DOES THE BLANK STARE-
SCARE YOU MORE THAN THE FROWN?

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[div style="background-color:#BG COLOR;width:90%; overflow: stretch;text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;color: #E0EEEE;text-transform:lowercase"] The ocean is as vast as it is dangerous, a sweeping tide could end the life of the island’s habitats if the gods would have their way. If gods were anything more than distant, maybe there would have been a touch more cruelty within the latest tsunami, a little more death- a stronger current, and instead of a few missing persons and a great many lost things it could have been a ghost of a memory in the lingering thoughts of passing immortals. The ocean is so dangerous, so dark and gruesome and wrathful.-

a force of nature.

It is a comfort on most days, and a reminder on the worst ones. Argus comes to the shoreline in the morning, a routine- a touch of predictable that they make sure everyone known in case they are needed for anything. If there are no meetings, no announcements or exiles or-

A touch of sweetness to get rid of the metal tang in their mouth from hunting the night before. Letting their paws submerge in the water to hide the shaking. Slowly their mind comes awake, a slow unfurl. careful of the sharp edges bright maroon dims with the sun's light. It's all... soft in the morning. Sitting here on the edges of the wave's touch, argus never truly went to sleep the night before- seldom does, but this retinue is part of their normalcy. Part of grounding, to help separate what happens at night to what happens during the day.

It takes maybe... thirty minutes before their mind sharpens into something usable again. When the shivers down their back is more from the water than anything else, they leave the water's edge. Shakeing off the water and moving to patrol along the coast. Here is were it varies, sometimes they will find something interesting to do. Or a newcomer to trick, or a crewmate to converse with. It's the typhoon, so it always tends to vary dramatically. Today, before they manged to take a few steps from the water they sot a pile of plywood not far from the shoreline. Driftwood or ruins from someone's old home. They pull a gnarled knot of wood farther onto the beach and set it down. Unfurling a wing to pull out a smaller blade than the large katana strapped to their back, they set it to the wood.

Slowly, the wood begins to shape.

DOES THE BLANK STARE-
SCARE YOU MORE THAN THE FROWN?

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[div style="background-color:#BG COLOR;width:90%; overflow: stretch;text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;color: #E0EEEE;text-transform:lowercase;"] It's slow going but it is rather peaceful. East to settle their attention around a single focused action as they nick the wood. No real creation in mind at the moment although it it coming into shape of something... animal. Perhaps a bear? It's easy too loose focus of reality, focused on one thing too long, in their thoughts or in simple actions like it. Enough that Caesar's approach is like a gust of cold wind, or better yet- the prickling sense to their fur whenever the chaotic officer seems too close to comfort.

Their still trapped within their own head, if it isn't detectable by not even the barest hint of hesitation as they continue what they are working on when Caesar speaks. Like cotton stretching between their ears. maybe a little bit more drowsy then they let on- then they show. Caesar's dark aura is not enough to snap the quartermaster out of it, although his words are acknowledged with a barely there flick of the ear. A pivot in his direction.

Rinto is too much of a ghost to pull their attention either. instead of the normal flick of the ear or any form of acknowledgement argus simply... doesn't. Not out of hostility but practiced ease, tormented by familiar brushes of aura's that are they have grown accustomed to ignore, else admit the voices in their head are real they can't be. Or argus really is as bad as they think they are, and there is no rest for dark things like them is there. but it is a question though is it not? They don't know what it is yet, to be honest, it was the first time attempting to do this sort of thing out of wood. Their usual material- bone has been rather lacking of late. Maybe they should stalk it up.

But the sense of eyes watching them is enough to. More than one, more than two- argus has always been aware of eyes watching them. Although these pair seem less hostile the potential for inaction to become action is enough. They blink into focus slowly, their paws hesitating for the next heartbeat as they think and carve at the same time. Words slightly echo in their ears and they move to respond

are you hurting it?

Their quiet for a moment longer, turning their attention to captainpaw for a moment before they decide their answer. "The tree this came from was living, but it's dead. It can't feel pain. Not anymore." Before they let that sink in, and let someone decipher a hidden meaning behind those words Argus speaks again, fineally letting their eyes snap from their project to rinto "I have no idea what it is yet, wood is... a tricky material to work with. Softer than bone."

They humm noncommittally. Trying to find words to answer caesar's question what they are doing- more importantly why. "It's called whittleing, which is similar to gnawing without purpose. Usualy gnawing is done to the bones of someone you knew, to tell the story of the person the bones belonged to. But whittleing is easier. To be honest, i haven't done this in a while."

"Would you like to try it out for yourself? There is some wood over there, i think i have a spare few carving tools." the last bit of their sentence is directed not at anyone in particular, an open invitation as they nod off towards a few pieces of driftwood, a pile slowly growing along the shoreline where argus collected her own piece to carve.