blood in the water / joining

[BUBONICPLAGUE]

[align=center][div style="width: 600px; padding: 10px; height: auto; overflow: auto;"][div style="width: 550px; padding: 0px; line-height: 13px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9pt;"]Bubonicplague was not a man that dwelled on things. At times, perhaps, he allowed himself to be overcome with nostalgia. To think back on when he had been happy, his life going somewhere rather than remaining stagnant as it always had. He had dwelled far to much as of late on the death of his husband. His life's one love, gone; and yet they weren't. Not really. He could feel their presence around him when the nights grew long and that hate clawed at his heart. They entwined with him, comforted him, brought him love. But he dwelled. He loved Lirim, and he always would, but the demon knew it was well past time for him to move on. He would be stagnant no more.

The Typhoon had always had a sort of pull, though the thing that interested him most was their captain. One by the name of Pincher; he had quite a reputation, and reputation was something that Bubonicplague liked. This place, this new world, the demon had yet to make a name for himself here. In time, a rumbling voice in the back of his head reminded. Yes, in time. In time he would reclaim all the things taken for him. For now, he need only wait. His chance would come. Was that not the reason he had come all this way?

Business, politics, dirty work. In his prime, the demon was a businessman, and he was damn good at his job. High rank, power, control. He was made for it. It all came easy to him. His upbringing as Bubonicplague, and the legends that followed from his life long, long before he had been given that name. He was raised with an iron fist, and eventually he had inherited it. Some were born into the role, some worked for it, and then there were those who were merely handed it. Not for their strength or wisdom or courage, merely because no one else was suit for the job. Rarely was the person given the position deserving, as well. Many times had he seen it happen, and returning to the Rosebloods, it seemed it had happened again. A Lord, or Pharaoh, whatever the fuck the name was, that was not only indecisive but also seemed to think himself the fairest of them all. He had a royally high horse and a stick up his ass, topped off with a god complex. Bubonicplague wouldn't have it.

Ebony paws set slowly down upon the damp sand of the Typhoon's beach. The beast stood in relative silence for some time, ears twitching, paws shifting occasionally. Listening to the muffled conversations about the island, feeling the vague vibrations in the earth as the pirates moved about. A busy little place, much larger than the Rosebloods. This will do just fine. Bubonicplague's jaws parted to exhale a cloud of smoke, billowing into the cool sea breeze. A moment passed as he thought of whether or not to call out or simply wait for someone to come along. The latter never took very long, and he much preferred it to barking out his name and business to empty space. With a low hum, the demon lifted a paw and gave the bell a rather too-hard hit, filling the air with the annoying noise. That would be more than enough to draw attention. He just hoped he didn't have to wait long to speak to their Pincher.

[CAESAR CIPHER.]

YOU'RE ATTEMPTING TO BORE ME !

CAESAR CIPHER. MALE. THE TYPHOON. HEAD OFFICER.

Dwelling on the past was something Caesar didn't like doing. In fact, the savannah tried to distract himself from thinking about the past as much as possible. For him, it was full of regrets and what if's - something he didn't want to deal with anymore. Those things stressed him out and if things got too stressful, dream demons were prone to Corrupting. Unfortunately for Caesar, however, he was unaware that what he was doing now - repressing his emotions - would corrupt him much more faster than actually dealing with his past.

Caesar found The Typhoon to be interesting before he joined, as well. The demon had heard of the pirates from passing rogues and soon found himself joining their ranks, slowly rising up their positions. Now Caesar was the Head Officer, though he was still extremely bitter over Bakugou - somebody who joined long after him - being promoted to Quartermaster, the deputy. "Hey there pal." The feline spoke as he approached Bubonicplague, his tail tip flicking back and forth as he came to stand in front of the stranger. "Ya got a reason for being here?" Hopefully Bubonicplague knew to introduce himself but whatever, Caesar would add that question if need be.

#psychosocial.

[Grey]

Bakugou was one who lived too much in the past - the past because it was during a time everything had been ideal, bursting with an incandescent promise, brimming with a voice that spoke of glory and purpose. The idolisation of his childhood-self shaped his personality into that of a wretched one. He was aware of his...difficult personality, his antisocial nature, but still he found himself unable to do anything about it. Life became more and more about proving his worth, giving everyone an example of his entitlement of worship and praise. Now that the limelight was all gone, all he could do now was look back, expecting the memories to give him joy but only leaving him a sense of emptiness. It was a bottomless pit refusing to be filled, swarming like a universe that had yet to be born, energy ready to be ignited. Looking back through windows of time, staring at his past decisions and actions, began to be addicting. It was by habit now that small moments could burst into flames that resembled images he did not wish to remember. Even the sensation of pain could send him back years ago, striking his thoughts like a match. He didn't want to dabble with the past and yet it always came back, a boomerang he was forced to keep.

He was rather proud of The Typhoon. Despite having joined only four months ago, his ego was boosted by the fact that the pirates were feared, untouched by outsiders who dared approach with their grubby paws. Although it was the Pittians who had the idiocy to dare try and invade the lives of their members, they were still numerous in numbers, frightening to be the enemy of. It was strange to him because it seemed like outer-worldly luck for Bakugou to have even stumbled across them, the first group he had ever known had evolved from a reluctant base to a real home. He felt at least comfortable enough in his own skin to walk about and interact with others and he felt himself to be changing, becoming someone new. Then, he knows that one day that past will no longer have to be so haunting. He finds himself becoming a force to be reckoned with, an impending strength waiting to strike. The more he trained, the more he blacksmithed, the more satisfied he was beginning to feel about himself. The only question he had left to answer was when he would be satisfied enough.

When it comes to politics, the young Quartermaster viewed himself as awful at it. Although he was capable of thinking above his emotions, being quite rational when his head was put in the right space, his rage tended to eat at any reasoning. He didn't like watching others condescend him, watching others lick at his paws to gain his favour. The only ones who received respect from Bakugou were the ones who showed themselves as worthy of it. He liked to think of it as fair but no one seemed to understand his unspoken pre-requisites. He, of course, wasn't going to point it out. They were emotions that held no words in him, a foundation that he simply knew existed within him but hadn't quite allowed form. Politics bored him, stressing him out because he knew it was easier to make enemies than allies. While being rude to his crewmates was one thing, being rude to your allies was another because they weren't going to stop and make the time to understand him, not going to pause to realise it was simply the way Bakugou acted. No, they would likely go from one-hundred to zero in a matter of seconds for his vulgar words.

He hesitated a little to follow the sound of the bell because it felt more like a warning, a scream for him not to investigate because he saw the savannah disappear towards the direction of the railway roads. Still, he found himself beginning to walk, picking up his pace because he didn't want Caesar to beat him there but also keeping quiet because he wanted to avoid being snarked at by the other male. Being Quartermaster bothered Bakugou too but the male's spite of him only made him want to keep it, hold it to flaunt at his scowl. Though, admittedly, he never thought to see the day where he would be the other's superior. He'd only ever imagined the possibility that they might be equals for a moment in time. The ragdoll heard Caesar's words before he realised he had made it to the entrance, flicking an ear curiously at the fact that he had called the stranger 'pal'. There were so many things he wanted to say, to snark at the other and ask if Caesar was still sulking over the Captain's decision to promote him. To be honest, if Bakugou had been in Caesar's shoes, he would have been extremely petty over it. He decides to hold his comments for another day, another situation, maybe once the savannah brought anything up against him or maybe when he could no longer stand the wait of seeing just how furious the other was. Their current attention was to the foreigner.

[darci]

[div style="margin: 0 auto; width: 60%; text-align: justify;"]It was difficult to say for sure where the male's mind strayed most. He was in a constant loop of 'what-ifs' in his mind, sorting and organizing different realities that could have been. What if he never got into that accident? What if he won the iditarod instead of his sister? What if. What if. What if. It played on repeat. At times he got frustrated with himself for being so selfish in his thoughts, but how else could he express his anger? It was not like he could just scream at the top of his lungs out of no where and be unable to explain why. In the end, none of it mattered. This was his true reality, and nothing could change that fact. He was here and things could have been far worse than it truly was. There were times where he had to remind himself that he lucky to be as healthy as he was. He could have lost his leg, or worse, his life. While his injury was far from life-threatening, anything was possible.

Loyalty was something he always held in a high regard. He always claimed his loyalty would always lie with his family, and while that was true, things changed. His time in the Typhoon was rather brief compared to most, but he had grown rather attached to this place. They took him in, gave him a home, food, and opportunity. He felt he owed them a great deal. Having stepped down from his position in order to return home for awhile had been a topic that stirred a bit of guilt within him. Leaving this place for any amount of time made him rather uncomfortable, even if was for a good cause. How things had changed.

Despite living in the Typhoon, the whole ordeal of politics and alliances always left him a bit dumbfounded. While he could carry his own in a debate, he saw no future for himself in it. It was not his cup of tea, but it times called for it would he step up to the plate. Life was full of doing things one did not want to do. This was what it was like to be an adult. He missed being a child, ignorant and carefree. Ally or not, the canine always made sure to be kind to anyone who reciprocated the act. He disliked acting rude or hateful for no just cause.

The sound of the bell was a normal sound to him, one he welcomed with open arms. Meeting new people was always a treat for him, no matter the situation. Trying to get back into the swing of things after his absence, Victor saw this as a good opportunity for just that. Ivory paws carried the husky towards the sound, blue eyes catching the figure of Bakugou not far ahead. Soon, the others came into sight. Coming to a stop among his group mates, he examined the other, tail wagging ever so slightly. "Hello," greeted the male before flashing a smile in the stranger's direction.

[BUBONICPLAGUE]

[align=center][div style="width: 600px; padding: 10px; height: auto; overflow: auto;"][div style="width: 550px; padding: 0px; line-height: 13px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9pt;"]/ local dumbass forgets to reply to threads

The demon had always thought himself to be an antisocial creature. Such was proved time and time again, pushing others away, never really participating in any large events or finding himself drawn to the crowds that always seemed to gather. He had never been too concerned with the troubles of the petty little beings that lived on this world. Curious things mortals were, but not curious enough to pique his interest on the regular. All they did was complain and trust too much or trust too little, pick fights and start wars over small things. From his view, such things were rather amusing. Problems that could be fixed with a few words, an apology from both sides, always escalated to bloodshed. Stupid little beasts.

Loyalty and trust were things that did not come easy from a man such as Bubonicplague. He had been around long enough to know that they were not things to give away freely. Trust given to a mortal or the loyalty of a demon; it was hard to come by, harder from possibly the most stubborn demon still roaming the mortal planes. Still, it wasn't impossible. There were few that had ever managed to bond with the beast and none that still lived to this day. A part of him wanted to change that, but the chances were slim, and they always would be. He was not keen on forming trusts when he knew he would always be the last to die. He always outlived his loved ones. Always.

Ears twitched once upon hearing approaching steps, followed by a voice that grated upon his ears. A simple question asked, a simple answer he would return. "I do." Came his flat rumble, pristine white gaze turning downward to meet Caesar's. Blind eyes narrowed briefly before he lifted his head once more. He had hoped the second arrival to be the one he had been looking for; a brief moment passed, silence filling the air as the other did not speak, and Bubonicplague decided it was not Pincher. The third surely was not; the tone of voice that greeted him was light, and the demon could almost hear his smile. Not Pincher.

His lip curled lightly in annoyance. Perhaps the devil's luck had not followed him here. "My business is not with any of you, but perhaps you can help me." Bubonicplague knew he was not in a position to make demands; this place was foreign to him, and while he doubted any of the three that had come to greet him were at all powerful, it would be smart of him to tread lightly. Pincher was a businessman, he had heard such himself, but he doubted any of those skills were passed through his crew. Dull pirates that knew not what was in store for them. "I've come to speak to Pincher. Fetch him for me, will you?" The demon drawled out, exhaling another cloud of smoke. Let's get this over with, shall we?

[Grey]

[ ooc ] me too honestly

Bakugou was both quiet and loud. He too was antisocial, an awful social mess when it came to interacting with others. He was simply too aggressive, viewing others through a superior detachment, sometimes deciding that others were not his time. Arguments were simply too easy for the male to be lulled into. Whenever his pride was brought into play, he was suddenly hostile, defending it as if it were his life. It stemmed from a desire to validate his existence, his purpose. Even though his ambitions in this world had faded the same way his old life had disappeared, he wanted to at least feel worthy. Although he was rude to his crewmates, he still held an overwhelming need to protect the island. Maybe it was because he thought that in doing so, he could prove his own strength to them, prove to himself that it was okay to be alive. Bakugou presses his lips together, not reacting to the sled dog's appearance after him. Instead, his eyes watch the foreigner carefully, flicking an ear towards the creature's monotone demeanor. His brows furrow slightly. He didn't wish to speak to any of them but Pincher.

He was tempted to ask why - why it was only the Captain who the other wished to speak to. Although he didn't feel comfortable in his rank, he didn't appreciate being belittled, pushed aside just like that. Bakugou, to put it simply, wasn't happy. One could see it through the way smoke left his nostrils, a curling black rising into the atmosphere, tainting the fine appearance of the air around them. His blood was hot. "What's wrong with his second-in-command?" Bakugou asks bitterly, raising a figurative brow before huffing. Despite his annoyances, he'll do with the stranger asks but he's also not about to allow Pincher to be left alone with the male. He looks towards an NPC pirate, grumbling: "You heard him. Get the Captain."

[member=66]PINCHER[/member]