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the language of love / o, weekly task - Printable Version

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the language of love / o, weekly task - no more - 07-28-2018

it is a peculiar sensation, this double-consciousness
Rosemary had given them a rather interesting task, one which had circled their thoughts for some time now. She had been correct in her thought Aita was a sponge where knowledge was concerned, with little present for them to fill their days they had turned to learning any task they were permitted to, expanding minimal horizons. But this was one they had yet to branch into, their grasp on the basic english they currently had showing as such.

Their tail swept through the sand behind them, gaze set fixedly upon the ocean. Much of their days had come to start and end in the Barnacle Bay, not all that surprising as they had chosen one of the hammocks to act as a temporary home when the nights were clear, and it left them with a sense of calm. Yet it was missing upon this day, features touched with a frown and brow furrowed over their dark eyes, lips moving as they argued with themself in silence. They recalled all too clearly Rosemary's comment about questioning Pincher about teaching them something, his knowledge of languages extensive enough they would have their chance to learn with little trouble.

To be there with him, in a private space or even with others present, it was a thought oddly tinged with fear, a sense of worry creeping through their gut. It was not a response they cared to acknowledge and many times pushed aside, it was growing hard to ignore, however, entangled in the sense of love they held for the Captain, this fear morphing into something they thought akin to hate. A sigh broke through their lips and Aita finally rose, turning to wander through the Bay, hoping someone – even Pincher at this point – was around who might teach them.

They had asked for this and they wouldn't back down just because they were scared.

[member=66]PINCHER[/member]
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two souls, two thoughts, two unreconciled strivings



Re: the language of love / o, weekly task - goodsprings - 07-28-2018

CAPTAINPAW
✯ — YOUNG LOVERS AND THEY ARE NOT SLEEPING
space
there were too many times cap had ended up questioning planecrash on his knowledge of certain subjects. he was first interested in technology, curious as to what the spindly ginger tom was up to in his lab at all hours. why he spent so much time there. what he worked on. what they were for. then he gradually began expanding on his own interests. pirateering, the physics behind ships and what they required in manpower. what skills he would need to build up for sailing.

captainpaw could easily pour into a book for hours; the only obstacle was his reading and writing skills. even those were improving by the day though. he should be as literate as his father by the time he's a warrior at the rate they're going. having his playroom that plane had assembled for him to be surrounded by the things he loved the most, captainpaw certainly spent much of his time while home watching pirates of the carribean and looking at picture books before bed.

though, his father was also completely different than aita's.

the beta had not been very familiar with aita, surprisingly. though that did not stop him whatsoever from approaching her when catching sight of the minnow. he crossed the beach to meet her wherever her destination was, his head tilting. "you alright?"


space
✯ — male. the typhoon. easy. REF. BIO. — ✯
#psychosocial.



Re: the language of love / o, weekly task - PINCHER - 07-28-2018

CAPTAIN PINCHER ROUX | resides in the typhoon and is the demigod of rough seas. he is a muscular dark gray jaguar with frigid glacier blue eyes, marked with scars and glowing tattoos. he is the head of the roux family and is currently engaged. he is known for being a charming strategist with dark secrets. be cautious around him. —— ⚓
❝ YOU SHOULD SEE ME IN A CROWN — YOUR SILENCE IS MY FAVORITE SOUND ❞
Pincher never had much time for anything except his work as a leader of a growing civilization, his mind honed on improvement. Luckily, he had been able to learn how to balance work and family as well as socializing with other crewmates to know that their leader wasn't some rarity to see around. He wanted to prove that he was capable of being there for them even if one didn't believe he would be. He had learned his lesson in the beginning of his leadership, knowing that the only way that his crew would move forward was if he got off his ass and contributed and so that was what he did and would continue to do so until his last breath slipped out of his lips. This included family matters especially with his growing tree of relations such as the children that Aphra had given birth to and now marrying Jacob in only a few days. It would have been overwhelming to Pincher in the past but he was now prepared especially with Jacob, knowing that his fiance desired children in the future. But that wouldn't distract him from the children he had to raise now especially with the slight ghost of their mother when she desired to pop in here and there, he was all they could view as a parent figure even if he didn't believe he was the best dad for them. He would still try to be even if they didn't want him to.

Pincher was within the quarters of his submarine home, snapping at someone for not being able to control their anger. The npc crewmate had been trying to pick a fight with someone and the demigod was not in the mood for any empathy, immediatly barking out a threat that he would rip their tongue out if they continued bickering with others. The crewmate seemed to have gotten the message and had slipped away, leaving Pincher to mumble a few curse words in Romanian and taking a quick shot of whiskey from his personal stash before stepping out of his home. He sniffed, raising a pale paw to rub at his jet black nose before straightening his lean form. The Roux was going out to take a smoke break when he had noticed the small figure of Aita and Captainpaw, his icicle blue eyes locked on the two children as he headed over with his dark ears pricking. "What are you two up to, eh?" Pincher questioned with a lighter tone, a faint smirk tracing his muzzle as the dark cinder gray male went to a sitting position and waited for a response as he wondered what his daughter and Planecrash's kid were deciding to do, his attention honed on them.
❝ THE TYPHOON — CAPTAIN — IMMORTAL  — JAGUAR — FATHER — FIANCE ❞



Re: the language of love / o, weekly task - Character Graveyard. - 07-28-2018

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VANESSA CARLYSLE-ROUX
Vanessa had been busy the last few days. She'd been trying to find a place for her and Cronas to stay. It wasn't the easiest thing, as most of the houses were taken. The only option possibly was to fix up the hut on the beach. Anyways, she had been taking a break and she had noticed a few others, two she didn't recognized, but she recognized Pincher.

The beautiful black-lupine would make her way over, icy-blue eyes landing on the child before moving to Pincher, who she nodded to, before she sat down and remained silent.
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Re: the language of love / o, weekly task - CLEO R. C. - 07-28-2018

CLEO ROUX-CIPHER
Of course it was Cleo who arrived next. Of course. Though she'd never willingly admit it, she idolized both Pincher and Aita, something akin to love - strong and unwavering - overwhelming her next to every time she was in their presences. She hated the L-word however, the implications surrounding it ever successful in leaving the most bitter of tastes in her mouth. Love meant weakness and Cleo couldn't be weak. Eshe told her that time and time again, coiling tighter around her delicate throat as she did so, grip so tight that the child had to gasp for breath, not once freed from the confines of her snake's grip until the reptile was certain that she believed those words as truth. The small Roux never thought anything about her mamba's strange method of teaching her things, in fact, she believed that to be a normal thing.

Oh how mistaken she was.

Eshe was with Cleo today actually, those unfeeling eyes of hers locked upon her companion's clanmates with an anticipated lack of interest. It was Cleo who seemed slightly less stoic than usual, sanguine gaze bright as she regarded (especially) Aita. Her attention would briefly flicker to her father and Captainpaw, the slightest flick of an ear their only greeting. [color=#445544]"What are you doing, Aita?" Cleo finally inquired, idly wondering why her siblings thus far so intrigued by the beach and the sea. She was the polar opposite of them, the sand under her paws serving more as a discomfort than anything else. It was the jungles that she loved, lush and green and full to the brim with snakes... Yes, perfect.
© MADI



Re: the language of love / o, weekly task - no more - 08-02-2018

[align=center][div style="width: 230px; font-family: georgia; color: #7b8189; font-size: 10px; text-align: center;line-height: 110%; padding-top:10px; padding-bottom:10px"]i'll never get to heaven cause i don't know how
It took a few moments before the child turned dark eyes towards the approaching beta, a look one might only deem quizzical crossing their features, wondering at his purpose. A practical stranger to them it was only in passing they knew of Captainpaw, having yet to properly introduce themself to him, such was no large surprise, however, for they seemed largely uncaring of the group as a whole, focused on the few who had caught their attention. Head tilting slightly to one side Aita couldn't bite back the slight laugh which rose to their lips, short and rather sharp, eyes crinkling with amusement as the other spoke.

“What makes ya ask dat?” Genuine curiosity was present in their words, a slight smile curling about their lips. It seemed somewhat silly to the child to ask such when they had done little beyond walk, briefly forgetting the fear which had plagued them only moments prior, all too soon to wash over them once more.

The voice, it was always that voice, familiar to them for they had heard him speak many times before, had lingered about the submarine in hopes they might find the nerve to speak with him only to think better of it when his voice rose with a tone of anger, seeking the comfort of the sea. Their mouth opened but there was no sound, voice stolen from them with the mere appearance of their father, small beneath his gaze though it seemed light and jovial.

“Cleo,” the name slipped out easily, a soft warmth to it as their attention found the one in question, sigh escaping as they focused on her rather than Pincher. “I...uh was wonderin if... ah... You could teach me somefin in anata language?” Though their gaze was set upon Cleo, the gentle peace which found them when she was present was enough to ground them for a time, the question was directed at Pincher, for but a brief second their gaze rising to him.
the tyhpoon — minnow — tags