what do you mean my behavior is UNACCEPTABLE? -

[medea]

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[/i] time. She'd gathered battered cups, broken plates, and a rusted through old kettle to complete her tea set. She'd been so taken with her modified wand that the little girl had simply forgotten to demand a proper tea set, far too occupied with learning how to flick the blades in and out. By the time Medea had remembered, she was already back to the hospital, thoroughly disappointed that she hadn't found one of those disgusting animals to try out her new toy. The little girl sighed, her maroon colored eyes looking over her set with something resembling pride.

Each cup had its place, pushed onto a somewhat sturdy old wooden bench. The room which she had chosen had plenty of natural light, facing the west side, and this one even had a bed still. Medea grinned, sauntering over to the shambled bathroom which she kept all of her dresses, stripping out of the goddess outfit. "It's not fit for a tea party now is it?" She chirped, mostly to herself. Medea rather didn't care if other Viruses heard her, because she didn't believe any of them would be quite so foolish to steal her lovely little tea party.

She knew she wasn't the only virus residing in Palaside hospital, and at least one dirty animal lived here too. But she was Aeron's little toy, and Medea was not allowed to touch. She went through her dresses, skipping over the ones she deemed unworthy. That keeper had done a terrible job on the selection, and she cursed him under her breath. She chose something eventually, pulling down something purple and black with a hat. She shoved her arms and head through the sleeves, before skipping back out to her party.

As she settled down next to the table, Medea leaned back her head and laughed. It echoed through the halls, the sound highpitched and crazy sounding. Almost like someone from an insane asylum who hadn't taken their medicine. She took the rusted kettle and began to pour simple air into the cups, not bothering with the water since none of those present liked it. Did something to the virus' chemical makeup. She banged the kettle down when she was finished, her sharp gaze flickering to the doorway to her room. It was open, and now she just needed some guests. Or victims, depending on how you see it.
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[/color] Open
Notes; First post >D She rambled bunches Outfit
Word Count; Too Lazeh... D:
Lyrics; HARDER TO BREATHE | MAROON 5
Credits; NIKE @ CAUTION 2.0
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[aeron]

The laughter awoke him from his doze, Aeron’s multi-colored head shooting up from it’s resting place on one of the worn office desks. It made him sigh, what was going on now? He hoped that Cyren hadn’t brought back anything odd again but his trust in the other Virus’ judgment was lacking and so he arose silently from the rusted and broken spinning chair. Aeron was intent on locating the source of the laughter before it either woke up his sleeping toy or even worse did something to harm his Dolly. He would not tolerate anything that could put his pet in danger and he’d made that clear when he’d first settled in the hospital and begun to let other viruses in. He hadn’t particularly wanted the company but he understood that his kind needed somewhere safe to stay when their masters, the beloved Keepers, created rainfall. Still he monitored the ones that were allowed in, made sure that they all knew the rules, and made any that got close to his pet regret the day they were born.

Aeron was almost glad that he always had Jigsaw, Cyren, and Sar, to back him up. They’d been the first few after all, along with Sar’s brother, who admittedly did most of the caretaking and watching over Dolly. They all made an odd gang but the five some had always been able to co-exist in relative peace, chasing out other viruses when need be. He’d rather like to keep it that way. Just the five of them.

He walked down the hallways briskly, if you could even call it that. Aeron’s strides alternated between a fast shuffle and a leisurely stroll, and if he’d been a human he might have tumbled because of his jerky moments but he was a virus so he stayed in perfect balance, a frown set in his face. Trouble was not a pleasant thing for him, not on a day like this. He’d caught a human sniffing around and he’d screwed it up! Aeron had infected her! A perfectly good research subject had shown up right on his doorstep and in some sort of blind rage he’d infected her, how could he’d been so stupid? The mistake had put him in a foul mood all week, even snuggling with his Dolly hadn’t helped any. There was no cure for this misery it seemed, not in till he could cure the disease that was humanity, not in till then could he be truly happy.

Another noise from a nearby room caught his attention and with an annoyed little flick of his head to clear the bangs from his eyes, Aeron entered. To his dismay there was a child there, he could remember her from somewhere but couldn’t exactly place it. Yet even as his fist clenched around the chain that dangled from his waist, the girl’s scent was screaming Virus, that was how he knew her. How unfortunate. Another new visitor was infringing on what he had come to consider his turf, or at the very least his gang’s turf. “Who are you, little girl? And what are you doing disturbing my rest?” Tilting his head to a nearly impossible angle as he leaned against the doorframe, Aeron let out a tiny but scolding chirp. “Children shouldn’t play here, it’s not safe.”

Ooc: UH. Sorry people I owe stuff! ButbutIpromisedtohitallopenhostipalthreadsifKrissorKitcouldn't!<3

[nim]

Nimet started at the peal of laughter. Laughter of such volume in the hospital wasn't a common thing...much less that of children. He couldn't recall a time when any child had entered the hospital. He guessed the strangely protective shifters made a policy of making sure it stayed that way. The sound was close, which was good. It meant he wouldn't have to walk very far to satisfy his curiosity.

As he reached the door his eyes darted to the side and he noticed another virus. Aeron, he presumed. The one with the toy shifter. Nimet hadn't been brave enough to ask if he could see or perhaps even talk to her, curious though he was about what she could tell him about her kind. Aeron and his little group had been showing that strange protectiveness he had observed in Shifters when their companions were threatened. He nodded toward him, a bobbing, cheerful greeting.

"Well hellooo, there." The lanky virus peeked around the doorway at the little tea party that had been set up. He glanced at the mismatched and battered tea set, his eyes twinkling with something that could have been described as either merriment or hysteria. "How...interesstiiing." there was that voice again. Nimet shrank slightly as he glanced to the side to see the phantom of his other self. It grinned, revealing wicked fangs, and Nim found himself grinning too. The party certainly was interesting, and so was the newest virus of the Menagerie. He slipped inside and switched his gaze from the table to the girl in purple and black.

"You must be Medea." he said with a cock of his head. It had to be. Her eyes were a piercing maroon...and what child, who wasn't a virus, would be allowed by the shifters to venture so far in? His grin grew a little insane as he continued, "I'm Nimet." The table drew the virus's eyes again and his gaze grew cautious. "Do I need an invitation or is it first come first serve?"

"Who cares what she says? She's just a girl."

"An interesting girl."

"You mean scary? Are you scarrred?" the beast purred as it stalked around the room in Nimet's eyes. Scared of the new little terror the keepers have unleashed?"

"No. I..." just want to be careful. I just want to know."

The conversation was short and mumbled, and a careful ear could catch it, just as a careful eye could see Nim was growing increasingly twitchy and anxious. This was not; however, due to the girl. Well, it was in part. The majority of the credit though, went to the hallucinations of the poor virus. It could be said that it was one of those 'bad days' for him. His other self had been pestering and berating him constantly, and it was starting to wear on Nim. His normal cheerfulness was quickly dissolving into a 'hatter-esque' hysteria. He turned his eyes toward Medea once again, the same smile hovering on his lips.

[sarcoline]

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[atrb=background, fotos.fotoflexer.com/4ca0c763f61c52043226ba17a665e90e.jpg] It was shocking such a massive creature could move with such silent elegance and grace—a monstrous, towering body slunk across the hallway, instinctively remaining in the shadows that would only thicken as soon as darkness fell. Sarcoline ought to have been nocturnal, and he practically was; he lurked during the daytime, dozing on and off, and only emerged at night when he could really hunt. The Virus, of course, had twisted ideals for the dark. He gave him the element of surprise and normalcy, turning his thick voice sweet and sultry as his victims were lured to their demise, sometimes led by his brother. Such petty creatures, those shapeshifters were—so easily disposed of or destroyed, and then tied up to string to be led and dragged about by the master puppeteer. Maybe that was one of the reasons why Sarcoline liked his prey to be young and small; more easily manipulated after their death, in which their bodies blundered into a state of stiffness. His tail slid across the tile floors, occasionally lashing out like a felines. His body was unlike any other on earth—a mingled monster of the blue ringed octopus, the jaguar, and the tiger shark. A nightmare come to life, ringed in iridescent blue and abysmal black rosettes, with teeth serrated and triangle-shaped, designed to slash and shred. Not to mention he had an entire extra set of limbs—behind his forelimbs was another set entirely, claws ranking across the floors as the monstrosity lurched forward in subtle grace. The bulky mass of the jaguar body, multiplied double, was smoothly muscled and powerful, but moved with elegance and speed. He seemed to catch on the shadows, seams of his body binding to the thick canvas of clustering darkness, before being ripped away against as he darted into another obscure pool. He was uneasy, for some perpetual reason—shoulders hunched forward, head slung low. His nostrils flared, eyes focused ahead of him as he tracked down the scent. It was faintly, fleetingly familiar, but he did not possess the memory to recall from where. Rather, he did not feel it truthfully necessary. The odor reeked of Virus stank, and the puppeteer drug himself forward. The aroma did not belong to any of his familiar comrades, but rather, to some creature that he hadn’t encountered more than once. Sarcoline had a fairly stagnate recollection, one that sometimes seemed to only be locked on certain events. One easy reason as to why he did not change very much, even through progressions of years. His tactics and personality remained the same. As it was, the Virus finally found a place where voices peeled away and echoed in the hollow corridors of the hospital, practically abandoned save the Viruses that dwelt in the walls. Sarcoline returned to his human shape, remaining in the shadows, until he stalked forward and into the doorway where he caught site of a gathering of creatures. Surprise, surprise. For an instant he loomed outside, tall and imposing and monstrous, his tricolored eyes glinting like a combination of devilish gems. His forbidding, unnatural gaze flicked at the direction of Aeron. A familiar face was welcomed just then, and the master puppeteer shifted forward on silent feet. The way he moved was noticeably eerie, like a creature that ought to have wings but doesn’t—or, better yet, like a feline who is always on the hunt, just waiting for the opportunity to kill and strike. He moved naturally towards Aeron, the more trusted in the room—he would have preferred Melanic, honestly, for he knew his brother more than he’d ever know any of these other beasts. Nonetheless, his trust was a waning thing, and it did not seem to exist at all. Sarcoline looked to the girl first, the source of echoing and gleeful laughter, and his eyes took in her tea party before landing on her face and sticking there, lifeless and strange and haunting—his horizontal pupils did not shift or change, not as he stared at her unblinking. ”Blood,” the master puppeteer murmured softly, his voice like the soft beat of an owl’s wing on the air; almost completely silent, and whatever noise could be heard was very ethereal indeed. ”... you can’t use water or real tea. It would be much more enticing than empty cups, little she-demon.” His lips cocked, but the grin lacked in humor, it seemed more like a jagged line opening in his face—as if someone had cut across his lips with a serrated blade, revealing sharp shark-like teeth beneath. Then his orbs, two mingling abysses of blue, gold, and bright yellow, flicked indolently to Nimet without his head moving once. The gray, leathery ears that sat in a nest of his tangled, messy ebony hair rotated to hark into the noises around him. His strange tail coiled, and he crossed his double sets of arms. ”Aeron, have you been dragging in strays or something? I can’t say that these faces are very familiar, but the scents ring a bell or two.” His voice remained that wing-beat whisper, face twisted into an impassive expression, a hard smile curling at his lips although this one exposed no teeth. Sarcoline, needless to say, was not always very fond of his own kind. This was his territory, his and his own, not these strangers… although… he couldn’t kick them out just yet, he supposed. Besides—the girl seemed interesting, and the male’s lips moved under the shadows of his face. occ;! sorry for making this thread uberlong.

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[cyleblanc]

Cy entertained a guest of his own. Its presence was far less intrusive than that of some others of late. He'd happened across it while wandering down the empty corridors, and had been so delighted that he'd immediately plopped on the floor beside it. The 'guest' in question was, in fact, a medium-sized month--no larger than the length of a pinky finger. It was a bright and vivid white, with thin bands of black across its wings--looking for all the world as if some bored child had taken a pen and scribbled all over its back in a moment of boredom. At first, he'd been content to watch it as it crawled across the floor, scooting along after it whenever it got too far from him for his tastes.

Sometimes, the insect would go utterly still after Cyren's enthusiastic pursuit. Often, it remained frozen in one position for so long, that his brows would crease with concern, and he would reach out with a ginger finger, stroking the soft, short fur of its body. Predictably, the insect would jump, and Cy would flinch back in turn, and the cycle would begin again. After several minutes worth of such nonsense, he finally managed to coax the moth onto his finger, its spindly, delicate legs like lace against the stark contrast of his skin--the sensation of its legs peculiar enough to draw broad grin of absolute delight across his lips.

It was then that he heard the laughter. High and foreign--and unwelcome. Cy huffed, barely suppressing a grimace. It would be expected of him to investigate the source of the troublesome noise--after all, that had been part of the arrangement when he’d taken up residence in the hospital wings. But doing so meant that he’d have to abandon his new found friend--and that hardly seemed fair. Pale gray eyes narrowing in annoyance, he cupped his fingers around the slight insect in a shallow prison, raising his hand and lightly depositing it onto his left shoulder. The moth didn't seem to protest its sudden change in elevation--indeed, it almost seemed intrigued, small, feathered antennae waving in a crooked pattern--first the left, slightly lifted, and then the right. Once he was certain that his wayward companion wouldn't slip off, he broke into an easy lope down the hall.

The source of the noise had long since fallen silent, but it didn't trouble Cyren. He had a keen sense of smell, and it was this that he relied on in favor of his hearing. At first, he noticed nothing out of the ordinary--stale scents that crisscrossed each other in fading ribbons of recentness--both those familiar, and those not. But it wasn't long in the least before he stumbled across them--raw, bitter in their alien nature. The scent of soil and dust. They'd come from outside. Cyren's temper flared, then. Not only would he have to abandon any hopes of further play with his bug friend, but they had somehow managed to slip undetected past his post. Unacceptable.

A low, guttural snarl formed in his throat, and he dropped heavily to his knees, shifting on the descent. The moth, who until then had withstood his jarring pace, lifted from his shoulder with the whisper of two frantic wing strokes, taking to the air. Cy's head tipped back in dismay, tracking it as it gained altitude and disappeared into the murky shadows of the ceiling. His canine ears dropped rather pitifully for a moment. When his head straightened once more, there was a feral glint to the pale silver of his eyes. A thin strand of drool began its slow descent from the left corner of his mouth, his lips drawing back in a snarl. He set off at a run--his steps no longer cautious, without his previous rider.

It was then that he stumbled into the doorway that hung ajar, fur bristling and eyes glaring. Sarcoline blocked his line of vision slightly--Cyren's head even with his waist. Even so, the small child perched imperiously at the table side, was unmistakable. The fur along his spine bristled, and his jaws snapped once with a hollow click of vicious intent. Aeron, he saw, was also present. He likewise seemed far from impressed with the child's presence.

Cyren was just about to act on his impulse to seize the child's minute leg between his jaws and swing her frail body 'round until it dashed against the wall, when he caught the form of Nimet out of the corner of his eye. He tensed. No, the guard hound of the hospital was not pleased by the unexpected guests.

"You don't belong here." His words were blunt and concise.

[medea]

She hadn't expected quite this large of a turn out. Their threats and brutish statements did little to chill her spine because this was expected. If she'd been expecting something resembling 'welcome' she'd have been sorely disappointed by this point. Maroon eyes lingered on mismatched set, lips pursed as she rose slightly to her feet. She did not have enough spaces for the large males at her table, because she had indeed forgotten she was perhaps the smallest of viruses. She was the youngest that she knew of, barely out of the test tube compared to these guys. Medea let her gaze wander over Aeron first, the seemingly leader type of the group. He would have been intimidating, but there was some kind of off switch on the part of her brain that recognized fear. That emotion hadn’t been triggered, released, or what have you. A smile twisted her features, gloved arms folding over her flat chest. She was far from being a woman, from hitting ‘puberty’ as the Keeper’s had put it. But her mind was well beyond her years, mostly. ”It’s rude to lurk in doorways, Mortem. I call myself Medea. Though I’ve been watching you and your following for a while now. She carefully avoided bringing up Dolly, the animal that Aeron kept. Medea didn’t want to reveal all she knew, at least…not yet.

And then her darling Nimet came through the door. Her face lit up, knowing that he’d been released only shortly before she had; so of course he knew her name. They had never had the pleasure of meeting one another, until today however. She took her seat, gesturing to one of the chairs next to her. ”Nimet. Come, come, sit. I was just speaking with our lovely Aeron here. This little party requires no invitations by any means. However, if you come to the next one without your invite…there could be trouble. I have quite the guest list you know.” She chirped, the sophisticated words sounding rather odd in her little girl voice. Her rambling ceased, as she cleared her throat settling back down. The little girl brushed her hand through her hair, rubbing over the widow’s mark. She was so nonchalant, as if these people were already friends instead of acquaintances. That was surely something that the keeper’s would have to correct before she went further. Medea was utterly straight forward with people, not seeming to understand that she could and would be harmed.

She was still a little more focused on Nimet than she should have been when Sarcoline made his own appearance. She sighed lightly, finding that really not many were coming to her table. Sad day, sad day. Medea was trying very hard to hold her temper, the re-enforced wand in her hand being clenched in her fist. Her lips twisted up slightly, liking his suggestion however. ”Shall I put you down to bring it next time, kitty? No one seems to take me very seriously when it comes to threats, but you look like you’d have no problem getting some blood for my empty cups. Those Keepers refuse to give me any either.” Her bottom lip pouted, thinking of how mean those keepers could be. She rolled her eyes, looking over the three inside her chosen room. Quite outnumbered. She cracked her knuckles, as yet another male came into the room. He was more barbaric than the rest…something she could respect. Her upper lip curled, watching the animal with wary intentions. ”My, my, as if that fact hasn’t been stated already.” She was coarse with her words, baring her little spider fangs at him. The mix of lion had given her those jaws, but set inside those nasty teeth were a pair of potentially venomous fangs. ”Call off your dog, Aeron. If you wouldn’t mind. I’m here to request a place with you lot, since this hospital is a lot more respectable than what’s out there.” She made the request of Aeron, but her gaze never left Cyren LeBlanc. She knew a danger when she saw one, but it was always the fear that was lacking.

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ooc: sorry for the wait!