07-28-2020, 02:26 PM
[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 60%; min-height: 8px; font-family: arial; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; padding: 25px"]Devland could admit he was a pretty curious fellow. He was constantly enchanted by a variety of things: weather patterns, bugs, reptiles (snakes, specifically), journal-keeping. Other than his hyper-fixations, however, the curiosity he held was not uncontrollable. In fact, more often than not, he found he had to push himself into certain situations.
Screams, he knew, often pushed people forward. And so forward he went.
His gait was awkward and slow from his injured shoulder, but more than that, he was extremely cautious. Group dynamics were not an easy thing to learn overnight, and Devland still very much valued his own life more than anyone else's. The pained screams and horrible noises that rushed towards him filled him with all too familiar dread, and he debated turning back. Still, he knew if other Typhoon members were around, it might not look well to run from this. He had appearances to keep up.
When he finally arrived on scene, he realized his own hesitation might have saved his life. Had he shown up any earlier, the murder might have gone after him as well. He supposed he should count that as a win, but seeing the corpse in front of him twisted his stomach into knots.
"Fates," he groaned, eyes surveying the damage. He had seen a lot in his eight months of life, but he had never seen something so terribly gruesome. The deceased's body was so mutilated that Devland couldn't even begin to make out who this might have been. Above the blood and gore, there was a strange scent that he couldn't - and quite frankly didn't - want to identify.
Something about all of this didn't sit right with Devland. The entire scene was almost like a calling card. A tight frown turned down his lips. What the hell was this place? And what the hell had he gotten himself into by joining?
Screams, he knew, often pushed people forward. And so forward he went.
His gait was awkward and slow from his injured shoulder, but more than that, he was extremely cautious. Group dynamics were not an easy thing to learn overnight, and Devland still very much valued his own life more than anyone else's. The pained screams and horrible noises that rushed towards him filled him with all too familiar dread, and he debated turning back. Still, he knew if other Typhoon members were around, it might not look well to run from this. He had appearances to keep up.
When he finally arrived on scene, he realized his own hesitation might have saved his life. Had he shown up any earlier, the murder might have gone after him as well. He supposed he should count that as a win, but seeing the corpse in front of him twisted his stomach into knots.
"Fates," he groaned, eyes surveying the damage. He had seen a lot in his eight months of life, but he had never seen something so terribly gruesome. The deceased's body was so mutilated that Devland couldn't even begin to make out who this might have been. Above the blood and gore, there was a strange scent that he couldn't - and quite frankly didn't - want to identify.
Something about all of this didn't sit right with Devland. The entire scene was almost like a calling card. A tight frown turned down his lips. What the hell was this place? And what the hell had he gotten himself into by joining?