SOOTHSAYER ❝ ROAN ❞ THE TYPHOON

Despite his initial apprehension over hosting a bunch of events, Roan did have to admit that he had fun coming up with various November events for himself and Michael to host. However, he didn't want this celebration to overstay its welcome, so he knew that it was time for the feast to come. He had been nervous about this as well, mainly because the soothsayer didn't exactly know how to cook. He had never exactly been much of a chef, always perfectly content to just follow along after his mama while she was making things. Thankfully, this also meant that he knew exactly who to turn to, when it came to figuring out someone to help him with the actual making of the food. Both Goldie and Roxanne were pretty busy with their captain and quartermaster duties respectively, but they could always use a break, and that was how Roan had managed to convince them. So, as he got everyone else to worry about the food part of the feast - including Goldie, Roxie, and several different cooking proficient NPCs - the soothsayer decided to focus on the set up part of things. It was a bit difficult, considering he had to be careful to avoid snagging any of his stitches on the end of his supplies, but he could manage just fine, mostly refusing any other outside help.

By the time the sun was beginning to settle down on the horizon, Roan had finally pulled out a large wooden table with plenty of seats, covered in a simple and beautiful autumn tablecloth. The medic had gotten plates and other table setting supplies from the tavern, ignoring the occasional odd looks thrown in his direction. He was used to others being surprised by him being the one to host these events, but he found that he didn't really care all that much. He was enjoying what he was doing, and people seemed to be enjoying them as well, which was enough for him. He curled his tail around his paws after hopping up onto one of the chairs, calling out cheerfully, "Everybody, gather around for the last event of the November season!" He watched as several others began to gather around, their eyes lighting up when they saw the various foods that had already been put out. Roan had kept one larger chair empty at the head of the table, clearly reserved for Goldie. He also had open seats on either side of him, one reserved for his mama, and one maybe for Paintbrush, if the other decided to attend. Shaking out his fur a little, the zombified tabby continued, "We're gonna be having a feast for Thanksgiving! So, feel free to come and sit, and have good food. You can also tell everybody what you're thankful for, if you want, but that's not required." After all, he wouldn't be doing it. He had plenty to be thankful for, but he preferred to just keep those things to himself.

SOOTHSAYER ❝ ROAN ❞ THE TYPHOON

The first two attendees of this little gathering happened to be Torsten and Paintbrush, two males that Roan happened to know pretty well. As soon as the soothsayer saw his little brother, he came to the realization that perhaps the other would need help, spotting that the various dishes were spread out too far for the boy's still short limbs. The medic was about to get up and head over, planning on helping Torsten as he had grown used to doing, only to be preempted by the arrival of Paintbrush. Immediately, the presence of the liger caused Roan to pause, a faint bit of heat rising up in his face that he hastily shoved down. There was no reason to be flustered by the other's mere attendance, after all. It wasn't all that exciting. Paintbrush was just like any other member of the Typhoon attending the feast. It was because of this mentality that the zombified feline remained stubbornly rooted to the spot, waiting until the liger came to him.

After a short nod in Torsten's direction, Roan took a deep breath before looking towards Paintbrush. The crooked smile on the other's muzzle made the soothsayer feel slightly dizzy, particularly when paired with the nickname of sailor. He decided that he didn't like the feeling. It was too foreign, which meant that it was probably dangerous. Despite this, he still answered in an even voice, head shaking from side to side, "Thanks... although I didn't make this all myself. In fact, I didn't really... make any of it. I'm not exactly a cook, so I got my family to help me out. I set up the entire table and put everything out, though." Really, Paintbrush should've been relieved that it hadn't been Roan feeding them. He'd probably end up accidentally poisoning the whole crowd. Sighing briefly, the tom then hesitated before shrugging nonchalantly, as if he hadn't been saving one of the seats beside him for the liger, "I saved one spot for my mama, but I suppose that it's alright if you sit in the other spot." He really hoped that his efforts to sound neutral were working.