(( EDIT: Considering Blitz has sadly left the team, I’ve changed my introduction a little. Sorry for being awkward, lol. ^^; ))[You must be registered and logged in to see this image.]Faraway Island | Sunset 
Mickey was bored – bored as fuck, as he would eloquently put it. He hadn’t seen one measly undead in weeks, any glimpses of even a partially rational being in months; and so he looked forward to company no matter how hideous or hell-bent on killing him they proved. It was something at least, something to draw his attention away from the ongoing, suffocating loneliness of this new world. The Archeops hated it. The monsters he could deal with. He’d spent his entire life fighting – fighting on command, fighting for acceptance, fighting to defend and most importantly, fighting for himself, for revenge. Unsurprisingly, the youth had absolutely no problem killing the infected beasts that continued to ravage the land. It was the loneliness that ate away his spirit.
Trudging aimlessly through some godforsaken forest he’d stumbled into, Mickey had decided to make a game out of navigating through the place – though admittedly, his patience was beginning to wear thin. He’d been ‘playing’ in the maze for almost an hour now. Of course, he could finish his own mental challenge whenever he wanted – a few beasts of his powerful wings would free him of the leafy prison, but he was stubborn. Unwilling to accept defeat and back down from a challenge, even one set by his own, restless mind, Mickey was content to walk in circles for the time being.
However, as he trudged onwards, a pair of faint voices arrived to tempt his unfathomable curiosity. Stopping in his tracks, eyes wide and alert for movement or any telltale signs of the sounds’ locations, Mickey’s focus was wholly ensnared. The moment he heard a shaky reply, some creature begging for mercy – he was off.
Darting through the forest with a surprising grace, the Archeops burst through the foliage in a tornado of leaves to arrive ceremoniously a short distance from a pair of Umbreon. His eyes instantly fell to the canine cowering on the ground, sobbing uncontrollably whilst the other seemed only a sight less
apprehensive. What was this? Sniffing the air, eyeing the pair carefully with his famously judgemental stare, the bird’s face eventually broke into a lax grin. There was no scent of the infection – only the familiar whiff of fear accompanying their scents. “Whatthefuck he’s cryin’ ‘bout?”
It was near unintelligible. Running his words together in that lightning fast, Irish drawl, Mickey had always proven a challenge to understanding. Smiling, almost cheeky in his demeanour, he strolled forward without a care in the world to peer down at the sobbing dark-type. “Whatthefuck you cryin’ ‘bout, lad?”
He tilted his head to the side in a comical fashion, searching for the Umbreon’s teary eyes with his own spritely, brown orbs. Although particularly rough, his dialect common amongst the gypsy community, Mickey meant only to reassure the youngster. Of course, most foreigners failed to notice the flicker of kindness he worked into his rushed, loud words. “He’s not gunna’eat cha – are ya, boy?”
He snapped his head to the other canine, eyes narrowing slightly just to make sure. “Are ya?”
(( Super happy to be here! :D ))