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+---- Thread: we haven't got much farther to go; open, intro (/showthread.php?tid=252)
we haven't got much farther to go; open, intro - VALENTINO - 03-21-2018
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Like the shadow-dweller he was, Valentino had slipped in like a thief in the night when he came upon the Typhoon. It wasn't like him for such a sub-par introduction in to his new home, but the circumstances surrounding the need for a new one were dismal at best; nightmarish at worse.
The male had fallen from his throne, so to speak. In one fell swoop, he had lost everything he ever held dear to him. All because of his own pride. The scarred tiger had lived in a clan-like group, second hand to the big boss man, with a beautiful wife. They'd not yet had kids, and he would forever regret that. In his own blind arrogance and ambition, he'd put his family on the back burner. Letting it simmer while he pushed up and up the ladder of power. He lusted for leadership, and that had become his downfall.
So pre-occupied in his ascension, the tiger had failed to notice his once youthful wife had been reduced to a withered husk. Cancer had taken the woman of his dreams far too young, and he couldn't honestly say he'd ever put her first in his life. It was a mystery she'd ever fallen for him in the first place, but he'd wasted that blessing.
When her pure soul finally left this earth, Tino couldn't bear to breath the same air she no longer breathed, to walk the earth no longer graced by her delicate paws. Like a coward, Valentino ran away from his home and from the irreversible crime he had committed.
Now, the male stood upon the volcanic ground, blood red eyes looking out on to the territory of what he would soon call home. Self-loathing evident in sullen eyes.
Like the shadow-dweller he was, Valentino had slipped in like a thief in the night when he came upon the Typhoon. It wasn't like him for such a sub-par introduction in to his new home, but the circumstances surrounding the need for a new one were dismal at best; nightmarish at worse.
The male had fallen from his throne, so to speak. In one fell swoop, he had lost everything he ever held dear to him. All because of his own pride. The scarred tiger had lived in a clan-like group, second hand to the big boss man, with a beautiful wife. They'd not yet had kids, and he would forever regret that. In his own blind arrogance and ambition, he'd put his family on the back burner. Letting it simmer while he pushed up and up the ladder of power. He lusted for leadership, and that had become his downfall.
So pre-occupied in his ascension, the tiger had failed to notice his once youthful wife had been reduced to a withered husk. Cancer had taken the woman of his dreams far too young, and he couldn't honestly say he'd ever put her first in his life. It was a mystery she'd ever fallen for him in the first place, but he'd wasted that blessing.
When her pure soul finally left this earth, Tino couldn't bear to breath the same air she no longer breathed, to walk the earth no longer graced by her delicate paws. Like a coward, Valentino ran away from his home and from the irreversible crime he had committed.
Now, the male stood upon the volcanic ground, blood red eyes looking out on to the territory of what he would soon call home. Self-loathing evident in sullen eyes.
Re: we haven't got much farther to go; open, intro - Verdigris - 03-21-2018
Valentino was not the only one attempting to leave his past behind. The majority of the Typhoon's denizens were outcasts, rejected by the world beyond the island that the ships had ran aground on. Georgie had explicitly admitted that she had been unable to find people that would accept her as one of them, and though Papercutter himself had not examined any location other than the Typhoon (as that was the only one who served his interests), he got the feeling that he would not fit in very well anywhere else.
The jackal traipsed back towards the ship, a bundle of some kind of yellow herb- he couldn't remember what it was called- gripped in his jaws. Hunting with a bad leg was impractical, but gathering plants from the outer rings of the rainforest required little in the way of dexterity or flexibility, while still allowing him to be useful in some way. Noticing the tiger staring off into space, however, he frowned (insomuch as he could with his mouth full).
He could've sworn he recognized a sense of self-hatred in the tiger's eyes, even though he didn't know the other creature at all.
On one hand, the tiger likely wanted to be left alone, so that he had some space to brood over whatever it is he was brooding over. On the other hand, perhaps he would appreciate a distraction from the darkness shrouding his mind. Paper tended towards the former, himself, but the latter still worked for him on occasion.
After a moment, the jackal nodded to himself, and cautiously approached the tiger. "Ha'nt seen ye," he began, only to realize that his words were muffled by the vegetation he carried in his mouth. Setting down the herbs, he repeated, "Haven't seen you around before. What's your name?" If it turned out the tiger wanted to be left alone, then he'd probably say so, and that would be that.
Re: we haven't got much farther to go; open, intro - PINCHER - 03-21-2018
[align=center]
[size=11px]❝ GOD DAMN RIGHT, YOU SHOULD BE SCARED OF ME ❞
[size=8pt]to pincher, love seemed like death's most favorite weapon on destroying the lives around him. including his. he had seen love struck widowers slip into a state of sinking reverie, like the lull of the ocean waves that dragged one closer and closer to the depths of darkness. perhaps, that was why he had decided to come back to the damned tropical island to be alongside his brother after they created the treaty to unite forces. when he had agreed, he felt no hesitation — some of his crew protested, however, were quickly silenced by the frosty unhesitating stare of pincher that was ready to kill if one dared to disobey. he could understand their wariness, they're uncertainty on working alongside a group that had so long ago, closed their doors right in front of the terrified faces of the nautical mile crew. that typhoon...it had been hell. he remembered being a tiny child when he saw the explosive rage of mother nature rip the peaceful atmosphere of the volcanic island. it roared with a blinding fury, hot white lightning strikes cracking and slicing the battleship gray turmoil-like skies. that typhoon had destroyed the love between daphne's and his' parents. he remembered briefly waving goodbye to his twin brother before being dragged away by his seething prideful father. don't ever look back...that typhoon was a message...anything can be destroyed... the rumbling voice of his only parental figure from then on whispered inside his head as he trudged out of the stranded submarine near the ships, his crystalline blue gaze fluttering upwards. he expected a storm. but luckily, the weather was becoming smoother by each passing day. soon, they would be able to relax and not worry about anything. it was a bit ironic that he lead a group named after the very thing that had separated them in the past.
now, when it came to love...his father had taken that away from him too. that damned gypsy with eyes carved out of jade...her smile. he had been young. foolish. cupid's arrow easily struck his vulnerable heart when he remembered her voice. theodosia. she had wrapped him around her paw with each moment they shared together in his old ship. he remembered her singing. her way of fighting with such brutal grace that it had taken his breath away. and she had then given him a son. his very own child. he...he remembered what his name was supposed to be. he...he had promised that he would make up his mind in deciding on a name but when it had finally come to him — it had all been too late. red. red was all that he saw with his blue eyes. and all at once, pincher had died by the weapon of love. to say that he had felt remorse for what he had done, pincher would have to deny with a heart of gold. he had never felt any string of guilt wrap around his heart when he had struck down that body in the cold winter night. nor did he care of taking the absent spot of leadership with the blood of the former captain staining his paws. pincher was no longer young. he was no longer foolish. pain was perhaps the best teacher he had ever managed to train under. and the reason why he challenged newcomers and forced them to go through the hazing of joining his crew or his brother's house. he didn't want anymore weakness. weaknesses created mistakes and he had done plenty of those to know which to avoid completely.
it seemed valentino was a hard one for pincher to truly pin point if he was any worth to his cause. yes. no. maybe so. the male did offer a powerful figure of strength, one that could certainly strike fear in any of their raids or strikes on other groups but mentally? there seemed to be a veil of past grief that enveloped the crimson gaze of the wildcat, one that pincher himself had experienced but had already ripped and torn to shreds. stretching lazily for a bit, the broad-shouldered cinnamon brown bengal stalked in a bored manner after papercutter, his figure slowly tipping side to side as if he was drunk or on one of the ships. but instead, he was on steady ground with no rocking movement from the ocean. pincher was just tired, causing his movement to be smooth and sluggish. as he reached the distance of hearing, he exclaimed "who the fuck are you? did my brother let you stroll right in? i'll cut his damn balls if he did." a look of clear irritation began to lace his facial features as he wrinkled his pale salmon colored nose in distaste. if the tiger truly was here seeking to join, then pincher hoped he could put the sad bastard through some "fun" for the newbies.
( AHHHH VALENTINOOOO, /smooches )
now, when it came to love...his father had taken that away from him too. that damned gypsy with eyes carved out of jade...her smile. he had been young. foolish. cupid's arrow easily struck his vulnerable heart when he remembered her voice. theodosia. she had wrapped him around her paw with each moment they shared together in his old ship. he remembered her singing. her way of fighting with such brutal grace that it had taken his breath away. and she had then given him a son. his very own child. he...he remembered what his name was supposed to be. he...he had promised that he would make up his mind in deciding on a name but when it had finally come to him — it had all been too late. red. red was all that he saw with his blue eyes. and all at once, pincher had died by the weapon of love. to say that he had felt remorse for what he had done, pincher would have to deny with a heart of gold. he had never felt any string of guilt wrap around his heart when he had struck down that body in the cold winter night. nor did he care of taking the absent spot of leadership with the blood of the former captain staining his paws. pincher was no longer young. he was no longer foolish. pain was perhaps the best teacher he had ever managed to train under. and the reason why he challenged newcomers and forced them to go through the hazing of joining his crew or his brother's house. he didn't want anymore weakness. weaknesses created mistakes and he had done plenty of those to know which to avoid completely.
it seemed valentino was a hard one for pincher to truly pin point if he was any worth to his cause. yes. no. maybe so. the male did offer a powerful figure of strength, one that could certainly strike fear in any of their raids or strikes on other groups but mentally? there seemed to be a veil of past grief that enveloped the crimson gaze of the wildcat, one that pincher himself had experienced but had already ripped and torn to shreds. stretching lazily for a bit, the broad-shouldered cinnamon brown bengal stalked in a bored manner after papercutter, his figure slowly tipping side to side as if he was drunk or on one of the ships. but instead, he was on steady ground with no rocking movement from the ocean. pincher was just tired, causing his movement to be smooth and sluggish. as he reached the distance of hearing, he exclaimed "who the fuck are you? did my brother let you stroll right in? i'll cut his damn balls if he did." a look of clear irritation began to lace his facial features as he wrinkled his pale salmon colored nose in distaste. if the tiger truly was here seeking to join, then pincher hoped he could put the sad bastard through some "fun" for the newbies.
( AHHHH VALENTINOOOO, /smooches )
[size=10pt][b]nautical mile captain ★ deniz "pincher" roux ★ the typhoon
Re: we haven't got much farther to go; open, intro - VALENTINO - 03-22-2018
[color=black]The tiger didn't necessarily want to be left alone to drown in his own sorrows, but he felt that it was what he deserved. He deserved worse than that for the crimes he had committed. When the jackal approached him, his words took a moment to reach Tino's fogged mind. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion for the male.
Hooded eyes shifted to focus on the male whose words finally registered after a couple heartbeats. A couple more beats and he parted thick black lips, the same lips that gripped his words with a lazy hold, "Valentino." One word. One name. No meaning. No feeling as the four syllable title left between parted white teeth.
When the bengal approached, his body was laced with fight. To Tino, the male seemed like he only cared to intimidate the tiger. It was then, with this realization, that Valentino felt something other than self-hatred fill his hollow chest. Anger slipped through his veins with fiery precision, heating him from his core as he swung his large head from Papercutter to target Pincher with blazing crimson eyes.
"I don't know who you are, but buddy - this is not a fight you want to pick." As unavoidable as his self-loathing was, his fuse was ever shorter these days. The volatile tiger hadn't traveled all this way without finding himself in more than a few tight positions. Valentino had always been a fighter, always a little more on the action side of diplomacy, but he'd grown careless.
Before his wife died, he'd been more strategic when planning his battles. Now? What reason did he have for picking and choosing fights? Now it wouldn't take much to have him crave for spilled blood.
Hooded eyes shifted to focus on the male whose words finally registered after a couple heartbeats. A couple more beats and he parted thick black lips, the same lips that gripped his words with a lazy hold, "Valentino." One word. One name. No meaning. No feeling as the four syllable title left between parted white teeth.
When the bengal approached, his body was laced with fight. To Tino, the male seemed like he only cared to intimidate the tiger. It was then, with this realization, that Valentino felt something other than self-hatred fill his hollow chest. Anger slipped through his veins with fiery precision, heating him from his core as he swung his large head from Papercutter to target Pincher with blazing crimson eyes.
"I don't know who you are, but buddy - this is not a fight you want to pick." As unavoidable as his self-loathing was, his fuse was ever shorter these days. The volatile tiger hadn't traveled all this way without finding himself in more than a few tight positions. Valentino had always been a fighter, always a little more on the action side of diplomacy, but he'd grown careless.
Before his wife died, he'd been more strategic when planning his battles. Now? What reason did he have for picking and choosing fights? Now it wouldn't take much to have him crave for spilled blood.