beastly.

AFFILIATED WITH EIDOLON PATH. NOT INDIE FRIENDLY! { MOBILE LINKS }

[championized-blog1]

cudgel‌:

          THE  VOICE  THAT  BECKONS HIM  is one roman would recognize anywhere.  he’s all too familiar with that  CONDESCENDING  tone; likely fabricated, much like roman’s own means of speaking.  adam taurus.  another one of cinder’s lackeys and a high-ranking member of the white fang.  probably not someone roman would ever chose to work with on his own accord.

jeeze, why’d he have to run into  ADAM  of all people? 

❝ oh, taurus. ❞  he saunters forward, twirling melodic cudgel through the air, ❝ i didn’t realize your kind cared so much about us humans!  i’m touched. ❞  he’s got his own grin plastered across his expression, his tone drenched with falsified gratitude ─ fully aware a man like adam would see right through it. 

❝ anyway, who’s to say THIS isn’t hell? ❞  he gestures to the winter wasteland surrounding them, his expression grim,  ❝ perhaps our vision of fiery pits was wrong all along, eh?  are you sure we haven’t both met the same fate? ❞  he’s pretty aware of his final moments ─ albeit hazy ─ but he’s not about to let some white fang lapbulldog find amusement out of it.

Ahhh, and there’s what made Adam wish he had been the one to cleave Torchwick apart. He’s too smug and too cocky, and he can feel the way Roman looks at him. It’s like looking at a wild animal, Adam is sure. The corner of the Faunus’ lip curls up slightly, but it only sharpens the smile on his face as his fangs poke out.

He’s more amused than he is angry until Torchwick says that. To have the gall to imply Adam would be dead after so many years surviving... 

Let’s just say there is nothing short of a rage beginning to creep into him.

“ Please,” he spits, venom rising in his tone. “ Don’t compare me to you, Torchwick. You were nothing but a stepping stone loosened just enough for us not to notice when you fell out of the stairs. I’m on a whole other level. The only Hell about this is that I apparently have to be stuck here with a coward like you. “

[championized-blog1]

@cudgel Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes...

“ Roman Torchwick, “ Adam intones plainly, bemused and frankly surprised. The human urchin that had been leeching off of the White Fang is standing there before him... alive. The last he had heard, the sucker had bit the dust at Beacon. This place can bring the dead back, huh?

And the dead man was bunking two houses down from him. Small world. Regardless, Adam seems smug when he regards him, pocketing the hand not rested over Wilt.

“ Color me surprised. “ He muses now, flashing the smallest of smirks at the human. “ Aren’t you supposed to be six feet under, burning in Hell? Did they already get sick of you down there, so bad they had to spit you back up? “

Curiouser and curiouser...

[blxkebowdonna]

Un-welcomed Reunion|| Blake & Adam

@championized

Blake’s senses were tingling. She could tell that someone or something was near and she had a feeling that whatever it was would not be something she wanted to encounter. She stayed cautious as she walks through the dark late night. The wind was gentle but harsh enough to cause a chill to go through her spine.

Something about this nightly walk was different and she didn’t like it one bit. She felt like someone was watching her or spying and it just made her on edge. Blake freezes when she sees something lurking behind the trees, a dark shadow of some sorts. “It can’t be” she mutters to herself as the figure grows closer. Her eyes grow cold as she starts to glare “….Why are you here, Adam?”

Part of her wanted to run. Part of her wanted to charge at him. But she didn’t do either. She stood her ground and waited for his reply. Only then when she hears it will she react accordingly. For now she stood angry hoping that he would just disappear.  “Because the last time we saw each other you ran away. So why are you here?”

[championized-blog1]

Adam’s steps become tentative and careful when he sees a flash of black hair, twitching cat ears. His heart beats, and beats, and beats, racing harder and harder because it can’t be her, right? That girl he considered family, who ripped his heart out and crushed it beneath her boot. It can’t be her, he wants to convince himself, but Blake Belladonna is someone whose face he’s come to remember.

In fondness, in caring in good memories and in bad. Every inch of Blake’s features are familiar and wrong because now she looks at him like he’s some kind of monster. Eyes that believed in him once have lost their shine and he can’t forget that easily that she crushed his heart and left him for dead.

So in place of fondness instead he feels rage. Rage, rage, fucking rage.

“ Why am I here? Beats me. I should be asking you that. “ Adam tongues over one of his fangs before he bares his teeth. “ Every so often, it seems you just end up charging back into my life. But you know what...? I’m glad. “

His lips rise into a grin. 

“ I’m glad we’re both here. I am so glad to finally be able to face you like this, without your friends. “

“ I wonder if you can stand up to the challenge, you coward. “

[championized-blog1]

@wintresse Am I supposed to recognize you, or something...?

The month of January is less tempestuous than the last, something Adam is certainly thankful for. He drifts through the snow with Wilt by his side, one hand rested on her hilt while the other is twined within a thick length of rope. Through the snow, he drags a beast freshly slain, read streaking through stark white snow. A soft hum draws up in his throat without thinking, a song that he remembers from a past that seems so distant now...

Behind his mask, he casts his gaze over the horizon as he passes through the Outpost. At this point, he pulls the animal over his shoulder entirely, leaving only droplets on the stone instead of a streak. Considerate, maybe, but more convenient.

This place...

Is really strange, isn’t it?

He’s so caught up in the abundance of white, of the few scattered gazes that barely graze him, that he shoulders into someone roughly, with winding force. 

Rage rage rage rage. Adam can’t help the welling frustration in him as he rights the game on his shoulder, twisting to look at the white-haired woman. She seems... familiar, in a way, but he can’t quite place it. Oh well.

“ Watch where you’re going! “ The Faunus snaps, grinding his teeth in irritation.

Does he know her from somewhere? Surely not...

[championized-blog1]

machineri‌:

Ironwood’s answer begins with silence. For a moment, he seems stubbornly unyielding, his grip on his revolver firm and undeniable. His eyebrows furrow, a stern expression of consideration flitting across his features, and then he speaks, slowly and reluctantly, “… You’re right. Very well.” 

The ruthlessness fades, replaced by a sentiment for diplomacy. The general lowers his arm slowly, then lets his revolver drop into the snow at his feet. A dangerous decision, he knows, but he’s mostly certain that he can take the other man in a fight. He quickly considers the number of seconds it’ll take for him to pick up the revolver again and aim, the distance between himself and his potential opponent. Ironwood’s years in the Atlas military, and his familiarity against Grimm — Adam Taurus, if the man is to attack him, couldn’t be substantially more difficult than the general’s former foes. 

The general’s cold gaze is fixed upon Adam’s mask, careful and perceptive of any suspicious movement. He speaks again, his voice clear and collected, “Now, it’s your turn.”

There is a sick and twisted satisfaction on Adam’s expression while Ironwood leaves himself defenseless. It’s like quashing a bug, quelling a blazing inferno that once everyone feared. It’s like the rock breaking through a hard place. Proud, unyielding, Adam savors the moment like it’s a fine, fine wine.

Rage, rage, rage fades and dissipates, replaced by that neutral satisfaction. It would be easy to strike Ironwood down, to go completely wild and spill his blood across the snow. The idea of slaying General Ironwood, severing limbs and his head and gutting him, gutting and ripping and tearing is fresh in his mind. To skin him like one would skin an animal would be...

Magical.

But he refrains. Instead, Adam draws Wilt, and extends his arm... dropping her into the snow.

“ Was that so hard? “ He intones plainly, pocketing his hands like he’s talking casually like a friend. In his head, he thinks of all the ways he could swing Wilt up with his foot, each second it would take for them both to be armed again. 

Ironwood would be an easy fight in comparison to the ones he’s fought.

“ Now... how about you and I talk, General? “

[championized-blog1]

HAPPY NEW YEAR EIDOLON!

[championized-blog1]

machineri‌:

“Disarm yourself. I won’t ask again.” Ironwood’s voice is thin, careful, and calm. He watches Adam astutely, his own weapon still pointedly fixed at the other man. Whether or not this move of his was too brash, Ironwood doesn’t seem to care.

However, the other’s sarcastic words strike the general with hidden concern. Although the world of Remnant might see the use of force necessary in the arrest of a man connected to the Fall of Beacon and other violent crimes, this was Eidolon, a foreign landscape to them both. Yet, he only entertains this worry for a brief moment.

And with his considerations set aside, Ironwood lets out a harsh, almost cruel scoff of a laugh — brief and abrupt, at the other’s claim of defenselessness. “There is no need to get ahead of yourself. As I said, Adam Taurus, I will not shoot.” The general moves his arm slightly outward, moving his aim away from the other man. “See? I mean it.”

A smile grows on Ironwood’s face. It is a wry and nearly playful smile. “Given your recent exploits and your history of violence, you can’t blame me for being a little cautious, can you?”

Just like a human, Adam things, but it’s not a bitter thought. It’s wistful, bringing him back far, far away to a memory, to a man calling him animal, to a gun pointed at a man he could have once considered father, perhaps. Perhaps, if Ghira Belladonna had said the right thing, done something. 

The rage returns. Rage, rage rage rage rage. 

Evenly, despite the crawling venom in his throat, his veins, Adam replies, “ I’ll disarm when you do, General. You have no jurisdiction here, so... “

The Faunus runs his thumb over the edge of Wilt’s hilt, the crimson blade gleaming, cascading a sunset of red over the snow. 

“ It’s only fair, right? “

[championized-blog1]

starter call!

you know what’s up. capping at 2! (cast and bunkmates exluded)

[machineri-deactivated20210821]

The cold is familiar, but it is far from comforting. Ironwood navigates through the wintry landscape carefully, pacing aimlessly from one location to the next. He has rationalized it already as securing the perimeter, or familiarizing himself with the area, but in truth, his incessant half-circling of, half-meandering throughout the village is only a blatant manifestation of his restlessness. He shouldn’t be here, is the clear thought that racks his mind. Remnant, and specifically Atlas, is in danger and disarray, and his leadership, which he couldn’t even afford to let waver, is now absent from the place that needs it most.

Ironwood continues walking, his hands behind his back. Immersed in his thoughts, it takes him a second longer than usual to notice that he is no longer alone. He stops. A distance away — although not far enough for Ironwood’s comfort — stands a man that Ironwood recognizes as Adam Taurus. Without even a sliver of hesitation, Ironwood draws his revolver and aims it at the other man. The fact that this is largely an empty threat remains unspoken; after all, he has only four bullets to use, and to use wisely. He has the faint thought that, perhaps, he should put his weapon away and withdraw, but cowardice — even if misdiagnosed — has no place in his actions.

With his weapon still poised, Ironwood speaks, “Disarm yourself. I won’t shoot.”

@championized

[championized-blog1]

Drowning, drowning... it was less like falling into a winter wonderland, and more like drowning. More like anger burning out of him disappearing, suffocating. It was more like a dream, like an embrace, like something warm - something scary, something unwanted, something that, when he came to in an empty bunk, only made him angry all over again. Then again - when isn’t he angry?

Adam’s failure at Haven rests well inside of his head, fresh like morning dew. It’s unbecoming to sit back and whine and brood, so he doesn’t. He grabs Wilt and the pathetic scabbard left behind for him, like a ghost of Blush, or like some malformed shadow. The High-Leader - or former - or ... whatever he may be spends three hours in the cold.

Three hours alone, wandering, watching others mingle while he remains in a daze. Unfamiliar territory. Unfamiliar faces. A kingdom crumbling and he’s not even there to see it, but he feels it.

And then Adam feels eyes on him, hears the telltale draw back of a hammer as a bullet locks into place. He turns his gaze slow, unperturbed.

“ Huh ... “ Adam begins, thumbing the edge of his scabbard where it meets Wilt’s hilt. His voice is laced with vitriol, with an indifferent sarcasm. “ And here I was hoping for a friendly face. “

He doesn’t lower his weapon, instead splaying his free hand in a short gesture around to the bunkhouses.

“ General Ironwood, right? “ Adam smiles, tonguing  over his incisors in his mouth. “ Talk about jumping the gun. You wouldn’t really attack a defenseless Faunus in the middle of a residential area, would you? Especially not one minding his own business and trying to acquaint himself with a strange environment. “

“ I think that kind of thing would put a big, black mark in your ledger ... But what do I know about Atlas customs? “

[kidmograph]

3 ST∆TES

Got this image before sleep last night. How I presume my body is divided.

[gutspace]

sharps

[2013ann]

Day 8 : Antagonist 

for Blake and Yang 

[symboloffear-blog]

oh jeeze it’s me

hey there!!!!!

you can call me hawks, i am 22 years old and i rp hawks and tomura from bnha!

i don’t bite so don’t be afraid to approach me via DMs for anything, especially for rp! you can contact me here on this blog, or on my twitter and main tumblr, which i should have linked somewhere.

get ready for this to happen. yep! this is happening! tomura is happening.

[championized-blog1]

oh jeeze it’s me again!

this time with an even stinkier boy!

[championized-blog1]

(gasp) ADAM!

i’ve had enough of this dude

has become a filthy casual with a cool sword and nothing else

(kicks you in the abdomen) nothing personnel kid

poster boy of ‘cool motive, still murder’

jaded, violent, angry, morphed into something terrible

local man sits in bunkhouse alone. “christ,” sources say “what a loser”

i wrote him a fucking backstory so until rwby gives canon info i’m god now

[eidolonpath]

( oh huh i thought i had those on there! sorry about that, i added gaslighting/abuse on his triggers which should be the last of those. as for the text i can't find the exact code for the text size but i changed it to white ! let me know if it's still a strain and i can try to change themes. thanks! )

Welcome to Eidolon, traveler. Wishes have brought you far, and we know they will only bring you further.

You will find your residence in Bunkhouse #15.

Wilt sits upon your mattress… though it is merely an ordinary blade, and its counterpart appears to be missing. A mundane scabbard is in its place.

Search, seek, persist. Take heart in your heart.

May Diaidem bless you.