[div style="max-width: 360px; font-family: palatino; color: #2a4971; text-align: left; padding-top: 8px; padding-left: 10px; letter-spacing: 2px; font-size: 13px;"]Idir brí is idir muir, Tá mé i dtiúin

Three years ago, a small wooden boat touched the shores of Barracuda Bay.  A simple, unimpressive, unremarkable vessel.  Departed from a large pirate ship.  Only two passengers carried within.  A retiring pirate captain and his only daughter.  A child who had never set her paws on dry land before.  A child born on the ocean, to the rocking of the waves.

Three years.  The memories grew faint.  Difficult to grasp.  Names.  Voices.  Smells.  That first crew of her father's... Nearly gone now.  The faintest of all her memories.  The first of the new crew... Many gone.  Others vanished.  Some buried or set to sea.  Three years was a long time.

In those three years, the child born on the sea quickly earned her place.  Rose through the ranks.  Proudly.  Determined to do her best.  Even before she was a beta.  A striker.  Tiny and young and blind... And busy...  Had never made that infamous journey to Haven Island.  Had never been pushed.  Too young when she joined.

Three years certainly made her old enough (even if she didn't look it).  Three years certainly made her care enough.  Proud of her home.  Her crew.  Determined to follow their traditions.  To see it through.  Knew it wasn't required.  But had always planned to do this one day.  Three years was long enough.

So she made sure to tell her father.  So he knew.  Tried to send a tentative telepathic message to Séamus as well, though she found the connection difficult to grasp.  Had been having strange flashes but nothing concrete on his end.  As though he were preoccupied or purposely shutting her out.  A growing concern she bit back.  Would tell Kian later.  Perhaps he could reach his twin better than her.

Told Salem.  After gently prodding him in the side a few times.  Fallen asleep in the Sky Parlor again.  Reading.  Found herself caught up longer than intended.  Quiet back and forth.  Insistences she'd be fine.  She had a good understanding of the jungle juice.  She'd find her way back to the boat.  She'd be fine.  Grumbled agreements.  He'd be waiting.

Oddly frazzled.  Supposed she shouldn't have expected anything else.  Salem was a good friend.  Cared a great deal.  Let him follow her down the stairs.  Walk her to the dock after the prepared shot.  Frazzled by the taste.  Assured him Natyli would have an eye on her.  Return her in the morning.  Still frazzled on the boat. 

Let Natyli talk her ear off on the water, nearly drowned out by the waves.  The steady beat of the ocean.  Rhythmic.  Familiar.  Home.  Face fell slightly as they docked once more.  Already missed the rocking.  Paws lightly drifting over sand and grass.  Head idly shaking in bemusement as Natyli bid her good luck.  Left for home to give Keona space.  A night by herself.

. . .

She lingered on the shore.  Close, but still sitting where the sand was dry.  Simply listening to the ocean.  Breathing alongside the tide.  Steady breaths.  Slow.  Relaxed.  A part of her wondering.  Waiting.  Dreading.  Something would come.  Everyone saw something.

Prone to fidgeting, idle movement, the tiny wildcat shifted.  Grains of sand gently moving beneath her paws.  Ears perked.  Sightless hues narrowing all at once as the silence compounded.  The waves had gone mute.  No nighttime birds.  No wind.

... And then tenfold.  Straight from a memory.  Old and distant.  Guarded.  Sensation of an edge.  The sand hardened like stone as though a cliff.  A steep and deadly drop off.  With wind that whipped and froze her in place.  Deafening thunder that echoed and tore through her ears.  Frantic thought on repeat.  Not real.  Not real.  Not Logical.  The fur on her neck raising before a desperate scramble backwards, remembering the lunge of teeth aiming for her scruff.  Wouldn't let him catch her this time.

Wouldn't be so fragile.  Helpless.  Could handle herself.  Could protect herself...  And others... Right?

Felt her heart leap in her throat.  Paws beginning to slip backwards.  Off the edge.  Into... The cool embrace of the water.  Had she stumbled into the ocean?  She hadn't been so close.  Still too disoriented to catch her thoughts.  The sound continued to deafen.  Now charged with fire.  Smoke in the air.

A voice above it all.  Calling her name.  Struggling over the crash of waves.  The ocean no longer a friendly haven.  The threat of drowning all too real.  The threat of losing someone.  Everyone.  Everything.  From something she couldn't fight.

Couldn't fight a volcano.  Couldn't even predict it.  Couldn't control a tidal wave.  Couldn't stop her father from drifting out to sea.  Couldn't help or save anyone.  Couldn't even escape the water on her own.

Keona breathed in harshly, choking on smoke.  Desperately trying to grasp a hold on the water.  To forge that connection.  Cement it.  Change the current surrounding her.  Find whoever called her name.  "Salem? Da?"

Sounded more like Salem.  "Salem?"  Frazzled.  Supposed to be waiting.  He was waiting.  He's waiting.  This is a memory.  A memory.  He's waiting for you.

But the water felt real.  Sank into her very soul.  A firm, icy grip that didn't consent to release as easily as her broken memories.  Made the mistake of a sharp inhale.  A wave falling over.  Perhaps carried by her own frantic energy.  Salt on her tongue.  In her lungs.

. . .

Wet sand clung to drenched fur.  Misty grays and white.  A sleeping figure gently washed ashore.  Carrying sea salt in her fur.  In her bones.  Sea-green hues that slowly fluttered open.  Consciousness steadily returning with the warmth of the sun.  Exhaustion in every muscle...

Muscles that seemed to stretch.  A body heavier built.  Paws, pushing into the sand, felt too large.  Foreign yet somehow... Hers.  Keona lifts her head, releasing a heavy breath.  Struggling to grasp the change her body had undertaken.  Knew it was morning.  Knew the effects of the horrible liquid must have worn off in her sleep.  Knew this was real.  Whatever it was.  Whatever she was.

Terrifying.  The new height at which she found herself standing.  Legs not quite shaped or built the same as before.  Raising her up a considerable height... Especially compared to the tiny wildcat she had previously been.  Two feet tall perhaps.  Unknowingly on the small side.  For what she now was.

Shaky.  Her first steps.  Uncertainty in how to proceed.  Nearly leapt out of her skin at the sound of Natyli's voice in sudden proximity, slipping on the sand.  Hmpfing softly.  Ears flicking backwards.  A quiet complaint resting in her throat, though her words were interrupted.  The jaguar's own confused inquiry sharply assaulting her ears.

Hesitant back-and-forth.  Affirmations.  Questions.  Clarifications sought after.  A search, a need for explanation.  Description.  Identification.  Keona wanted to know.  Needed to know what she had become.  A quiet voice wondering if the change was permanent.  If it had happened before or after her encounter with the water.  An encounter that sounded more and more like she had drowned.

She could still hear.  Touch.  Feel.  Still breathe.  Keona finally shifted.  Held up her weight as she stood up.  Sought out her cool as Natyli hastily attempted to describe her the best way she could.  A wolf.  A wolf.  Okay.  Should have guessed.  For her name.  Ní Faoláin. Descendant of wolf.

Many of her family had been wolves at least once in their lives.  Whether through change or birth.  The uncertainty of type of wolf bothered her.  Natyli didn't have an answer.  Looked like a wolf.  But Keona knew.  If only for her uncle, Raziel.  She had met him as a cat like herself but... Since then he had been a dire wolf.

Keona let out a sigh.  Shaking her head as the young Roux offered her time to stay on the island.  To better adjust.  But the island would drive her mad.  She needed to put her paws to something.  Anything.  There must be work to be done or... Something.

. . .

The journey back was considerably more quiet.  Keona kept her eyes shut.  Simply listening to the ocean.  Looking for her peace before docking on the main island.  Before returning home.

Many returned from the ritual changed.  Mentally.  Emotionally.  Lessons taught.  Pain relived.  Hope and passion found.  Although Keona returned much larger than before... She felt just as small as when she had left.  Fragile as that once-child.  Hid the wariness and confusion behind a mask of calm thought.  Focus.  Frazzled but determined to act herself.

After all, she was Keona Sibéal Ní Faoláin.  Ní Faoláin.  Wolf.  If the ocean returned her to shore as a wolf... Then that's what she would be.  Permanent or temporary.  Holding some deeper meaning or not.  Who was she to argue with the ocean?

She took a breath, and stepped onto the dock.

© MADI

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Roan had never attempted the Jungle Juice ritual before, nor did he have any intention of doing so in the future. He fully respected it as a tradition that The Typhoon had done for generations, but he didn't really see the point. Others had already outright stated that he was a valued crewmate of The Typhoon same as anyone else, and had earned that title through more than just birthright. So, he didn't really have any desire to head out to Haven Island and consume the Jungle Juice that he so often brewed for others. He knew that it would probably bring him nothing but more grief, in the end. Some had claimed that they had seen their greatest desires come true, rather than their greatest fears, but... he couldn't help doubting them. It seemed like every time he saw someone return after taking the Jungle Juice, they always had a certain shadow to their gaze. Like they had seen something they had never been meant to see. That particular feeling had always lingered within the medic's mind, ever since he had been forced to patch up his mama. She had returned from her own Jungle Juice "adventure" battered and bruised, bleeding out and nearly giving him a heart attack.

He hadn't really trusted it, since then.

This meant that, naturally, when Roan heard that some of the Jungle Juice was needed for Keona, he had been put on edge. He didn't have the closest relationship in the world to his half-sister, but it was undeniable that they were connected. They were two sides of the same coin, in a way. One dedicating his life to medicine, and one dedicating her life to stealth, and social activities – as amusing as that was to think about. While Roan was antisocial by choice, and only interacted with others in certain circumstances, Keona was simply a bit shy, but went out of her way to interact with others when needed. There was a stark difference between the two of them, but that didn't make them any less siblings, and the soothsayer had always remembered that. Still... it wasn't as if he was going to prevent Keo from going. She had a right to take on the ritual if she wanted, and his job was merely to make sure that the Jungle Juice was prepared. It was because of this that he had nodded sharply in the direction of the NPC that had asked him for some, heading to the back to grab a bottle. As he did so, he couldn't help but notice the faint shaking in his paws, his jaw clenching in response.

The hours after that were... unpleasant, to say the least. Sleep had never been something that came easily to Roan, but that was especially true on the night of Keona's trial. The sound of each wave crashing against the shore made the medic's ears pull back, his heart beating unnecessarily fast. He chided himself for feeling so nervous, when so many had come back from the ritual unharmed. Still... all he could think about was his mama. Bleeding and gasping, wound up and terrified from what she had seen on Haven Island. He could remember rushing forward, young paws trembling as he was forced to patch up her wounds. It had been a traumatic experience for the young Roux, and he tried his best not to think about it. Yet, it lingered in his mind as the hours dragged on, until eventually he was able to pass into some semblance of sleep. It wasn't really restful, or even peaceful for that matter, considering the way his body jerked and twisted, face contorted with anxiety. It was still sleep, however.

By the time the morning came, Roan's anxiety had reached a peak. Yet still, he kept a neutral expression on his face, blue gaze scanning over patients as he checked on them in the morning. The moment that bandages were changed and injuries were cleared, however, he headed for the shore. He wasn't even sure what he intended to say to Keona when she got back. Perhaps a congratulations? That seemed right... if she had gotten through the ritual, that is. He hated that thought more than anything, and yet still it lingered on his mind as he stepped down, into the sand. His dark ears were perked, as if simply waiting for the moment that he would hear Natyli shouting his name, or frantic calls from others. Images of Keona in the same state as his mama flashed in his mind, forcing him to stop and close his eyes. As he did so, he muttered lowly, his tone hard, "Stop." He had been dealing with enough lately. He didn't need his mind to start making up worst case scenarios. With that, he took another deep breath inward before opening his eyes once more, and stepping onto the dock.

His usually cold azure gaze cut through the crowd that was bustling on the docks, searching around for the small form that he knew so well. Eventually, he managed to pinpoint her scent, rushing towards the tiny boat that had docked at the end of the wooden structure. When he arrived, however, he didn't find his sister. Or rather, he didn't find her in the state that he was used to. Instead, a large – well, relatively small, actually, but large to him – wolf was stepping off of the ride, bearing Keona's scent. For a moment, Roan's mind ran wild with possibilities, his gaze flicking over the canine's chest, searching for some sign of blood. Had they... eaten Keona, and now intended to attack the rest of them? It was a ridiculous possibility, but the thought of his sister shape-shifting was similarly foreign. She had never done so before to his knowledge, and he hadn't even been aware she had the ability to. Still... he found himself questioning, slightly breathless, "...Keona? Is that you?"

Roan's own experiences with shape-shifting were... strained, admittedly. He had only done so twice, and neither time had actually been voluntary. The first time had been after he dreamed about Musicbox's memories. The upsetting nightmares had twisted and torn at his birth form, turning him from a cream colored draconic siamese to a zombified blue tabby, barely held together by crisscrossing threads. He had been desperate to escape from that form in the aftermath, hating the way that it didn't make him feel like himself. Not to mention the way that it had smelled of rot, something that was especially off-putting for a medic.

The second time he had shape-shifted had been when he was kidnapped, and taken to The Iron Forged. His battle with Kliment had been a short-lived one, and he had felt rather resigned to his fate by the time they had reached the other's destination. He still wasn't willing to die, however. That desire to live had been what had pushed him to transform when his mama had hosted a raid on the enemy group, his form shifting and lengthening. He could still remember the shock he had felt as he had shifted into the eastern dragon, taking to the sky and carrying another along home, with him. When he had finally been reunited with his home, he hadn't felt quite the same strong despise for the new form as he had with the blue tabby one. Unfortunately, it still hadn't felt like him, and he had similarly been eager to shift back into his old self.

With both of those experiences in mind, Roan was fairly sure that this shift hadn't been an intentional one, either. Keona had never shown any inclination to leave her birth body, and considering how stressful the Jungle Juice ritual could be... it was natural that a new power may have manifested itself. After several seconds of just looking his sister's new form over in awe and confusion, the soothsayer finally spoke once more, wings shifting against his spine, "This is certainly... new. It's not bad, though. I have to imagine it's odd for you, though." Keona relied on her other senses for pretty much everything, and to have them all be just a bit off... it would probably be stressful. Hopefully it wouldn't take too long for her to adapt, considering he didn't want to have her checking into the temple because she had walked into a wall.

Even with the large amount of surprise occupying his mind, Roan couldn't help feeling... proud. Proud, and so, so relieved that Keona was alright. That she hadn't suffered any injuries at the hands of the demons that seemed to inhabit Haven Island. It was because of this that the siamese allowed himself to show a rare spot of emotion, his gaze softening and a soft smile pulling at his muzzle. After a moment, he stepped forward to press his side lightly against Keona's, muttering, "Congratulations, by the way... how did the ritual go?" He didn't expect her to go into detail, really. Many didn't, instead preferring to keep their experiences solely in their own minds. However, he really just wanted to make sure that she was okay, and there weren't any injuries hiding away – physical or otherwise – that he hadn't picked up on.

The jungle juice ritual was something Vayne heard of, but she wasn't sure whether or not she had to (or wanted to) take the ritual. It was scary for someone like her to be alone, someone who was used to having friends and family around and thrived around others. Not to mention, the rumors that went around about the ritual, about how most people experienced bad things. Good memories existed for trial-goers but was rare. It was just a scary thought to Vayne, she didn't like thinking about her past and definitely didn't want to be caught up with bad memories.

Powers on the other hand was something Vayne had limited experience in. She recently discovered she had telepathy - or rather, mental manipulation as someone corrected her. It meant she could do more than just reading others' minds, not like she wanted to. But she could. Shapeshifting in of itself wasn't something Vayne was familiar with, but she was familiar with possession. As soon as she and her littermates were weaned, Aphra had went back to her main body and abandoned the bengal body that carried Vayne and her sisters. So someone having a different body then what they normally had was something she was used to. That being said, the girl had no way of identifying anyone if they were possessing an alternative body.

That is, unless someone recognized them before her. And fortunately that was the case, with Salem and Roan claiming that this wolf was Keona. She looked... wildly different than the Keona she knew. Not that was much of a surprise as evident by the fact that Aphra was her mother and her bengal body was a lot different than her birth body. "You doing okay?" Vayne asked the question, her voice quiet, as she came to stand next to Roan with her eyes wide.[glow=COLOR,1,400] ━ ✧*:･ﾟ[/glow]