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[sonderliing-blog]

cassandracainorphan:

sonderliing:

             Even he was startled by the noise, but not so much as she was, he pulled back, he watched her react, and knew to let her act based upon how instinct dictated–he had seen Pan do it plenty of times. He watched her come back to herself and he nodded lightly.            ❝ That sounds good, the          Starbucks’ll still be busy, how          about the cafeteria? i can get          you something yummy, but         thoroughly unhealthy. How         about it? ❞              He smiled softly as he spoke, raising a hand slowly, palm up, towards hers in orddering.            ❝ How about it? My treat.  ❞

Cassandra turned back around as she calmed herself back down. Shoulders still more tense then before, and eyes narrowed ever so slightly she wasn’t exactly relaxed but she was present. “Yummy, unhealthy…always good.” Lips twitching for a moment to offer a flash of amusement before she looked at that hand.

One of her hands actually started to reach out as though to take his hand. It stopped though as her eyes flickered from him to a random stranger walking past digging into their backpack. This place might not be dangerous compared to other places she’d been, but that didn’t mean it was safe either. If Shiloh got hurt because they were holding hands, and she couldn’t move fast enough she wouldn’t forgive herself…or be able to face Crane.

“Your treat, yes…thanks. I’ll, follow.” Without thinking she moved up closer to him falling into a bodyguard position automatically.  

                Shiloh nodded in easy agreement and started leading her to the university cafeteria.                 ❝ Unhealthy does tend to          be yummy, besides, I always          burn it all off anyway.          Something tells me you do,          too. ❞                 ❝ Granted, they do have          some healthy options but          they’re bloody costly. ❞                  Without thinking Shiloh pulled out his phone and started spinning stops, on Pokemon Go, the school after all was filled with stops, gyms, and was frequently lured up. When they got to the cafeteria Shiloh opened the door for Cass and walked in with her. It was pretty quiet compared to how it typically was earlier in the day, and for the most part, the assortment of food was already readily available, so there was no need for Cass to have to worry about reading a menu.

Motorcycles and more.

[sonderliing-blog]

cassandracainorphan:

sonderliing:

             Shiloh watched her, making a note of how anxious she was, and easily slipped into a passive role, it was a responsiveness that came naturally to him–anticipating the needs of others and responding in turn. He felt like it was important to let her lead the conversation, both because of her difficulties with the spoken word, and the sheer subject matter she wanted to approach. He waited a minute to allow a beat of silence before he spoke again.             ❝ All those words work, you          did good. ❞               Likewise, he felt it exceedingly important to praise her where it was appropriate, and it certainly felt appropriate here, after all, that would be part of his role in her life if she wanted, right? Encouraging and guiding her. A role to take on that not only would help her, and help his family, but also help him miss his own family across the pond a little less.             ❝ Agreed, let’s talk about          that, do you want to talk          about it here, or would you          rather go somewhere else,          love?  ❞

Cassandra was watching Shiloh, and her eyes narrowed for just a moment. Words quick, but he seemed sincere. Things Cassandra enjoyed were simple things. Attention, hugs, being listened to…praise. His quick bit of praise got a quick smile in return. For such a quiet stoic girl she had a surprisingly expressive face as lips curled and eyes softened.

Giving a little nod she pulled her hat back on. “I’m fine, where…” Right as she was about to leave it up to him some poor college student with an old car had a backfire when pulling out. That sudden loud noise made Cassandra flinch out of reflex, and she stepped forward hands raising to pull Shiloh to a safer spot. That motion turned into a turn as she realized there wasn’t a danger. Her back turned towards Shiloh her hands shook for a second as she forced them down, and took a breath forcing the automatic rush of adrenaline away.

“Maybe somewhere, else? Yes?” Glancing back at him she raised an eyebrow acting as though everything was normal. “Quiet, cafe?… Must, be one, you…like…Can meet, you there.”

             Even he was startled by the noise, but not so much as she was, he pulled back, he watched her react, and knew to let her act based upon how instinct dictated--he had seen Pan do it plenty of times. He watched her come back to herself and he nodded lightly.            ❝ That sounds good, the          Starbucks’ll still be busy, how          about the cafeteria? i can get          you something yummy, but         thoroughly unhealthy. How         about it? ❞              He smiled softly as he spoke, raising a hand slowly, palm up, towards hers in orddering.            ❝ How about it? My treat.  ❞

Motorcycles and more.

[sonderliing-blog]

cassandracainorphan:

sonderliing:

              Shiloh left the building at an even pace, his leather satchel slung over his shoulder heavy with notebooks and various articles he had printed off to review. The funny thing was, as a grad student, he missed learning. It felt like all he did now was do research and write, He knew that now was the time to apply that knowledge, but surely there was more to learn? Shiloh certainly did not feel as though he knew everything, he knew a lot, certainly, but none of it felt particularly connected to anything. Just random facts swirling about inside of him.               The young man was so intent upon his own thoughts that he did not notice Cassandra until he was nearly at his motorcycle–Shiloh startled, eyebrows raised in shock.              ❝ Cass? What’re you doing          here? What’s happened? Is          everything okay?.❞                Cassandra quelled his fears, and Shiloh was far easier to soothe than Pan was.              ❝ Good to here, and yeah,          that’s fine, what do you want          to talk about, love? ❞

Cassandra tilted her head a bit studying Shiloh as her shoulders hunched up for a moment. She was hesitant, and even a bit nervous. A hand went up taking off her cap while the fingers of her other hand idly ran around it. Anyone else would have been making little “ummms” and “ahhs” but Cassandra was simply silent. Right up until she wasn’t.

“Adoption. Crane, Father Crane, Pan…” Frowning she sighed. Cassandra wasn’t quite sure what to call Crane as it so happened. Shaking her head she looked back up. “Crane mentioned, adoption…said, talked to you…leaving it up…to me.”

Shifting back and forth for a moment on the motorcycle she finally slipped off of it to look up at Shiloh with those oddly intense eyes that always saw far too much. “Wanted to, talk…to you first…before deciding…seemed…” Eyes narrowing in though she hesitated. “Word…proper? Important? Polite?” Giving a little shrug she gave up.

“Wanted talk, to you…about, adoption, your…feelings.”

             Shiloh watched her, making a note of how anxious she was, and easily slipped into a passive role, it was a responsiveness that came naturally to him--anticipating the needs of others and responding in turn. He felt like it was important to let her lead the conversation, both because of her difficulties with the spoken word, and the sheer subject matter she wanted to approach. He waited a minute to allow a beat of silence before he spoke again.             ❝ All those words work, you          did good. ❞               Likewise, he felt it exceedingly important to praise her where it was appropriate, and it certainly felt appropriate here, after all, that would be part of his role in her life if she wanted, right? Encouraging and guiding her. A role to take on that not only would help her, and help his family, but also help him miss his own family across the pond a little less.             ❝ Agreed, let’s talk about          that, do you want to talk          about it here, or would you          rather go somewhere else,          love?  ❞

Motorcycles and more.

[sonderliing-blog]

cassandracainorphan:

Closed starter for @flockofpan

Gotham U wasn’t exactly the type of place Cassandra went to often. However she found herself wanting a chance to talk to Shiloh one on one, and so she was at the university. It was outside of the pub, away from Crane, and would be easier for it to be just the two of them. After all she couldn’t very well offer up a proper response to “do you want to be adopted” until after talking to Shiloh now could she?

Cassandra knew which motorcycle was his, and had decided to make sure she met up with him through the very simple method of sitting on Shiloh’s motorcycle and waiting. She was patient, and had been for as long as she could remember. Both by nature, and by training. With how things were starting to warm up it was a bit to hot for her hoodie so she had it over a shoulder which left her scarred arms visible for now.

Most of her attention was on the people moving back and forth, with a decent amount focused more on the women then the men. She couldn’t help it. The women were just more interesting, and despite her habitual PTSD driven vigilance Cassandra didn’t really expect to get randomly attacked in the parking lot of Gotham U. The hat Crane had given her was of course on helping to keep her face shaded, and also made her a touch more recognizable if you knew to look for such a hat. As Shiloh approached her head turned as her eyes intense as ever focused on him before a hesitant little smile came to her, and she raised a hand in greeting. “Shiloh… wanted, to talk… if it’s okay? Nothing’s, wrong.”

              Shiloh left the building at an even pace, his leather satchel slung over his shoulder heavy with notebooks and various articles he had printed off to review. The funny thing was, as a grad student, he missed learning. It felt like all he did now was do research and write, He knew that now was the time to apply that knowledge, but surely there was more to learn? Shiloh certainly did not feel as though he knew everything, he knew a lot, certainly, but none of it felt particularly connected to anything. Just random facts swirling about inside of him.               The young man was so intent upon his own thoughts that he did not notice Cassandra until he was nearly at his motorcycle--Shiloh startled, eyebrows raised in shock.              ❝ Cass? What’re you doing          here? What’s happened? Is          everything okay?. ❞                Cassandra quelled his fears, and Shiloh was far easier to soothe than Pan was.              ❝ Good to here, and yeah,          that’s fine, what do you want          to talk about, love? ❞

Motorcycles and more.

[sonderliing-blog]

blanc-perfumes:

sonderliing: 

               ❝ It’s for a bloke… yeah. ❞                Shiloh was not terribly sure how to respond to that, or how to take that information and apply it to the subject at hand–scents were not his specialty, after all. Let alone what insight someone’s scent could offer about their personality or how they maneuvered in this twisting road of life. When it got to the listing of ingredients, Shiloh finally admitted that he had no idea what he was looking for, and turned to the shopkeeper in resignation.                The young man approached the counter to speak to the other properly, but his gaze shifted downwards at the question. Now how did he answer that? He had no real way of knowing, aside from text conversations, and text was a poor judge of character. No tone, no inflection, no way of reading someone. Yet… so many ways, but not in the way to answer the question as to Crane’s temperament.               ❝ I just don’t… I don’t know…          I’ve never met him in person,          well, I mean… in passing, I saw          the back of him, but we’ve never          talked face-to-face. He usually          just texts me–he doesn’t leave          his office much.                ❝ I don’t really know what          sort of temperament he’s got, I          know he wears this big black,          sort of heavy overcoat. I know          he wears tweed–or at least he          wore tweed pants. I’m taking it          as a tweed suit or something.          You look really eccentric          wearing tweed trousers with          other outfits… ❞                Shiloh cleared his throat–r a m b l i n g, he was rambling again. What all did he know that was relevant?               ❝ He must spend a good          amount of time around horses, he          moves kind of like a deer, and I          think. Hm. He seems s a d. That’s          all I’ve got. ❞

It didn’t take a detective to gradually piece together who the boy was talking about, and as realization dawned upon Sylvester,  his expression shifted from that of polite-storekeeper to mildly-perturbed.  Ah, shit, this was probably the one Crane had sent around to keep an eye on things. On that note, he removed himself from his forward position to a more leaned back posed, crossing his arms tight over his chest.

❝ Well, it’s rather odd to be buying un Homme un Parfum if you hardly know him, no? Then again I have couples who haven’t spoken a word to one another in years buying stuff, so who am I to say? ❞ 

He looked closely at the boy now. It didn’t seem he’d be very good at taking on some of the individuals who had entered Sylvester’s shop before; in fact, it seemed like he’d be snapped in half by them before he had time to react. Unless he was good with a gun, but even then he seemed way too… nice for that. Sylvester felt a bit of resentment set in - Crane seemed to have ripped him off in his own special way.

❝ I have a fragrance called L'inconnu du Lac. It’s comprised of lemon and verbena, with iris and juniper as the heart notes, and Mysore sandalwood as well as ambergris as the base. It’s a very ‘somber’ scent; rather reminds you of a misted lake, which is why the title is what it is. Do you wager he’d enjoy something like that? Because if not, I have various others to select from.  ❞

They could spend all night settling on a cologne for Crane. Sylvester was just amused by the fact that Crane would be getting one of his works. Perhaps he should grab something from the backroom after all; payback for sending this poor kid as his guard.                                         

              ❝ Uh... ❞               Shiloh was a little taken aback by the assumption, true, it was an odd thing to be buying a man he hardly knew. He could have gone with say, a gift card to Starbucks, or a mug to get into the man’s good graces, but Shiloh came armed with what little knowledge that he did have.              ❝ We’re not a couple. I don’t          really know him all that well, but          I’m just a runner. I deliver stuff,          not terribly important for him to          get to know me, I guess. ❞               Shiloh looked away, not exactly proud of the fact that he was willing to jump through all of these hoops just to ask Crane some questions. That he was willing to make an excuse so that Crane would have no choice but to meet him face-to-face, effectively bribing the businessman just so he’d step out from behind his phone? It felt cunning, self-serving... and thereby shameful to the young man.                So much so that the fact that, if Shiloh had been privy to Sylvester’s assumption that Shiloh was part of the armed guard, it would have been laughable. Pan had made the boy a runner due to his own assumption that Shiloh would not survive the rough and tumble environment of Gotham City. A runner was the safest position in the field, distant and relatively clean, at least to the perception of those doing the drops.              ❝ But I need a meeting with          him, and I’m not one of those          important people that’ll get his          attention. If being his delivery          boy won’t get me into his office,          I’ll use what else I’ve got, and          what I’ve got is... ❞               A nervous hand was run through his hair, and Shiloh ruffled it slightly, as it trying to stimulate his own neurons into giving him something grander than what he currently had to work with. Some overlooked detail, some fact that could tie the two leads he had together. Alas, a moment at someone’s back left him with very little to work off of. Shiloh gave an awkward scoff.              ❝ That he’s sad... and he          smells like a horse... ❞                His rambling finally finished, he let out a heavy sigh, like a rush of air being let out of a balloon. He felt better for it, more sure of himself, and found himself able to relax again. He rationalized that, had Crane given him any other option, any other opportunity, he would not have to fall back onto such a unconventional measure.              ❝ That one sounds like it might          be interesting, do you have a          sample I could smell to be sure? ❞

Immigration to the New Americana ||| blanc-perfumes

[sonderliing-blog]

blanc-perfumes:

sonderliing: 

              ❝ Yeah, I just… I’m looking for          something a little specific. I’m          looking for something woodsy.          Maybe a little earthy, or something          that’ll compliment someone who          already smells… kind of earthy. ❞                 A horse was earthy, right? Shiloh could not think of any pleasant way of putting the fact that he was shopping for a man who already smelled like a barn animal. More-so, how to say it in a way that did not seem as if he was saying that Crane smelled unpleasant, because he did not. It was simply… different. It was a dusty hay smell that felt old in a way, but certainly not unpleasant. It was almost soothing in the aged odor it gave off, sort of like the smell of an old book as opposed to a new one.               No, definitely for the best that Shiloh keep that bit to himself for now.               Shiloh glanced at a few more bottles before he glanced back at the shop keeper sheepishly, figuring that he owed him something of an explanation for such a general specification.                ❝ I don’t really know what the          bloke likes, so I’m just trying to          compliment… him as he is. ❞

S y l v e s t e r looked at the man more closely now, his eyes narrowing just slightly as he did so. He seemed to be acting rather shifty for someone just browsing for a friend, and Sylvester was beginning to feel that he would not like how this interaction would play out. Regardless, a smile appeared on his face as he pressed his palms flat firmly on the surface of his desk. Until something was actually done, he couldn’t just make assumptions.

❝ Earthy, you say? And this is for a male? Well, often when an individual carries one fragrance already, we as perfumers try to accentuate it so it becomes more prominent. After all, it is your natural fragrance, and one should revel in how they are. It tells people all about their personality, their attitude, their motives. ❞ 

His gaze went from the man to the perfumes lining the shelves, each in their neat rows, all facing towards the customers. These were the ‘better’ fragrances, the ‘organic’ fragrances, one could almost say. Those tainted with other items were firmly placed away, and in this case, would likely not need to be drawn out.

❝ Szechuan pepper, earthy vetiver, and vanilla create a comforting scent that I find popular amongst male clients, However, if your man is more of a ‘serious’ individual, moepel accord, basil and lavender, and labdanum mixed with sandalwood work well. Tell me, is he a very cold, callous person? ❞

               ❝ It’s for a bloke... yeah. ❞                Shiloh was not terribly sure how to respond to that, or how to take that information and apply it to the subject at hand--scents were not his specialty, after all. Let alone what insight someone’s scent could offer about their personality or how they maneuvered in this twisting road of life. When it got to the listing of ingredients, Shiloh finally admitted that he had no idea what he was looking for, and turned to the shopkeeper in resignation.                The young man approached the counter to speak to the other properly, but his gaze shifted downwards at the question. Now how did he answer that? He had no real way of knowing, aside from text conversations, and text was a poor judge of character. No tone, no inflection, no way of reading someone. Yet... so many ways, but not in the way to answer the question as to Crane’s temperament.               ❝ I just don’t... I don’t know...          I’ve never met him in person,          well, I mean... in passing, I saw          the back of him, but we’ve never          talked face-to-face. He usually          just texts me--he doesn’t leave          his office much.                ❝ I don’t really know what          sort of temperament he’s got, I          know he wears this big black,          sort of heavy overcoat. I know          he wears tweed--or at least he          wore tweed pants. I’m taking it          as a tweed suit or something.          You look really eccentric          wearing tweed trousers with          other outfits... ❞                Shiloh cleared his throat--r a m b l i n g, he was rambling again. What all did he know that was relevant?               ❝ He must spend a good          amount of time around horses, he          moves kind of like a deer, and I          think. Hm. He seems s a d. That’s          all I’ve got. ❞

Immigration to the New Americana ||| blanc-perfumes

[sonderliing-blog]

therianthropichealer:

sonderliing:

               ❝ So it’s got some meaning          behind it. That’s s o m e meaning. ❞                 In a single blink Shiloh could swear he saw the ink of the predator on her skin shift, or ripple in some way. He was about to look closer, when there was a sudden blur of motion in his periphery. Motion that should not have been there. Some dark and shapeless–no, it was a rectangle. It was a black overcoat, and a flat-cap–a man that came from Crane’s office. Shiloh’s eyes narrowed, he could smell a stable-yard in the air that washed over the bar as the strange man brushed passed them. None of Crane’s people smelled that way, and none of them walked that way. Head held high, but shoulders sagged forward, legs moving with an odd sort of detached grace. He was sad, and at the same time, the way that he moved reminded him of the way that a deer moved when it knew good and well that a predator lurked nearby, but was not close enough to leap away. It was a pins and needles sensation that made Shiloh feel uncomfortable, but as the man walked through the pub and out the front door, Shiloh kept on watching without a doubt in his mind.                That man had been Father Crane.                The overcoat swept about him as he stepped outside, and Shiloh was left conflicted. On one hand, he wanted to chase after him, he wanted to ask his questions at long last, and on the other hand, fear held him in place. There was something neither here nor there about the figure as it faded into the darkness outside. The overcoat itself gave the appearance that Crane was a rather large man, bulky and intimidating, and yet, it was the bulk that gave his figure that instability. It hung off of him in the wrong places, and looked over-sized. While Crane looked big and imposing, he also looked small, like a boy who had tried on his father’s suit while he was away at work. Particularly as Crane moved his arms in a lazy swing as he walked, as though even his arms could not contain his bulk, but the swishing overcoat could not even find his waistline. Everything about the figure was a juxtaposition, between the back he had stared at, to the fact that it smelled as though a horse had just walked by them. The younger man kept gawking at the darkness outside the pub windows for a moment more, before he slowly backed off.                 ❝ I wonder if he always looks          so sad…               ❝ Ah! Sorry love. ❞                With a snap, his attention went back to his patron as the server brought over her first bit of food, just the slider appetizer. The distraction mildly muddying his mind as far as whether or not he had actually seen the tattoo move. He could have sworn…                H e  n e e d e d  s l e e p.

“Oh yes, quite a bit of meaning. Just how much meaning rather depends on one’s beliefs and how much they know.” A quick teasing grin was offered before Leona’s head tilted just a bit and she blinked before turning her entire head to gaze at Father Crane. Being a werecat her senses were better then most humans, and her life experiences had led her to notice things about people. There was a certain kind of prey that when pounced on could prove to be far more dangerous then the predator. Something about the man made her eyes narrow while she took a deep breath scenting the air without really thinking about it. In her experience whenever a paradox was found such as the man who had just walked by them. A threat or a danger could be found as well. That didn’t mean she needed to be scared though, Leona had met a wide range of people and found more often then not that simply with respect things could go well.

“Sad, yes… nothing in the entire world more dangerous then a man who doesn’t believe he has anything left to live for. I truly hope that man, whoever he was has something.” Voice soft the werecat tapped a pen slowly against the bar before blinking and shrugging. “Well what will be, will be. Not as though I’ve anything to offer. Still I rather wish…” Voice trailing off Leona seemed lost in thought for a moment. She was after all a Healer, trained and taught by others in her Pack before they had disappeared. It was as much a calling and instinct as anything else, and she couldn’t help but wish there was some way for to practice. That of course was nothing more then a dream though.

The sudden delivery of food brought a delighted smile as she tugged the plate in a bit close. “No worries at all cutie, so do you know that guy that just walked past or? I’m kinda new in town.” Without any regard at all for how hot the sliders still were she simply took two bites before swallowing. “Oh those are good indeed.” The next slider Leona took a bit of time with wanting to better appreciate the taste, but she was still eating rather quickly.

              ❝ He’s ah--he’s the owner of          this pub. At least, I think he is... ❞                Shiloh spoke slowly, his voice numb as his eyes struggled to find the figure again in the darkness outside of the pub. A pointless venture, but still he longed to simply dart out of the bar and check on him. He really did not look well at all, and Shiloh longed for an actual conversation, with actual answers, where Crane could not easily deflect or sign off.                ❝ I'm glad you like the sliders.          But you might wanna save some          room for your... o t h e r  s t u f f. ❞               Shiloh’s palms were sweating, his brow knit, and finally he turned back towards the bar and washed a couple of glasses in silence. Ignoring some unnamed need, and yet, a need he knew all too well. Shiloh had always had this need to save, and to f i x  p e o p l e. Even when he knew that he could never truly fix anyone, he wanted to understand them, help them to understand themselves. That way, they could learn how to help themselves, that was after all why he was going to school. But to see a man look so timid, so sad? That tugged at that instinct of his, that need, and Shiloh forced it down and away from himself. For now.

Kitty at a Pub

[sonderliing-blog]

blanc-perfumes:

sonderliing:

               His friends back home could tell him all that they wanted that the Americas were not what you saw on the telly, and nothing could convince Shiloh that was furthest from the truth at this point. Every person that he met seemed strange in one way or another, and he was beginning to see just how much of the illegal was legal in this city. Shiloh was not quite sure what side he was on, he just had the little pieces he had been given so far, and so far he had no complaints. Arriving at a shop that he had been charged with, as part of protection for the owner. Thugs, gangsters, or some such had been harassing and threatening the owner, and as far as Shiloh was concerned, it was noble to try and protect a small, independent business owner from the vultures and wolves in this city.                Gotham sucked everyone into it anyway.                The shop in question that they were protecting was a perfumery, It provided an opportunity, and that was to have an excuse to get an audience with his employer. Shiloh did not have much to go on, aside from having stared at the pub owners back for a minute or two, knowing that he wore bulky layers for one reason or another, and that he smelled of horses. Whether it was intentional or not, he smelled like a stable yard, and he moved like a deer about to be caught in headlights. Not much to go off of, but it was enough to get Shiloh to step into the shop, and look around the shelves in curiosity. It certainly did not smell like your average perfumery, Typically when Shiloh shopped for cologne, he was hit by the chemical and the artificial, a wave of stinging inflation that left him muddling through the mismatch of scents until he could distinguish one that he liked.                No, this was almost elegant when compared to a department shop, or a perfume shop one might find in a shopping mall. This was different.  Oleander Inc. was far less ostentatious to the nose, and Shiloh’s thoughts strayed from buying a gift to buying something for himself, along with the gift. For now, however, he scanned the shelves looking for something… natural, and woodsy. That seemed to match Crane fairly well.

@blanc-perfumes​

🅣🅗�� chiming of the set of silver bells above the door drew Sylvester’s gaze away from the computer he had been idly teaching himself to work, and towards the figure that had entered his store. It seemed to be a young man, younger than Sylvester but not by too much, who entered the store as though he had no sense of direction. In fact, he seemed so consumed by the store itself he neglected to notice Sylvester’s presence by the desk, instead moving to stare at the bottles on the shelf.

This was not unusual behavior for a customer. Many of them had become so conditioned to one type of store, entering this one often through them off. They were almost like drones in the way they acted sometimes.

❝ May I help you? ❞ 

He spoke with a soft tone, not too loud, but enough to get attention. Often Sylvester would just allow customers to wander about - pawing and gawking at whatever they please until they reached their decisions - but the man seemed a bit lost, or at least, in Sylvester’s opinion he did.

That, and there was the concern that this might be a new tactic of his ‘nuisances’ to try and pry his land from his hands.

                   As if they’d ever succeed.

Sylvester would have to die for someone to get his store; much like some animal, he was rather protective over what he knew was his. He had been so in Paris, and he would be here.

❝ You seem a little taken aback. ❞

              ❝ Yeah, I just... I’m looking for          something a little specific. I’m          looking for something woodsy.          Maybe a little earthy, or something          that’ll compliment someone who          already smells... kind of earthy. ❞                 A horse was earthy, right? Shiloh could not think of any pleasant way of putting the fact that he was shopping for a man who already smelled like a barn animal. More-so, how to say it in a way that did not seem as if he was saying that Crane smelled unpleasant, because he did not. It was simply... different. It was a dusty hay smell that felt old in a way, but certainly not unpleasant. It was almost soothing in the aged odor it gave off, sort of like the smell of an old book as opposed to a new one.               No, definitely for the best that Shiloh keep that bit to himself for now.               Shiloh glanced at a few more bottles before he glanced back at the shop keeper sheepishly, figuring that he owed him something of an explanation for such a general specification.                ❝ I don’t really know what the          bloke likes, so I’m just trying to          compliment... him as he is. ❞

Immigration to the New Americana ||| blanc-perfumes

[sonderliing-blog]

Reblog this if you're having fun playing your character.

Because it needs more of this. I want to see that people are having fun playing the muse that they’ve chosen. Not feeling obligated/pressured to play their muse the way they “should”; ie, the way others might try to pressure them into doing and trying to control them.

[sonderliing-blog]

Immigration to the New Americana ||| blanc-perfumes

               His friends back home could tell him all that they wanted that the Americas were not what you saw on the telly, and nothing could convince Shiloh that was furthest from the truth at this point. Every person that he met seemed strange in one way or another, and he was beginning to see just how much of the illegal was legal in this city. Shiloh was not quite sure what side he was on, he just had the little pieces he had been given so far, and so far he had no complaints. Arriving at a shop that he had been charged with, as part of protection for the owner. Thugs, gangsters, or some such had been harassing and threatening the owner, and as far as Shiloh was concerned, it was noble to try and protect a small, independent business owner from the vultures and wolves in this city.                Gotham sucked everyone into it anyway.                The shop in question that they were protecting was a perfumery, It provided an opportunity, and that was to have an excuse to get an audience with his employer. Shiloh did not have much to go on, aside from having stared at the pub owners back for a minute or two, knowing that he wore bulky layers for one reason or another, and that he smelled of horses. Whether it was intentional or not, he smelled like a stable yard, and he moved like a deer about to be caught in headlights. Not much to go off of, but it was enough to get Shiloh to step into the shop, and look around the shelves in curiosity. It certainly did not smell like your average perfumery, Typically when Shiloh shopped for cologne, he was hit by the chemical and the artificial, a wave of stinging inflation that left him muddling through the mismatch of scents until he could distinguish one that he liked.                No, this was almost elegant when compared to a department shop, or a perfume shop one might find in a shopping mall. This was different.  Oleander Inc. was far less ostentatious to the nose, and Shiloh’s thoughts strayed from buying a gift to buying something for himself, along with the gift. For now, however, he scanned the shelves looking for something... natural, and woodsy. That seemed to match Crane fairly well.

@blanc-perfumes​

[sonderliing-blog]

therianthropichealer:

sonderliing:

             ❝ You didn’t miss out on much          at school, I’m in it for the long          haul. You missed out on a lot of          paperwork, and some awkward          parties. So, I’m guessing that          panthers are your favorite           animal? What’s the story behind          this one, then? ❞             Shiloh murmured as he looked over the tattoo, the ink certainly had a peculiar level of depth to it, while it was not iridescent in appearance, there seemed to be levels to the black that gave the tattoo a more vivid appearance. The young man practically forgot about the strangeness of the young woman’s order as they settled into a normal conversation.               ❝ And you did this one on          yourself? That’s… really quite          impressive, actually! Did it hurt          a great deal? ❞

Blinking once or twice Leona shook her head giggling. “Oh you’d be surprised to hear of some of the parties I’ve managed to get an invite to. You would indeed be correct the story is simple really.” That smile faded from her face, not in a way that made her look somber or sad but simply contemplative as she gazed down at the tattoo. “You could say a panther made me who I am today, you could also say a panther saved my life.” Both things technically correct as she was after all a shifter who became a panther. Without those abilities Leona would be someone else entirely.

For a moment the tattoo would almost seem to shift as though the panther moved and looked up at Shiloh, but just as quickly it returned to it’s original position. Just a trick of the eye no doubt. “And yepp, I did that one all myself. Designed, drew, whole bit.” The question about pain brought a shrug as she smiled at him. “That really depends on a person’s definition of what hurts a lot. To some people a tattoo is the worst pain ever, to some it’s practically nothing. Some people also find it does hurt, but they enjoy it because of the endorphins. I have a high pain tolerance, and also heal quickly so that kind of skews my perspective. A tattoo’s placement actually does a lot for how much it does or does not hurt. Sensitive area, or spots close to the bone can get rather uncomfortable.”

               ❝ So it’s got some meaning          behind it. That’s s o m e meaning. ❞                 In a single blink Shiloh could swear he saw the ink of the predator on her skin shift, or ripple in some way. He was about to look closer, when there was a sudden blur of motion in his periphery. Motion that should not have been there. Some dark and shapeless--no, it was a rectangle. It was a black overcoat, and a flat-cap--a man that came from Crane’s office. Shiloh’s eyes narrowed, he could smell a stable-yard in the air that washed over the bar as the strange man brushed passed them. None of Crane’s people smelled that way, and none of them walked that way. Head held high, but shoulders sagged forward, legs moving with an odd sort of detached grace. He was sad, and at the same time, the way that he moved reminded him of the way that a deer moved when it knew good and well that a predator lurked nearby, but was not close enough to leap away. It was a pins and needles sensation that made Shiloh feel uncomfortable, but as the man walked through the pub and out the front door, Shiloh kept on watching without a doubt in his mind.                That man had been Father Crane.                The overcoat swept about him as he stepped outside, and Shiloh was left conflicted. On one hand, he wanted to chase after him, he wanted to ask his questions at long last, and on the other hand, fear held him in place. There was something neither here nor there about the figure as it faded into the darkness outside. The overcoat itself gave the appearance that Crane was a rather large man, bulky and intimidating, and yet, it was the bulk that gave his figure that instability. It hung off of him in the wrong places, and looked over-sized. While Crane looked big and imposing, he also looked small, like a boy who had tried on his father’s suit while he was away at work. Particularly as Crane moved his arms in a lazy swing as he walked, as though even his arms could not contain his bulk, but the swishing overcoat could not even find his waistline. Everything about the figure was a juxtaposition, between the back he had stared at, to the fact that it smelled as though a horse had just walked by them. The younger man kept gawking at the darkness outside the pub windows for a moment more, before he slowly backed off.                 ❝ I wonder if he always looks          so sad...               ❝ Ah! Sorry love. ❞                With a snap, his attention went back to his patron as the server brought over her first bit of food, just the slider appetizer. The distraction mildly muddying his mind as far as whether or not he had actually seen the tattoo move. He could have sworn...                H e  n e e d e d  s l e e p.

Kitty at a Pub

[sonderliing-blog]

        ❝ All these questions they’re forming like:                         Who would you 𝓵𝓲𝓿𝒆 𝒇𝓸𝓻?                                 Who would you 𝓭𝓲𝒆 𝒇𝓸𝓻?                                           𝓐𝓷𝓭 𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝒆𝓿𝒆𝓻 𝓴𝓲𝓵𝓵? ❞         MAIN ||| ABOUT ||| RULES ||| INQUIRE

[sonderliing-blog]

therianthropichealer:

sonderliing:

              ❝ I wouldn’t know what to          get, I don’t think the meaningful          part of my life’s really happened          yet. ❞              Shiloh admitted with a light shrug, and it didn’t bother him necessarily. He thought of himself as being young, and having an infinite span of life ahead of him. Once he was out of school, he was certain that his life would suddenly conjure up some grand meaning, and the destiny he had been spinning for himself would make itself clear. The drawing, however, caught him off guard and he offered the young woman a broad, surprised grin.                ❝ Oh wow! Thank you! Look          at that, that’s lovely! You didn’t          have to do that. So, you do          tattooing, yeah? Do you draw or          design any of your own? ❞

“Life is as meaningful as we decide to make it at any point. Just this, two people chatting can be meaningful. Both of us learning from the other. Never know what might happen.” Offering a playful little grin Leona shrugged. “Suppose that’s why I never stay in one place too long. Can’t help but wonder just what is over the next hill. Never gone to any real school actually.”

The reaction to her drawing couldn’t help but bring a pleased smile to her as she took another drink eyes flickering for a moment towards the kitchen before looking back to Shiloh and nodding. “I’m happy you like it! I’ve still got a lot of practicing and learning to do, but I like to think I’m not bad.” Most of her tattoos were in fact someone else’s work. Primarily because it took a special kind of ink with what she was, and she was hardly about to explain that. One particular design however she had done and leaning forward Leona stretched out her arm to let him see a large black panther stretched out along her forearm and yawning.

“This one I gave myself. Figured can’t rightly ask others to trust my needle if I don’t trust it on myself ya? I don’t have a studio or anything though.” It was a tattoo done all in color, deep shapes of blue and purple mixed together to form an almost mystical looking black while the cat’s eyes were the same exact shade of green as Leona’s.  

             ❝ You didn’t miss out on much          at school, I’m in it for the long          haul. You missed out on a lot of          paperwork, and some awkward          parties. So, I’m guessing that          panthers are your favorite           animal? What’s the story behind          this one, then? ❞             Shiloh murmured as he looked over the tattoo, the ink certainly had a peculiar level of depth to it, while it was not iridescent in appearance, there seemed to be levels to the black that gave the tattoo a more vivid appearance. The young man practically forgot about the strangeness of the young woman’s order as they settled into a normal conversation.               ❝ And you did this one on          yourself? That’s... really quite          impressive, actually! Did it hurt          a great deal? ❞

Kitty at a Pub

[sonderliing-blog]

flockofpan:

sonderliing:

flockofpan:

♞            [Text to: Shiloh] If you          would like, what do you          need?

              [txt] I don’t need anything,          I just wanted to talk to you.               [txt] No specific topic in          mind, just you know, talking.          The way people do.

♞            [Text to: Shiloh] I see, as         you wish.               [Text to: Shiloh] How are         your grades looking thus         far? Classes looking okay?

             [txt] Omg, you are such a          dad.              [txt] School just started, so          they look fine, I can read a          syllabus. Yay!               [txt] Not like everything          before grad school taught me          that or anything. I like it          though, the classes are fairly          small and I’m excited to see          what I can do for my          dissertation.

August Texts III III flockofpan

[sonderliing-blog]

flockofpan:

sonderliing:

              [txt] Evening, Father.          Can we talk? @flockofpan

♞            [Text to: Shiloh] If you          would like, what do you          need?

              [txt] I don’t need anything,          I just wanted to talk to you.               [txt] No specific topic in          mind, just you know, talking.          The way people do.

August Texts III III flockofpan

[sonderliing-blog]

August Texts III III flockofpan

              [txt] Evening, Father.          Can we talk? @flockofpan

[sonderliing-blog]

therianthropichealer:

sonderliing:

               ❝ I like dogs, yeah, but not          so much I’d get a random one          tattooed on my person…. ❞              From the back hallway, a door opened, and Shiloh went still. Considering for a moment that perhaps Father Crane had finally emerged from his hiding hole–otherwise known as his office. He walked forward to peak around the bar to see if his boss was indeed walking out. The door certainly had opened, but he did not see anyone walking out. Perhaps someone had walked in? Disappointed, Shiloh returned to the bar–there were days where he just wanted to go up and knock on the door just to see if the owner would actually open the door. There were also days where he simply wanted to ask for advice or policies regarding some of the more… strange patrons.                 ❝ You mentioned beer–did you          want a drink? We’ve got Guinness           on tap, and we do have bottled beer          aside from that. The owner mostly          sticks to whiskey, so the beer          selection is a little limited. ❞

Her pen never stopped moving as Leona’s eyes flickered from paper to Shiloh and back again. That moment when he went still struck her and a little smile crossed her face. A part of her wondered just what it was he wanted so badly. Another part simply tried to capture it on paper. “Well of course not a random one. A good tattoo, in my opinion, means something. All of mine do.”

That pen started to slow as slight details started to get added in before she paused considering his offer. “Wellllll… that’s a lovely offer cutie but honestly…” Biting at her bottom lip she took a moment to consider the wadded up ball of cash still on the counter before sighing. “Na, LeeLee needs to save at least a bit of money. Maybe I can get a hotdog or two tomorrow something. The waters good enough.” A couple more little strokes of the pen, a quick copy of the picture taken with her phone so she could remember it before she pulled the paper out of her sketchbook and offered it up to Shiloh with a smile. “Here! I ah… can offer a tip, but not a proper one. Always makes me feel kinda bad so I try to make up for a small tip with a drawing in addition..” A faint blush was on her cheeks as her eyes flickered away for a moment and she shrugged. “Sides I like to draw.”

              ❝ I wouldn’t know what to          get, I don’t think the meaningful          part of my life’s really happened          yet. ❞              Shiloh admitted with a light shrug, and it didn’t bother him necessarily. He thought of himself as being young, and having an infinite span of life ahead of him. Once he was out of school, he was certain that his life would suddenly conjure up some grand meaning, and the destiny he had been spinning for himself would make itself clear. The drawing, however, caught him off guard and he offered the young woman a broad, surprised grin.                ❝ Oh wow! Thank you! Look          at that, that’s lovely! You didn’t          have to do that. So, you do          tattooing, yeah? Do you draw or          design any of your own? ❞

Kitty at a Pub