edge's of a human maturing, but it would never reach the depths of an opera singer and he would forever remain the loud, singing voice that could tell a story across the stage without the assistance of an amphitheatre. It was a youthful voice full of cheer, even if his heart softly rumbles in worry over his decisions. A song of laughter danced from his lungs when the Fang's broken focus had meant the game was disrupted, by his face no less! The blitzball bounced off the beast's head and rumbled into the sand, coming the a lifeless halt. The young man, at this point, had wrapped his arms around his stomach to hold back the hysteria. It wasn't every day you watched a Fang have such a troubles face. The rogue's laughter had drummed to a soft wheeze when the Fang suddenly began to spoke. Blue eyes blinked the tears from his eyes as his gloved, left digits came up to brush at his reddening cheeks. He, at first, considered the possibility of having annoyed the beast with his baying laughter, the way silence came over the awkward moment (at least awkward for seconds before Zidane broke out laughing). Zidane crossed his arms over his chest thoughtfully. The way the boy's face showed such expressive facial responses to his thoughts showed he was holding some sort of in depth process of elimination. The thanks from the beast had been followed with a classical assurance that, as a being, he held the capacity to speak. But that was not what got Zidane. Now that he thought about it… this gut was fluffy! A lot of the Fangs he had seen roaming the Mi'ihen Highroads were mangy, at best. But this guy had a pretty awesome coat, that sort of reminded him of a Bandersnatch. The thief's right leg would reach back so his boot could scratch at his left calf. It was a physical response to the thoughts filling his head. For the moment that his leg raised back the curling limb that assisted in his balancing act was seen more clearly now, swaying to keep him perfectly poised. When Albion reached out his paw in greeting, Zidane had to resist to urge to give the guy a hi-paw five for the hell of it (it was hard to ignore). The going man took the paw and gave it a shake. "Name's Zidane! I'm the infamous Highway Bard!" At least in Spiral he had played the role of Bard for a time, travelling and telling his tales while robbing pilgrims blind! Ah, it was easy work and good practice for his skills. By the way Zidane spun his tale to the beast, there could be no doubt that there was the possibility the boy was indeed a bard! He sure seemed to dress for that role as he was nothing dresses like the islanders. Zidane settled his hands on his hip, his head held high. Even non verbally he seemed just as adept at boasting. His body stood with foolish pride! Of course he held a great amount of pride in his skills, it was his dignity that was left in the refuse bin long ago when he had to eat his first meal after it had been dumped. "I don't think o deserve any thanks! I was mostly talking to myself!" He laughed. "I didn't think you were listening." Though a creature's ability to hear was not directly contributed to one another as the thief would likely, deep down, know. He needn't speak it or love on that planet, but he could easily read Terran. The boy did skip a beat because the moment he told the speaking wolf he had no reason for thanks, a question would be offered in return. "Are you a boy or girl?" The thief pointed toward Albion in suspicion. He wouldn't be caught off guard again! "And what the heck are you doin' on the beach? Fangs don't normally come around here." Did Spiran Fangs talk? Hell if he knew. But if he was a Spiran Fang, or not: get ready for an awkward game of 20 Questions!

►TAGS: @albion

►NOTES: A man of a thousand tales!

►SKILLS USED: N/A

CODED BY ELECTRIC OF GANGNAM STYLE; EDITED BY OUREX DRACO

[Deleted]

(Terribly sorry about how long this took! I just couldn't get inspired to write the needed contents of this post until now. *gives a chocolate of apologies*)

Tags: @malix

Albion Achelus

Age: 79

Male

IMAGE

After hearing out the strange little man's laughter, Albion felt a part of himself feel something he hadn't felt in many, many years... A part of him he'd thought died out long ago. His heart, it buzzed with an unusual sensation. One he recognized as embarrassment. It wasn't a feeling he experienced often, even before he lost his human status. In fact, the only times he could ever recall feeling embarrassed was the day he returned to his sister for the first time in years, all covered in bruises, gunpowder, and smelling of his long journey at sea. The other time was when he had proposed to the love of his life and handed her that beautiful ring.

Such wonderful memories were like a thousand needles puncturing Albion's heart even now. But he elected to throw those thoughts aside and keep his mind on the present. On the man-creature. The canine had to admit, when his ears caught Zidane give his name and an admittedly awkward title, he had found himself a bit curious. Albion had been around the block a few dozen times in his life so far, he'd lived about as long as any human did at their most healthy, so he didn't really find much interest in the local stories. But giving Zidane a look over, it was incredibly obvious to Albion that he didn't belong on this world. It was experience, as well as the sight of those other men who left earlier, and even a bit of animal instinct that told him Zidane was an outsider, like himself. Plus, now that Albion had a moment to take a subtle whiff, he didn't smell like this place. Just kind of...alcohol-y.

"Nevertheless, you have my gratitude." Albion reaffirmed his thanks stoically. Ever the regal gentleman, Albion was. When Zidane followed up with an unusual question, Albion was almost visibly floored. Externally, he didn't twitch, but internally... He was quite befuddled at the question. Do I not sound like a man? I've never had trouble being recognized as a male by my voice before... Perhaps this strange creature comes from a culture where men and women are more similiar? Mm... I'll have time to think on it later. Albion dismissed his thoughts, and cut the awkward staring short. "I am a man."

Upon being bombarded by another question, Albion cut the little man short before answering. "If I'm to answer all of your questions, 'Sir Highway Bard,'" Albion spoke the title with a slightly intrigued inflection, "I should expect to receive some answers from you as well. Why don't we make it fair, and take turns asking 2 questions?" Albion let loose a single, quiet chuckle as he proposed the idea. He had taken a bit of interest in this bard earlier, so Zidane's curiosity would prove to be mutually beneficial. "But," Albion began before allowing Zidane to think over the idea, "To answer your question as aptly as possible; I'm here because I want to be here. I wanted to bide my time, and the beach seemed like a nice place to do it."

Now...it was time for Albion's questions. "First off... What are you?" Albion kept his tone from sounding too insulting. He didn't allow it to sound overly curious, nor accusatory, but instead maintained a primarily neutral tone with only a slight tinge of confusion. "Secondly, why do you reek like alcohol?" While Albion figured the second question was more self explanatory than the first, it still didn't hurt to ask. The scent was quite off-putting to someone with a nose as keen as Albion's, so that was one of the first things that came to mind.

PROFILE

PLOTS

LINK TO ORIGINAL

[Deleted]

Jovial Prince of Thieves Zidane had a goofy grin spread across his face. The boy stood with his gloved hands on his hips and sandy tail lashing to and fro. His hair was pulled back, smooth and unmatted by and peculiar style. The thief's bouncy personality oozed out in the way he bobbed on the heels of his boots and the way he smirked roguishly in spite of facing a possibly dangerous beast. Though his face was a bit dirty and his clothing dull and wrinkled he had a charm to him that nobles could never possibly attain. He was a breathe of fresh air in a closed in world. The last time Zidane assumed the gender of an animal it left him with a sense of question toward his ability to spot a woman from leagues away. It was better to be sure lest find himself in that awkward position again. He had a reputation to keep up after all! It was pretty obvious what the boy's gender was with his way of dress, but if on looked closer that was not the case at all. His size hid the age he could claim toward obvious alcohol consumption. Not only was he not the same height of peers his own age, his smooth hair was well kept, as if it was tended to most often. His dace was smooth and small, making any claim toward gender outright ambiguous. If not for his pants and very boyish manner of speech, if could easily be forgotten his gender leaned toward the red planet. Though the deal was fair, the one offered by the beast, it was the rogue's natural tendency to try and earn more than what was expected. If he didn't try to steal a bit more than what was afforded, and succeeded, it only worked to benefit him. At the wolf's question he scratched his cheek. Though Zidane was a curiosity he felt himself a human and nothing more. He motioned his gloved hand and gave a lazy shrug. "A human, what else could I possibly be?" He felt this was the case in his heart, even if it was not in his blood. A Genome was just something he did not see himself, even if he felt himself just as part of his siblings as they felt part of him. Though on his world folk with tails and snouts existed along side those without. As for Albion's second question the thief laughed. "I fell into a vat of pickling juice." he grinned, giving a shrug. "When they say no running when wet, you better believe it." He jokingly teased. The rogue laughed and crouched down, looking to the larger wolf, head tilted to the side. The boy's crystal, blue eyes were piercing, the way they stated up at Albion with stare free of judgement. Most would tale Albion as an animal and a devil at his speech! But the boy was pretty relaxed on both counts. "Though that musta been some strong pickling juice if a wolf is chatting me up! I bet you're just a real complex dream!" He teased. It was abnormal, yet he never seemed bothered. "What about you?" He started. "You a Fang? How come you can speak?" The rogue stuffed his hands in his pockets. He turned to face the ocean, his tail swaying in a languid motion. The sun was already escaping the horizon. His sobriety quickly washed in, ridding him of that numbness he sought. His heart was heavy, his mind burdened and spirit wrung with worry. His tail's tip seemed to curl up as the fifth limb responded to his thoughts. His bare shoulders rolled, boot toe kicking against the sand. "Is this the place you call home?" His question seemed distant, as if he had fully considered the possibility of cutting into a wolf's feelings. Sometimes there were those without a home, or still looking for home.

►TAGS: @albion~!

►NOTES: Living my life, trying not to hurt others.

►SKILLS USED: n/a

CODED BY ELECTRIC OF GANGNAM STYLE; EDITED BY OUREX DRACO

[Deleted]

Tags: @malix

Albion Achelus

Age: 79

Male

IMAGE

Despite the little man's lack of acknowledgement regarding Albion's proposed deal, the hound allowed the conversation to carry on. He still had time to kill, and until that was finished, talking to someone probably more unusual than himself was better than somberly staring at the ocean and wishing to retreat into the past. Albion's long ears pointed themselves upward at Zidane's voice, as he responded to Albion's first question.

The hound's gentle eyes sculpted the little man's face into his memory with each word that came from his mouth. Zidane claimed to be human, something Albion inherently doubted as his eyes shifted to the tail swinging back and forth, lightly dusting itself in the sand. But ever the stone wall, and hidden even better behind the face of an animal, he kept such thoughts to himself. You're about as human as I am. His thoughts came a bit bitterly, more aimed toward himself than Zidane. That was the key, after all; Albion despised what he was and believed himself unworthy. With the question that came with Zidane's answer, 'what else could he be?' Albion huffed. "A beast." His canine snout spoke the words with a somber discontent, in a very quiet, almost inaudible mumble. In his mind, humans were defined solely by their appearance and their blood. For Albion, he himself was not human because, despite the fact that he could choose to appear so, buried beneath the facade he would always be just another dog. Zidane, too, could not possibly be a human by his line of thought...

Albion listened quietly as Zidane gave an obviously false story about his scent---And to an extent, that seemed to lighten Albion's mood once again. Even if it happened unintentionally, the fact remained that Zidane seemed to have a knack for cheering up the canine. The soft wind gently swept across the black fur covering every inch of his body, as it rolled off of the surface of the great sea, wafting a light scent of salt water upon the beach. Albion's own tail raised itself a bit in order to better feel the cool, refreshing breeze. Even if the night air coming in was growing a bit chilly, Albion was rarely below average temperature. He did make himself warm from time to time, but that was it.

As Zidane seemed to lean down to meet Albion a bit closer to eye level, the wolf gave him a confused look. As he neared him, Albion's nose picked up the scent of his alcohol even more significantly. It was almost too much to handle---Albion cleared his canine throat with a heave of air from his lungs, before tuning his nose a bit upwind. At the joke regarding Albion being an illusion, the canine chuckled faintly. "Heh... I've always thought I'd be more of a nightmare than a dream." Part of him was joking, but another part, well... That other part knew the truth of his statement.

Zidane was quick to bombard Albion with further questions while hardly allotting him any time to answer them. Speaking briefly in between each of the short man's questions, Albion tried his best to answer aptly. "A Fang?" Albion briefly inquired, his jaw dropping and his canine tongue doing a quick sweep over the many sharp teeth jutting out from his gums. "If that's you're word for a wolf, then yes," Albion replied as he retracted his tongue and returned to a more civil facial expression. He'd figured that was what it was earlier, but this would provide a nice confirmation. "I can speak because I was once human. At least, for a time." Albion watched as Zidane spun around to face the sea. He became more somber... As if something was digging away at him, and he could no longer hide it or bury it away.

He asked Albion a simple question, one that required no real thought to answer. "No," Albion quietly replied. His own tone and mood dropped a bit in response. He figured it wouldn't do anything good to be energetic or brutally sarcastic at the moment. Even a dog like Albion knew there was a time and a place, and this moment wasn't one. "I'm from a different...place."

Before allowing himself to sink into his own memories once again, Albion decided to do something a bit out of his norm. Internally, he'd come to the decision to...lighten the mood. To that end, Albion opened his jaw up, revealing his numerous sharp and possibly deadly teeth once again, and inched his head closer to Zidane's shoulder... As Quietly as he possibly could. Hopefully the 'Highway Bard' would be distracted enough not to notice as Albion gently clasped his teeth onto the little man's shoulder, and ever so gently squeezed it. He wasn't attempting to eat him, not by any means, and his actions bore no hostility. He simply hoped to shock the strange little man into coming back to reality in full.

PROFILE

PLOTS

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[Deleted]

Jovial Prince of Thieves Zidane blinked at the wolf's response to his rhetorical question. Moving to cross his arms over his chest, the rogue rest his weight back on his left leg, his right keeping him stable. Behind him the sandy appendage swayed to and fro, soon lifting to curl visibly from behind him. His tail, though oft low to the ground in a relaxed state, it always had a knack for never fully touching the ground as the end curled peculiarly. It was hard to tell if this was a conscious, constant tick or simply the instinct one with a tail as long as his, had. It was possible that he could have been a beast. The way he fought was often acclaimed to one, folk sometimes called him as such for lack of better descriptions concerning the way he moved and skillfully dodged the attacks of others. The thief, above all, was an escape artist. He was always alert toward the world around him. Inhuman senses, eyes that were sharpest in the darkness and a strength that seemed absurd in a body so small! A bright grin drew itself on the crook's features before the dreary mood overtook him. His drunken stupor had done well to draw him from his homely thoughts, the regression for his power. He felt like everything he fought for was slipping away in the face of this new enemy. Perhaps it was merely a case of not being able to understand just who or what these dark creatures were that sought to disperse his family, his friends. He was not going to allow some knuckleheads to make a scene and tear up his world! Or any!! Aside from his heavy pickling tale, it was difficult to discern if he held an deceit. Despite his duty as a Bard to tell the tales proving that his words were just as tall as his own tail, it was hard to believe he would harshly lie to another. He was, honestly, ill-capable of lying. The boy was wore who wore his heart on his sleeve and to blatantly crush another in such a way was cold, far beyond his nature. But he was still deceptive in other manners... He brushed his gloved finger under his nose, looking to the Fang as he spoke. Nightmares, dreams... what did that matter whichever you were? Dreams were distant fictions unattainable by the common man, and nightmares were his greatest, illogical fears, obtained. Both were false existences. Zidane did not believe in dreams that came true, and all he suffered were nightmares as he slept. It was hard to convince him that a man or beast were capable of forcing themselves to a perpetual existence of being part of a Fairy Tale. In the end the Fang admitted to being from elsewhere, but the dry manner in which he spoke it seemed... distant. It was like he knew … he knew where his home was, but could not quite reach it. He moved to stroke his chin, staring off. The not-Fang seemed pretty down and out. Zidane supposed he was not the only one with troubles. Zidane felt the creature moving about behind him. It was hard to hide the movements of such a big fellow, especially given the rogue had to always stand aware of his surroundings for the opportunity to scavenge a wallet or meet the attempted strike of a rival to Tantalus. He lived the life of a cut-throat, which was why he had no fantasies of accepting the Fairy Tales he took part in on stage, as anything but the fanciful imagination of a lonely man with a pen. Though Zidane was aware that Albion drew closer, he did not move. The boy had two options, but with the feeling he got from the not-Fang, the first thought of swiping his collar and taking a run with it wasn't the best course of action. They guy seemed genuinely down. He said he was once human, but did that mean he was like Cid than? He took a step forward just as the beast's fangs came down he spun on his heels to face him, brow arched as if in question of Albion’s proximity, only to offer a cheeky, knowing grin. "That makes two of us," he noted. "But I'm no stranger to this world and no stranger to the complications of no longer being human!” He laughed and skipped back, putting his hands on his hips as he stood in that awkward stance. “I knew a guy like you once… he couldn’t keep his hands to himself so his lady got jealous and turned him into a bug!” He smirked, wrapping his arms around his body. Though that may not be the case with Albion, perhaps the boy hit the nail on the head. Because Zidane was the sort to really listen to others. Even if he may respond in a childish manner, it was only to keep their spirits up. taking on such burdens on one’s own was hard, but it was easier with friends, which was why he was always inclined to offering his friendship to those he met, even if that meant annoying the hell out of them first! Standing on one leg he pulled his arms to cross behind his head, his left boot toe coming to rest behind his left heel. His tail was still, raised up so it came over toward his right side to counterbalance his stance. Albion was clearly not just some talking creature. he had never experienced any fiend capable of intelligent speech, and ever anything was it was intelligent to begin with, like Moogles. His size certainly detracted from the narrow-minded possibility he was an average Fang, but his leading questions had provided the rouge with the answer he sought. Albion was once human, probably stuck traveling the worlds like him. The worlds took you in because you needed them, or they needed you. Zidane was someone who believed that all things occurred with a reason, but he was skeptical of fate and destiny. Maybe Albion just needed help, and Zidane could do it! “How’d it happen? I travel the world you know! A Bard’s Story is the path to a truth! If you tell me your tale… I bet I know one that can solve yours!” There was a great truth to the ideals of a Bard’s story. Taking so many tales from across the worlds, sometimes there was nothing they did not know! Zidane turned his back to Albion and walked along. The boy carried an aura that was simply drawing. He was loud, honest, but above all he seemed to have an otherworldly knowledge that seemed -- unnatural. He made his way toward the main paths. The beach was too cold at night, so being harbored by the tall, moss covered rocks would serve best.

►TAGS: @albion~!

►NOTES: The world was a big place, but sometimes only one person can see your pain for what it was.

►SKILLS USED: n/a

CODED BY ELECTRIC OF GANGNAM STYLE; EDITED BY OUREX DRACO

[Deleted]

(Mood restart is A-GOOOOOO! Might be kind of a pain to work with this post, so I'm sorry ahead of time! I should be faster and easier from here on out though. I did give you a rare opportunity to get the drop on him though, so soak it in! XD)

Albion Achelus

Age: 79

Male

IMAGE

The wolf, Albion, had gone out of his comfort zone to try something new, which in a way, had backfired quite fantastically. As Zidane spun himself around to face Albion's open chops, the Fafnir, perhaps as more of a jest, pretended to be releasing a hearty yawn. He had no dignity to save, nor did he care to save it had he any to save, but it provided a nice thought to try anyway.

To be asked how he had lost his humanity was a strange question indeed. Rarely ever did Albion indulge people long enough for them to ask that question, and peculiarly enough, most people seemed guarded against asking such personal questions to those they had just met. After being asked, Albion gave Zidane a sarcastic glance, with the mentioning of a tale with answers for him. There were no stories that would magically fix his problems, nor did he really care to hear any that might. They were his own problems, and this canine cared not for the input of others regarding it.

"It's not a story I have any interest in sharing." Albion replied, a bit more sharply than he had previously spoken. It wasn't hostility that he sharpened his tone with, but instead, he sharpened it with a guarded nature. He kept his problems and his stories internalized, where they belonged---Something that might well put him at odds with many a person. Though the wolf had to admit, Zidane's wording did bring a bit of amusement to him. 'A Bard’s Story is the path to a truth,' eh? The canine mentally reiterated. It was cheesy, like something a drunkard from home had once said about 'keeping true to your own justice.' Right before he attempted to steal Albion's wallet. Afterward, he probably regretted being right-handed.

As the short boyish man began to walk away, Albion didn't follow. He simply watched him walk off, without moving an inch to follow. This particular Fafnir was every bit as stubborn as the rest of his fellow beasties, but in many a different way. As far as he could figure, he had no reason to follow the little man. He wasn't asked to accompany him, nor was Albion the type to enjoy little 'follow me' games. He may have been in the body of a wolf, but inside was the mind of a man. A fully grown man, and one who had always been a leader, and never a follower.

Though, as the wolf remained seated, the sound of footsteps much further away tickled his ears. At least two sets... They were coming from the path that the large group had left on earlier. The closer they got, the more finely Albion's ears could pick them up. Their heartbeats were slightly faster, so they were at least a little afraid of the walk in the dark... It was then that he could hear them saying something---They were too far away for a human to possibly pick up, but Albion's keen animal ears could make it out well enough.

"How could you leave the ball behind, eh?" One of the voices spoke up in a seemingly annoyed tone. "I already said I was sorry! Just don't tell the cap'n, please?" The other voice replied with a hushed, slightly panicked manner. With that direction blocked off by encroaching humans, their apparent fear, combined with the fact that Albion knew exactly what they were coming for, left him with only one responsible option; he had to move. He didn't wish to scare these humans by staying, and unfortunately that meant he had only one way to go.

Albion quickly picked himself up for the sand and rushed off in the direction Zidane had walked, his paws moving silently through the sands as his four legs gracefully carried him forth with impressive speed. His fur whipped and waved with the rushing air as he sprinted onward and eventually made it far enough away from the beach, into the area filled with large, somewhat wall-ic moss-covered rocks. As the wolf came to a sauntering stop, he glanced half way back in the direction he ran, still able to hear the beating hearts of those men. Also within range of his hearing were numerous other hearts belonging to animals, lesser fiends, and even---"Zidane," Albion quietly remarked. With the jumble of other sounds, it was hard to pinpoint exactly where the little man was, but Albion knew he was close by...

PROFILE

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[Deleted]

Jovial Prince of Thieves Zidane was not critically acclaimed for convincing people to do what they did not want. In fact the thief expressively believed that if your heart was set on something, you were not going to be stopped or forced into it. All it did was make people fight. He supposed he believed that way because of Baku. Even if at times he had to have sense beaten into him because of the rules, it never stopped Zidane, nor has Baku ever tried to stop him. He was simply punished for breaking the rules! His nature was actually quite gentle even if he, himself, stood unable to sit still. He always had to do something or be the center of attention, but he was also attentive of the feelings of those around him. He could tell when they were hurting, because he understood them. He knew what it was like to be unable to sleep somewhere safe, or what it felt like to be outcast. He knew that even if a person was smiling, their eyes and body always spoke the truth. They were words beyond words. He read their bodies because as a thief you had a learned ability to observe a target. You knew, after a while, that sometimes they were not worth robbing. That was what he felt of Albion. The Fang, though not so Fangy, was guarded. His actions, his words: however unnatural his body was, however lacking of humanesque features he carried, the wolf still felt. He knew the guy wouldn’t follow without extenuating circumstances. And a team of Blizters who couldn’t live without their ball was one. Fangs that big were pretty outrageous and scary! Zidane had his arms folded behind his head as he walked along the path. With his steps he gingerly avoided the cracks and stepped over the steep jutting of the eroding and root-clawed path. Slippery patches of moss were by-passed and overhanging vines ducked. The boy soon came to that curious cave he was tempted to explore. He paused, tail raising a bit off the ground at his frozen position before his body relaxed and the fifth limb slunk back toward the ground. He heard his name called over the howling bellow of wind that carried from the cave. He turned to spot Albion had followed him. “Weren’t ya gunna play with those Blitzers?” He teased, clearly aware of their return. But how? He was already leaving far before Albion had heard them, or noticing their presence was even possible. But Zidane was a people watcher. An observer. People acted pretty predictably when you took the time to concern yourself with others. Selfish upkeep only served to diminish one’s ability at respectable relationships. Zidane hopped down from where he stood toward the ground and looked to his left toward a large body of freshwater in the distance. There appeared to be a cliff’s ledge there as well. He rest his hand on his hip. The boy was oddly quiet before reaching up to rub the back of his head, gloved fingers dancing through his hair. He had a nervous grin at the feeling in his chest. He did not want to be pushy, but he felt bad for Albion. He turned to face the wolf. “I feel bad for you.” He blurted out. “Don’t you have anyone you can talk to?” He felt the wolf was really holding back, but was it pride or necessity? “You know, if people helped each other out a bit more things could be easier. I don’t mind lending an ear if there's anything you wanna talk about.” He really hated the idea of pressuring the wolf, but this was more being considerate. If the wolf could speak, why not use it? Sometimes telling a stranger your problems was easier than telling your friends.

►TAGS: @albion~!

►NOTES: Something is bugging me about you... are you in trouble?

►SKILLS USED: N/A

CODED BY ELECTRIC OF GANGNAM STYLE; EDITED BY OUREX DRACO

[Deleted]

Albion Achelus

Age: 79

Male

IMAGE

As Albion attempted to sort out Zidane's location, the little man-thing happened to catch him unawares, at least momentarily. "No I wasn't." Albion starkly responded. Though he had a thought in passing, about whether or not Zidane had actually only pretended to leave, and was simply playing some child's game with the wolf, the Fafnir didn't particularly care of the truth of it. The fact remained that he was here now, Zidane was here with him, and he might as well make the best of it... Even back home, there were similar times where he felt he had to suffer through joyless occasions for a lack of better options. Not the least of which was every time he set out to sea in search of that monster.

But leaving the past where it belonged was something important to a healthy mind, even if Albion rarely ever did so himself. He elected not to question further, scoffing when the little young man expressed his somewhat haughty concern toward the wolf, though Albion didn't think he intended it to be that way. "Thanks for your concern, but I don't need it." Though a stone wall externally, part of Albion's mind---and his mind alone---began to think of his caretaker and his sister. His caretaker was probably not far from him, even now... Knowing how she loved to follow him around and cause him grief in her own loving way. Albion's thoughts focused primarily on his sister, who was probably at home even now, waiting for the wolf to come back home to her as she always had before.

Perhaps more out of the guilt he bore on himself than Zidane's constant pestering, Albion very quickly and very rashly exploded in a very rare spot of anger. "I don't care about idealistic nonsense!" The wolf barked back angrily, though his voice lacked any real violent intent. The Fafnir had spent a long time, writhing in booze and blood, leaving most of his violent nature to rot within his soul and fade away. Even when he was angry, he never seemed too violent. At least that part of him had improved over the years. Once upon a time, his fury would have wrought death and misery upon anyone foolish enough to stand before him. "People helping each other?! Bah!" He continued on, spitting at the concept, his tone growing a bit more boisterous as he roared back, facing the little man down and glaring at him sharply, "The only thing that would improve 'life' for everyone is if they all rotted the same way I do!" His voice was normally smooth and even, charming to most, but in this moment it was only rough and bitter, angry at the world and at life itself.

His breathing kicked up as the wolf seethed, his ribs expanding and retracting at an increasingly aggressive speed. "My life has been wrought with misery and death!" Albion bellowed, uncaring of whether or not the humans could hear his furious yelling, "And I have lost the only thing most people get to keep in their lifetime! What peaceful tale have you to solve my problems, Spoony Bard?! What glorious poem will you recite to give me back my damned humanity?!" He was almost snarling now, truly beginning to match the beastly appearance he had become so adapted to over these many years. So much rage had built up, hidden away with the deadened soul he had remaining, and so much sadness suppressed over top of it. Not only over what was lost to him, but what he had given up to obtain it.

The wolf named Albion, he had given up his birth mother. He gave up his family. He tossed aside the one person who understood him. Again and again he left his crippled sister alone, to wait for him until he decided to selfishly grace her with his presence. He gave up his time, his happiness, his innocence and even his soul, in search of revenge, hidden behind a mask of justice. Albion had sacrificed far more than what was 'taken' from him, and all of the guilt over his actions built up inside of him to explode out on poor Zidane. 50 years of isolation did tend to wear on you... Albion began to forcefully try and stabilize his breathing, attempting to calm himself down. This display he'd put on was shameful to say the least. Quite unbecoming of someone like Albion.

"Damn it all, Alois..." Albion spoke hushed, referring more in third person to the human he felt struggling within. "You show yourself once again? Teasing me? Why can I not simply rot away, truly and finally? This life continues on, dragging me further and further through the mire, and I cannot simply age and let it end." Albion exhaled, sobering himself quite significantly, as his form shifted... His fur retracted, his bones rearranged themselves in a display of pale, weak light; revealing to the world a man beaten and broken. "Cursed with near immortality." His bright blue eyes, bittered with time and age, glared at a hand he outstretched before them. Albion sat, wearing his human form, cross-legged upon the uncomfortable ground.

His slate black hair was in tatters, hanging every which way, covered in grease and oils and probably even some kind of alcohol or bodily fluids. It was long, reaching down to his shoulders, and was completely untamed. As his eyes kept themselves locked on one hand, staring at it in disgust, the other swept down his jaw line, feeling the dirty, ungroomed stubble resisting against his thumb as it stroked it. He never did like having facial hair... Adorning his body was the same dark gray coat he had stolen from a drifter back home, slightly ripped, and very well worn from travels. Under that, his short sleeved shirt was as disgusting as ever. Stained with vomit, blood, and booze, just as he had left it. He even reeked of alcohol, at least in this form. Fitting for him, considering his earlier comments toward Zidane's smell. His torn cotton breeches served well enough to keep his legs warm, though they weren't exactly comfortable or clean. They were stiff with sweat and salt water, having not been washed in a very, very long time. Buried somewhere within his coat, attached to the thick leather belt at his waist, was a shoddy cutlass and a flintlock pistol.

Most importantly about this form was what was carried within the pockets of the coat; Albion ceased his focused glare, shifting his eyes away from his hand and instead turning them to the ground, as his hand shifted into the right pocket of his coat, producing a silver flask. As he cracked it open, a horrifying smell erupted from within, burning his nose and his eyes. "Ergh..." Albion quietly gasped, taking a sip of the stinky liquid... It was cheap to begin with, but apparently now it had been spoiled to some extent. The liquid burned his throat as it went down, causing his eyes to water. On the bright side, it did the job it was intended to. Albion's head started to feel a little fuzzy, taking a significant stride toward calming the Fafnir.

PROFILE

PLOTS

LINK TO ORIGINAL

[Deleted]

Jovial Prince of Thieves The thief did not seem to respond at all the the man’s yelling, save for throwing up his hands defensively in a dramatic fashion. The rogue was not scared that Albion would strike him. Not like he would be unable to get out of the way, and not like he didn’t ask for it with all his prodding, but sometimes friends needed a good push forward to get back on the right path. Friend? Yeah. Zidane never had a hard time calling people friends. It was usually easier when they weren’t accusing him of being a thief or a dirty mongrel without first knowing him. He listened to Albion and came to understand what it was that hurt him. It was the same thing that hurt him a long time ago. “Humanity isn’t something you are given.” The boy spoke up abruptly. He did not seem to flinch against the man’s transformation. He had seen a lot stranger things in his time in this world, however short it was. Though his age could not compare to Albion’s his wisdom was that of several lifetimes of a world. The Angel of Death was predisposed to destruction, but he had never used it. He was raised with a family that he did not know he had and lost many friends to his incapacity against death. He could never understand Albion’s suffering and the things he had to face, but Albion was not alone in his struggle to live in this place among the stars. Everyone had struggles. The boy crouched down when the man sunk to his knees. “Humanity is something you earn… by accepting it.” His words were soft, gentle. it was as if Zidane knew the man for years, but had only briefly come to know his name. The rogue looked to Albion, his piercing blue eyes an unnatural shape. His tail lay itself in the sand, arms rest over his knees. Zidane was accepting of Albion, even if he was some strange wolf-man. Zidane accepted him because the guy looked to only want a shoulder to lean on. Zidane had only ever offered it when it was necessary. Though it was a bit queer to offer it to a guy, he still had a heart and hurt. “If you need to cry… cry. If you are mad, get angry and shout. Holding it all in is a real heavy burden. But isn’t that what makes you human? Accepting all the failures we’ve had and letting them make us stronger? I may not have been born a human, but I still am, because I accept my anger, sadness and happiness. I think you found yours again, right?” The boy pushed his hands to his knees and bounced to his feet. He rolled his left arm and walked toward the cliff’s edge. He seemed to be collecting his thoughts so he could answer that burning question. Did he have a story? He did. The rogue folded his arms behind his head and leaned precariously on his left leg right on the cliff’s edge. He stared off into the clear blues of the far reaching lagoon. “Once there was this boy who thought himself the hero of the story. But it turns out he was actually born to be the villain. He was told by his creator that he had to destroy everyone he had come to love. He was the very thing these people were fighting to annihilate, the very thing he thought he was protecting them from. The boy lost his spirit… lost his heart. He locked himself away to protect these people. He gave up everything in his life so he would not be the reason they lost everything in theirs.” The rogue reached up to rub at his nose with his gloved finger and peered over his shoulder at Albion. “But even still they stayed by his side. They told him to never forget they were his friends, and that was what friends did. For the first time, in a long time he felt like he belonged, like he was a human too.” Zidane reached his hand out toward Albion. “I won’t leave ya by yourself Alby! We’re friends too, that way you don’t have to fight alone.”

►TAGS: @albion~!

►NOTES: Let me stand by your side, that way we can face more challenges!

►SKILLS USED: N/A

CODED BY ELECTRIC OF GANGNAM STYLE; EDITED BY OUREX DRACO

[Deleted]

(The saying is a song reference, lawl. I'm so unoriginal...)

Albion Achelus

Age: 79

Male

IMAGE

Albion spit onto the ground with a heave of air, his mouth burning from the taste of his drink, as he tossed the spoiled drink aside, flask and all. Unable to stomach being in human form any longer, he quickly shifted back into his canine form in a flash of red. Zidane's words broke through the silence he had fallen into, taking the wolf by surprise... He'd honestly expected the little man to rush off after his display. The fact that he remained only made Albion feel more guilty. Abusing someone who only wanted to help like that, it didn't settle right in his stomach.

Well, maybe the queasy sensation was from his earlier drink... Either way, the canine knew it was too early to try and rush back into human form for long. His burning hatred for those lies was still too strong. Maybe next time. The canine looked to Zidane with softened eyes, his rage quickly boiling down to guilt and sorrow. "If only it were so easily earned," he somberly remarked, "But...thank you." The canine spoke his thanks quietly and earnestly. The little man's following words reached Albion... They stuck into his newly beating heart like a knife, but not with hostile intent. It was like an attempt to kill the bitter, hateful creature he'd become over all these years, and allow the good---or at least goodish man---within to shine once more.

It'd been a long, long time since Albion allowed himself to feel anything as earnestly as he felt the anger and sadness just now. Holding everything in just felt so natural now, or at the very least, forcing himself not to care about anything. Zidane had a point, holding in everything was a burden. One too heavy for Albion to keep on his shoulders any longer. He was being driven mad, that much was plainly obvious after his actions. With a heavy sigh, Albion shook his head from side to side. "I'm sorry. You only wished to help me, and I..." Humility and responsibility were hard. It was much easier to pretend to be just another animal... But at least he did gain one thing from this---Albion realized now that he'd never really lost his humanity, let alone have it stolen from him. It was more like he simply refused to see it for what it was now. And though, biologically he would never be human, and that fact frightened him, running away from it and preventing anyone from getting close wasn't the answer. It was only making the Fafnir's heart hurt more.

As Zidane shifted up to his feet and walked over toward the cliff nearby, Albion rose up to his four paws and sauntered after him slowly. His mood had clearly dropped significantly, but he would improve. As Zidane came to a stop, looking over the cliff, Albion planted himself a few feet to his right, and a little behind him, and looked out at the wonderful sight before him in turn. He listened quietly as Zidane told another tale. This one, even more than the earlier one, had hit Albion close to home. In a way, it reminded the Fafnir of his father... Albion was indeed the first male Fafnir born in over two thousand years, but he never wanted the responsibility of the power he inherited. He never wanted to pick up where his ancestors had left off in their bloody war of superiority. He didn't ask for it, damn it!

As Zidane's story went on, it veered a bit from Albion's past, but ultimately it did hold more than a few similarities. Though Albion had no idea the truth of this story, it served a good purpose. It was a tale capable of teaching even the most hardened hearts that they could find people to share their struggles with. After the story closed out, Albion glanced to Zidane for a moment, a flash of gratitude silently shifting through his gaze, before he turned his eyes back out over the cliffside.

"You know," Albion began to speak, realizing in part that he had adapted his caretaker's 'lecture' way of beginning a speech, "I used to play the piano... I idolized the man who taught me. There was something he used to say, a saying of sorts. 'Looking upon the beauty of life is all that keeps us calm; we jot down scattered thoughts with a quill in our palm. We wish the world before us would stand still, so our eyes can look on. If only we could capture it's beauty and put it in song.' I don't know why..." Albion chuckled, eyes drawn out over the darkened view before him, "But I never understood what he meant until now. He wasn't the most elegant speaker, nor was he quite the bard you are, but he was a good and wise man."

The Fafnir pulled his eyes away from the sights before him, shifting up onto all fours and stepping away. He moved to his tossed aside flask, taking it within his jowls silently, before bringing it back over by Zidane. He took a moment, looking up thoughtfully to Zidane for a moment. Learning what he had today would prove a valuable step forward... One which Albion knew he needed to solidify. He turned his attention over the cliffside, loosening his toothy grip over the metal flask and allow it to plummet below. "I won't need that again." He stated with a subtle but present confidence.

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