blue monday — joining - Printable Version

Miamihorror knows exceedingly little of the sea. He's spent most of his life on the outskirts of the city, prowling through the woods, drifting across the plains. The beach is new and different and he can't tell what to think. In truth, he hardly thinks at all. The tide is high and the water runs up to his ankles; the wolf sloshes along steadily, paws pressing into the wet sand between the railroad tracks with each step. He knows exceedingly little of the Typhoon, too, but that's never stopped him. He'd joined the Ascendants because he was bored, and he's joining wherever this is for similar reasons. The former hadn't anything wrong with it, they were all just... too tame. Miamihorror isn't a pacifist — he knows damn well that there's no way he'd ever be able to live with that ideology for long. These island-dwellers he's heard are different, more violent, more like him. Then again, he doesn't intend to stay here long either. His thoughts move at the same pace as his footfalls and no further, carrying from one place to another in restless boredom.

Land has been slowly nearing and soon large gray paws come to touch dry ground, the fur still slick and soaking wet. He smells of seaspray and cigarettes — God, what he wouldn't give for a smoke right about now — and he's growing hungry. It's a feeling that rumbles somewhere deep down and itches, crawls just beneath his skin. The canine runs his tongue across his lips and then his teeth, never ceasing in his stride forth. His copper gaze flickers across the concrete slabs as he walks — there's something written across the walls, but it's just a jumble of letters. There's what looks to be an empty doorway, too, filled with odd bells and something else he cannot make out. Miami wonders vaguely what it's all supposed to mean, but he doesn't care enough to find out. The wolf is much more concerned about the lustful pit in his stomach, the need to hunt something, and wanders through the gate and into the lush jungle with jaws hung ajar and another lick of his lips.

For Marcel the Typhoon was a perfect place, warm oceans and bays to swim in and relax, lots of treasure to be had, a good huge territory for him to explore (and sadly get lost on), who could ask for more? Especially the beaches. He enjoyed wasting his time on the beach to bask in the sun and allow his sickness to go away. The more heat the better as it relaxed him and his pain from being so sick. The king cheetah could be found doing exactly just that, basking in the sun while his body lied in the more shallow part of the water, the waves gently crashing up against the lower half of his body and him getting wet from it. A few moments passed before the king cheetah got to his paws and began to make his way out of the beach and towards the gate, having a small walk to help dry off his wet pelt and help stay in shape. With his walk his pelt quickly began to dry, the sickly cheetah trying to stay more in the sun so it would dry off faster, his pelt becoming sleek and shiny under the sunlight.

The male flicked his ears at the sound of crushing undergrowth near him, the king cheetah lifting his head in alarm. He departed his jaws to take in the scents and quickly realized that this scent was not one of the Typhoon, causing the male to quickly go into hiding and watch the moving canid figure from the undergrowth, his eyes narrowed and observant. He was debating how to do this in his head; go straight out and tell him he was on their territory, or wait for backup considering he knew he wouldn't be able to take this guy on his own. After a few moments of debating, the male shot forward out of the undergrowth and briskly made his way to the trespasser. "You're on the territory of the Typhoon. Your name and business?" His voice sounded stern if not a bit scratchy due to him nearly getting over his sore throat, the male lifting his head to try and be eye level with the large wolf as he hoped that backup could come soon just in case the situation decided to escalate into a fight. Patiently, the king cheetah waited for the males reply expectantly.

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You will always be a monster, there is no turning back from it.
But what type of monster you become is entirely up to you -

coming up behind Marcellus, the dragon shadowed his smaller counterpart, watching the stranger with wary eyes and looming quietly behind the king cheetah as silent bodyguard for now while the routine questions were asked of the wolf

though his eyes are narrowed for the bold intrusion - if need be and this one turned out to be an enemy, well a singed tail was more than enough to get the point across.

TAGS • PLAYLIST • LARGE DRAGON • TYPHOON / PRIVATEER

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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 married. 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 ❞

Terrains were something that Pincher knew a little too well to be considered "normal knowledge" to some or a decent amount that a regular being should now. He had a passion for landscapes and traveling, in seeing how the world was shaped and created by disasters or blessings that Mother Nature had settled on the dirt or water that made up Earth. Despite hating that he had been dragged away from his home by his father, Pincher was glad that he was able to travel the world in various places to see and even try to map within his brain. His father had been against the dream of Pincher becoming a map maker, explaining that it was nothing really important or special about making them and so the male grew up with just holding onto the fondness of seeing places and remembering every little detail he could withold. But there was always that attraction one felt when they looked towards the horizon of the sea, that sudden inspiration to reach out and try to grip the unknown. That was why he had desired to return to the island he had been born on and also to settle a group there so they would be able to feel the same emotion when they would look at the sea and desire more. It was a natural feeling and frankly, addictive in some cases like Pincher's bottomless hunger and ambition.

The muscular form of Pincher was slowly stepping through the lush jungle that made up most of the island's territory, his paws softly sinking into the moist undergrowth, a mixture of leaves and comforting fertile volcanic dark earth. He was gently biting down on a jet black cigarette as the sleek scarred jaguar was trying to settle down his nerves and even smoke out the coughs that trembled within his chest. God, they were such a fucking pain in his ass. He didn't like the feeling of being sick and though he usually felt worse in the morning, it didn't exactly ease up as the day went by. A small cough managed to spill out of his muzzle as well as swirls of nicotine clouds before stumbling to the opening where it appeared Lucifer and Marcellus were. His gaze was briefly locked on them before at the corner of his ice blue eye, he noticed a stranger. One that smelled almost exactly like him except Pincher's scent was mixed with a deeper seasalt scent due to being trapped underwater for two days straight as a corpse. He raised a fictional eyebrow at the male trespassing but remained silent for now, waiting for an answer as his gaze locked onto him with a calculative concentration.

❝ THE TYPHOON — CAPTAIN — IMMORTAL — JAGUAR — FATHER — HUSBAND ❞