While Georgia was still settling in herself, she'd begun to assemble a routine of sorts. She functioned better on one - let her move throughout her day with some purpose instead of an aimless wander. She'd finally moved out of the tavern and into one of the rooms aboard the ship; the rock of the sea helped her to sleep at night. The ship was mostly reserved for members of the Grim Rays division, as she had learned, and she was eager to start on a path to reach that title and enrollment. She took nightly walks after dinner, making sure to shuffle through the fluffy sand before edging closer to the gentle waves where the sand was packed harder and more firm. She'd watch the fish dance about in the shallows, walking a yard or so into the surf and using her power to push the water away from her so she could observe them up close. It was important to her that the shallows and shores of her beaches were safe and functioning.

Unfortunately, that was really where her crafting of a schedule stopped. She'd been wrestling with the idea of decorating her new cabin in the ship and whether or not she was really to stay here. She liked it well enough, but it hadn't satisfied the curse that itched under her skin. She still felt detached and lost - like she didn't belong.

To cope with these thoughts, Georgia had started to nap more often; she could never get enough of the heat the beach sand offered. It was on this day in particular that she had just started to stretch out, sand climbing into all the bits of her fur that she'd blow out later. It was her favorite texture; she couldn't stay away from it.

And then, just on the other side of the treeline, a commotion startled the girl out of her sleepy state.

Instantly, her mood soured. Instantly, she was up, rather irritated at the amount of strangers that were appearing on this island (even if she was just another one) and the fact that people had to monitor who they were and what they wanted. Muttering through grit teeth under her breath, Georgia stalked back into the treeline to find the trespasser who was so desperately begging for her attention.

The second she came across the stranger, she wasted no time in attempting to blast him backwards with a gust of air. The gust was warm and held flecks of sand in it, bitter with sea salt. He was, after all, over their borders. "Hey genius," The slim feline bit out, ears ticked backwards in her annoyance. "The hell do you want?" Georgia could feel her irritation mounting - her interrupted nap, his fucking arrogance, his smug expression. She really couldn't give a damn about what he wanted, in all honesty; and while diplomacy had never been her strong point, she wanted nothing more than to drown him.

As the puff of cinnamon tainted air washed over her face, Georgia froze, eyes blowing wide as saucers for a split moment. The sudden shift in smell and atmosphere short-circuted her brain, derailing most of her anger. She'd never really caught the scent of cinnamon before - it had always been salt and sour and sand. Cinnamon was warm; it was...fuzzy. It didn't really occur to her that the wind was from the stranger, and she was too shocked to make the connection.

When Calem spoke again, it was a begrudging flirt, though its intention bypassed Georgia entirely. It set her teeth on edge and shoved her right back into her previous irritated state of mind, the fur along her spine lifting. The nickname little urchin grinded against her ears, particularly childish and taunting. A slight glow lit the sea green of her eyes in her rage, and she muttered, "I'd rather settle for your face against a fucking tree trunk." She really didn't want to address the fact that he wanted somewhere to stay - and just about flat out told him to go look somewhere else. The mainland, maybe. "Very cute of you to think I drown them in sand, though." Gia cooed mockingly, pursing her lips at him. "I drown them in saltwater." Her eyes flashed, a subtle glint that dared him to push her. Fucking coward. Do it, pussy boy. Push me. Give me a reason to drown you. She thought mutinously.

Paola's arrival dragged her attention away from the ghostly, irritating stranger. The darker feline seemed cheery, lugging along a blanket. The overall good mood the new recruit was in rubbed Georgia's sour disposition further into her brain, and for a moment, a whirlwind of air curled inwards and down around the feline before dissolving in a rapid burst.

"No," Gia responded tartly. "He wants to join." And I want to drive his head into a tree. It was a little odd, perhaps, that her anger had stemmed mostly from being disturbed out of her nap - surely, people didn't usually get this bent out of shape due to a slight misunderstanding? And yet, here she was, tail lashing back and forth, easily ready and able and eager to slam him into the sand.

At the other girl's comment about them knocking each other out, Georgia ran her tongue over her teeth, eyes once again dragging back to the strange, annoying boy. While the stranger was of her build - slim, lithe - he wasn't too much bigger than she; a near guarantee she could knock him out easily. The concept brought a smirk to dance on her lips. "Honestly, it would be my pleasure." She snorted.

LIKE THE MOON SAYS TO THE DARK — Christ, and Michael thought he had been irritating as a teenager, all false bravado and insufferable flirting just to cover up his sexuality. Honestly, he wasn't sure who the hell he was more irritated by – the idiot yelling about trespassing and rightfully getting his shit handed to him, Georgia for getting all pissy, or Paola for acting like this was all some kind of game. Either way, as soon as the reaver found himself trudging over, he was acutely aware of the fact that he was the only high ranking person there. Which meant that he had to be responsible. Resisting the urge to groan a bit, the bobcat came up beside Paola, his small tail twitching and twisting behind him as he grumbled, "Hey. All of you. Shut the fuck up, Jesus Christ." When he could hear a dumbass yelling and the wind howling even over the cacophony of sounds within the tavern, that meant that there was very much a problem. Up until this point Michael had become rather fond of Georgia, just because she seemed to be fairly chill, and straight to the point. He would've said this had decreased his respect for her somewhat, but just hearing what came out of Calem's mouth... sky above, Michael wanted to smack him upside the head himself. It was like Trevor's absolutely horrendous flirting with everyone he came across, but it was so much worse because Calem appeared to be sincere.

The reaver sighed heavily, rubbing gently at his face with a paw for a moment, before he directed his mismatched gaze at Calem, grumbling, "If you use the term baby girl unironically one more time, I'm absolutely going to use my elementals to throw you across this island. I am not joking." Maybe it was a bit silly of him to be so protective over both Georgia and Paola, especially considering he knew very little of Paola, but compared to him? The both of them were basically just little kids, and he really didn't appreciate this guy's scummy attitude, no matter how close in age they were. Digging his claws lightly into the sand, Michael took a deep breath before continuing, making sure that his speech gave Calem a hefty flash of his vampiric fangs, "My name is Michael, and here around the Typhoon, I'm a reaver. That's a high position, in case you can't put the pieces together. You're free to join if you'd like, but if you keep flirting with someone who clearly isn't interested, I will not hesitate to toss you right back over the damn gate. You got me, Calem?" There were not many cases in life where the jeweled bobcat would put on what could easily be called a dad voice, but this was one of those few situations. Georgia and Paola may not have been his daughters, but they were members of a group that he had dedicated himself to protecting, and he didn't take kindly to anyone harassing his crewmates.

( ic opinions ofc !! welcome to the typhoon <3 ) — WE WILL NEVER BE APART

Ah, what a scumbag.

Trygve Roux knew if that tone had been directed to either of his sisters then he would've set the other's sorry ass on flames though it seemed to be some chicks that were around his age, both ears perked forward did the dark coated jaguar approach with a twitch of his whiskers only to watch with his eyes through narrowed pupils. The draconic boy would lash his spotted tail to the sides only for his heterochromatic eyes to latch onto the stranger who seemed to be joining, he couldn't help but snort hearing what Michael was beginning to say about throwing the other across the island. "Sounds like a good idea," Trygve would pipe in nudging his uncle with his shoulder that faint smirk of his slowly disappearing from his maw as he took on a more serious  expression, an eyebrow raised as he said drawing his lips back to show off his own pearly whites in a menacing manner "We have several pretty ladies here so if I hear ya speaking to them like that, I'm gonna have to personally give you a lesson on respect." The young Roux held no position of power but that wouldn't stop him from threatening the son of a bitch in front of him, most of the gals here were his family and they sure as fucking hell deserved respect.

The thought of Calem even calling his own sisters that made his blood boil and his chest would grow hot as the flames rose from his gut to his maw, a few of the said flames lapping eagerly at his parted jaw. "Choose wisely on who you decide to give the slip of the lip." Trygve spoke with a growl leaving his slightly parted jaws, the fires within him slowly fading. He finally decided to introduce himself to the tomcat in front of him with a curt nod, his gaze becoming disinterested in the other "Trygve Roux." [glow=COLOR,1,400] ━ ✧*:･ﾟ[/glow]

"He wants to join? He sure has a funny way of showing it," Paola comments idly, faking a shocked, almost scandalized tone as she squints at the newcomer with mischievous green eyes. She wonders if he realizes that maybe attacking a member of the clan isn't the best way to state his intent of becoming one of them, but who is she to judge? Maybe the Typhoon liked fighters—she wouldn't know, she didn't really pay attention to newcomer orientation. "If you do it in five seconds, I'll do all your Beta chores for a week."

It seems, however, that the newcomer is about as impenetrable as she is and twice as thick-headed; if Paola had been anybody else, perhaps she would have felt offended by the placating tone and the nicknames and the banter, but Paola is Paola. She's able to take almost anything in stride. "Baby girl? You seem to be barking up the wrong tree there, cabrón," she points out, although the smile plastered across her face spreads only wider—anybody who knows her would know it means trouble. "Protect you from her? But I thought we were all having so much fun..."

She trails off then, electricity sparking off her black pelt but contained to her general form, humming to life with energy. As the adults finally arrive to address the newcomer, she settles the sparks to a bare minimum, allowing them to roam free underneath her pelt without revealing themselves to the others around her. Paola inches closer to him as they talk—no, scold him on his language (and oh, how she wishes she could record the moment)—and she takes the time to flash Gia a wicked smile before finally piping up.

"No no, it's okay," she starts, finally settling down next to the newcomer. "We can handle ourselves, and if this little pendejo decides to do something we don't like, well—" Paola turns to Callie then, flashing him a shit-eating grin as she raises one paw and attempts to put it on his shoulder, all the while sending a very tame but still surprising shock through the point of contact. "We'll take full responsibility for it. Kids of the same feather stick together, isn't that what they say?"