It seemed the sun was beginning to set, tracing itself on the line that bordered the sea and sky, the horizon becoming a blending mixture of vibrant colors that so many artists wished to immitate. Pincher inhaled a soft cloud of nicotine into his dead lungs, enjoying the way that it briefly made him feel alive while he watched from the window of the tavern, his eyes glued to the slowly falling sun that would now be heading to another place in the world to shine on. He allowed the smoke to swirl around in his lungs longer than a normal person could take but then again he wasn't normal. Not ever since returning from the dead to come and haunt his crewmates, reminding them that he wasn't going to be killed off so easily as one may think especially for incosinderate assholes like Snowbound where he had died from an injury caused in a battle for their fucking land. Part of him was glad to be alive, that he wasn't somewhere in the bottom of the ocean decaying and being food for tiny plankton that would pick off tiny centimeters of his flesh every minute or so. But he didn't like how he had returned. How it had not been his conscious choice to wake up with lungs filled with water and surrounded by pitch black darkness. It had not been the type of hell he had expected but he supposed it was hell nontheless.

The tattooed jaguar grimaced as he realized that his glowing tattoos on his shoulders and lower hind legs were pulsing with light more than usual but he chose to ignore it, knowing that it was probably just the fucking water spirits that brought him back demanding that he should hunt for them soon. He bit down onto the end of his dying cigarette, his half-lidded piercing cold blue gaze narrowed with frustration as he tore his attention away from the window and turned to look down at the smudged writing of his paperwork on the table. He sighed, chewing softly on the cigarette before pulling it out of the edge of his lips and killing it in an ashtray beside him as he heard the laughter and talking that filled Capricorn Tavern's domain. At least the others were relaxing — he wasn't exactly doing the same thing. On his left flank was a long gash, one dripping with the neon green bioluminescent liquid that had once been his blood and hitting the floorboards but it appeared Pincher didn't care, simply glaring down at the work that was in front of him. Other crewmates glanced at his way with worry but knew not to confront the injured leader for it was clear there was a shroud of frustrated darkness hanging over his head as he slightly winced as he felt the wound open up some more. Fuck he hated that he was still able to feel pain.

( [member=1609]TEMULIN[/member] )

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