GANG ROBBERY — MEETING 11.16

CAPTAIN PINCHER ROUX | resides in the typhoon and is the demigod of rough seas. he is a muscular dark gray panthera hybrid with frigid glacier blue eyes, marked with scars and glowing tattoos. he is the head of the roux family and is currently single. he is known for being a charming strategist with dark secrets. be cautious around him. —— ⚓

❝ A MODERN GOD IN A TAILORED SUIT — WHO'S LIPS TASTE LIKE FORBIDDEN FRUIT ❞

He was scared. He was terrified. He was pacing back and forth in his submarine, the insides now finally fixed after his accidental burning of possessions. Luckily most of his more valuable pieces had been saved due to him locking them in a treasure chest and the hybrid was relieved that it had not been lost in the fire. But that was not what he was worried about. He was worried because of him. Had he told everyone which family he belonged to? Pincher was gently biting down on his lower lip, gnawing with a nervous fever. He did this for a few minutes longer before coming to terms that he just needed to concentrate on getting the meeting up and going despite his desire to simply hide within the dark quarters of his submarine. This was perhaps the only place he felt safe now and allowed him to mumble softly under his breathe while he thought. That asshole was here now and this would only destroy whatever past he had tried to move on from but with the recovered memory of Kaiser and Archimedes' "joining", it seemed his thoughts would never let go. Pincher sucked in a shaky breath and halted from his pacing, brilliant icicle blue gaze narrowing as he contemplated until the flash of lightning crackled the sky and thunder followed with it's booming voice. Pincher glanced out to realize it was raining quite a storm and he hoped most would be fine running to reach the meeting, if not they could simply be brought up to speed with other members.

Allowing his peaked nerves to simmer down like a dying flame, Pincher straightened himself and headed out to be met by the pouring of rain. Other territories in colder seasons would have to deal with snow while the tropical islanders would have to deal with more than usual downpour of rain. He grimaced as he walked through the soaked sand hills, his dark cinder gray tinted pelt now drenched with the rain droplets that crashed down. He briefly glanced up at the darkened sky, noticing that the sun could not be spotted through the heavy clouds. He was tempted to use his elemental powers to push them away but he knew the rainforest thrived only with rain pour and he wasn't going to exhaust himself with such a task. So he simply picked up his pace to a light jog until reaching the mouth of the cave that leads down to the aquarium dome with his blue flames low as they licked his form to dry off the wetness. As he reached the throne, he waited for the rest to come. He knew the conch would have been blown and hopefully, through the rain and thunder, it had reached the ears of the rest of the crew.

❝ THE TYPHOON — CAPTAIN — IMMORTAL — DEMIGOD — FATHER — THE HERMIT ❞

At some point, Bakugou was deeply afraid of dying. The correlation of sleep and death as being an unknown silence was too much to bear. It was the very idea that his soul would be floating within a void, an abyss of time and emotion, for all eternity that frightens the young Quartermaster. He can't stand it. He is repulsed by the unending slumber, the state of existing but having no conscience to be aware of it. The projection of his body into this world only roots and manifests the fear, lets him realise the calm calamity death brought about it. No pain, no grief, no nothing. Within the cloak of death, he realises he is a spectre whose time before and after will not matter. Who knows how much time had passed from when he had died to when he became alive again? It was the very thought that he could close his eyes and fall asleep before he could even realise it that made his relationship with sleep an uneasy one. He could wake up, sweating and horrified that he was alive, that he had let his eyes close for hours without knowing the time that had shifted. Luckily, nowadays, the thoughts don't phase him. After coming to terms with his mortality, he's come to realise his own ambitions and presence. The worst part about living wasn't the fear of death but the knowledge that he has nothing and no one to live for. Not a single soul would be grateful for him. Whether he left or stayed reaped no results.

It took him a while to notice the rising sea of pirates move towards the dome, flooding the passageway and filling the rooms in an orderly and quiet fashion. Upon entering the sheltered area, he shakes himself off at the entrance, flicking his wet paw and watching the droplets seep into the ground. He moves towards the room, glancing at the Captain who sits silently at his throne - cold as ever. Rather than being soaked by the rain, water has steamed from his increasing body temperature, the young Quartermaster taking a seat closer towards the back, pressing his body against the wall. He holds back a yawn, ears raised at the sound of sonorous thunder cracking through the sky. The weather is dreary and, while he considers moving closer to hear Pincher more clearly, he decides to stay where he is. The design of the room should allow for the feline's voice to echo. If not then he will move forward, only missing the 'welcome' portion of the meeting which he never viewed as very important to begin with. They were simply tradition and mannerisms.