Who: Atlas & Volk What: Meeting Where: A field right next to the trailers and the woods & possibly elsewhere dependent on what happens next. When: Late Afternoon Rating: TBD Status: In Progress
Atlas was sitting outside on the steps of his trailer reading a local newspaper. He was itching to find something new and exciting to do. He had just figured out his next naughty little plan when he spotted a butterfly flitting about off in the distance. He rolled the newspaper up in his fist and went chasing the monarch across the field. He'd smacked his hand on a random person's trailer (he didn't know whose) to give himself a little momentum not wanting to lose the butterfly's trail. He ended up just in front of the first row of trees that led into the woods. That's where he caught up to it and extended a hand. The mothman stuck the rolled newspaper in the back pocket of his fashion-torn jeans and wore chain-mail covered boots that rose to his knees. There were tattoos boldly displayed from under what barely covered his upper body, a couple leather straps and more chains. But, there was a contrast to the Mothman's flaunty hard-core exterior as his upturned palm held the butterfly on the tip of his middle finder like a pedestal, smiling, delicately bringing the fragile, colorful-winged creature to his face, whispering to it. He was just about to say something else when he turned his head, hearing someone coming. He turned with a pair of turquoise eyes to the stranger, "Hello" was the only word that came from his mouth. His free hand came up to cover the monarch in a protective manner. He didn't know this person and wasn't sure if he was from the Carnival or an outsider.