Edge of the World // Joining

[SOLVEIG]

Tl;dr: Solveig washes up on the shore of Typhoon with a nasty gash in her shoulder and still unconcious.

In. Out. A bated breath, muscles tense as they stood on the edge of a rockside cliff. The soft waves of ocean lapped at the sharp stones beneath her, like knives jutting from the seafloor, yet the clear, misty water so welcoming; glistening as if it were singing, dancing in the sunlight, beckoning her forth. It was not the first time, nor the last Solveig had found herself on such a ledge, looking out over the edge of the world, wondering what lay beyond it. The smell of salt filled her lungs as she made her way down the rocky alcove, each paw lifting and falling with a clear sense of purpose. Lift, exhale, place; lean, test the footing, continue. Each movement was carefully planned, carefully considered as her violet-eyed gaze watched the treacherous path she made her way through. She had made it many miles now, many weeks of traveling from the first little hut and hovel she had called home after leaving her past behind. It was nice, it was suitable, but she was still alone, and yet, despite everything she had been through, she wasn't quite sure if that was better or not. A lost love, a lost family, lost friends; what all was it worth if you were still alone at the end of it?

It was no such topic for consideration, nor discussion as far as Solveig was concerned; there were too many possibilities, too many memories attached to such strings to want to even think about consideration. Yet perhaps even she would not have been privy to the fate to befall her. Perhaps one might consider it to be purposeful; perhaps accidental, if one did not think any better. A slip of the paw, a pale-furred girl sent tumbling. A faint gasp left her lips, a sharp inhale of breath as if her body knew the fate to come, trying to spare herself by giving as much breath as she could. The world suddenly moved too quickly for her to process, though she could feel the sharp pain radiate through her body as her shoulder tore into a sharp sea-side rock, splitting her snow-white fur with the touches of crimson, burning with the salt of the ocean water as her body splashed beneath the surface. Her paws struggled, turning the water, but her shoulder prevented total movement, barely managing to poke her head above the surface; her headscarf, soaked straight through, dipping salty water into her eyes and stinging them so that she had to shut them to spare the damage to the irises. Her paws turned helplessly as the rapids carried her further away from land, watching helplessly with gritted teeth and a flash of determined annoyance across her face as she tried to turn herself about to the shore; any time she tried, though, the waves turned her back around, making her helpless prey to the force of nature. Eventually, she forced her breaths to slow, her paws to stop, sticking her head high out of the water as she could as she watched herself, for minutes, then hours, being carried further and further out into the sea before the island was no more than a pinprick in the distance.

Her muscles ached, exhausted from attempting to keep herself afloat, to try and bring herself back to the safety of land for so long, the gentle creams and brown tones of her face and about her head visible as her headscarf was carried away down into the sea. As the night began to fall, as did Solveig's eyes, afloat through her body's own buoyancy, bopping dangerously close to the edge of the water.  Sleep, if it could be called such, found her after those long miserable hours, through the night, awake, asleep, as the waves bobbed and carried her away. Once or twice the thoughts of surprise crossed her mind that she was still alive, that she hadn't sunk beneath the surface, her teeth chattering from the cold of the night ocean. Still, she did not know how much longer her luck would play out, nor how long she had the energy to try and fight it.

But she need not have to. A shore found her before she found it, slumped unconcious in the waves, her nose barely above water. The tide dragged her father inwards until her body lay against the shoreline, lapped by the waves that gently dampened the sand around her. She was still, miraculously, breathing, the wound of her shoulder dotted crimson at the edges for the bits of water that still lapped around it, but her shivering from the cold had long since stopped, the dawn rising behind her, not that she knew it, marking the end of one very, very long night.

//oof this is really bad sorry I haven't played her in a while xD

[align=center]Tags

[color=#BCA7BC][b]

[Verdigris]

  The scent of blood had woken Paper from his slumber.

  With a heavy sigh, he stood up and jogged outside, noting as he exited the ship that mingled with the stench of blood was the smell of a person- one that he didn't recognize. Sure enough, as he approached the shore, he could see someone new lying prone on the sand, bleeding from their shoulder. What was with injured people showing up on their shores? First it was Goldie (who wasn't a newcomer, but his point still stood), then Malana, and now this individual.

  Still, at least a cut was more intuitive to treat than a burn. Narrowing his eyes, Paper attempted to drag the stranger away from the water and set her down on dry land. If he successfully relocated her, he would then press a paw down on the shoulder wound to slow the bleeding. "Someone bring bandages, we've got another wounded over here," he barked, glancing behind him at the ship.

  /iffypost

[CAESAR CIPHER.]

IT'S ALL IN YOUR HEAD !

CAESAR CIPHER. MALE. THE TYPHOON. OFFICER.

Wherever the scent of blood was, Caesar was bound to be near it or on the scene of it. Now whether he was the cause of said bleeding was a story for another day, but usually he just ended up taking out poor prey whenever he got too pissed off. Then again, he had fire elementals now, so that shouldn't be too much of an issue anymore. But that didn't mean Caesar wouldn't snap one day and attack a Crewmate.

Like Papercutter, the scent of blood is what drew Caesar over, and the demon sighed at Papercutter's words. Great. He was always the one running off to go get shit, wasn't he? Despite the fact he didn't like nor care for doing so. "I'll find Rosemary too," Caesar huffed as he went off towards camp. Hopefully she was the one who knew a thing or two about herbs, because he certainly didn't.

[member=1130]rosemary roux[/member]

#psychosocial.

[SOLVEIG]

The first thing Solveig realized was pain. It radiated from her shoulder, sunken in like an old bruise, but oh so much worse. For one thing, it was hardly the most pleasant thing to wake to, felt before her consciousness had fully returned. Her breath drew in slowly at the muddle of voices began to chime in around her, faint, but growing louder as her eyes began to shift beneath her eyelids. People. She realized this fact at first, laying deadly still as one of them pressed to her shoulder, gritting her teeth through no more than a shift of her jaw to hinder what pain she felt there from the pressure. Good, her mind muddled through the thoughts slowly. Good.. Pressure to the wound. Wound- Wound, right. She... She fell- so where was here? Gods above, she was freezing, even despite the warmth of the sand beneath her- she was moved, the ocean sounded behind her. She exhaled slowly at the call for bandages, her breaths slowly evening out as her body relaxed. This was... as close to safety as she was presently going to get. In any case, these people seemed to be presenting no present harm to her.

"Fetch a blanket," the words came not from her lips, but from her mind itself, a telepathic message to any sensitive enough to breech the minds of, weak as it was for her own present lack of total awareness. She drew in another breath, then slowly exhaled again as her chin tilted upwards slightly against the sand, her eyelids opening to her pale violet-hued eyes, briefly flickering at the brightness of the area around her. Her mind was working, trying to piece together everything. Her shoulder was injured; she was freezing, though she might be just lucky enough to get away without too severe of hypothermia. What else, what else? "Where is this?"

[align=center]Tags

[color=#BCA7BC][b]

[ROSEMARY]

[align=center]

Though she loathed Caesar's presence, her hatred stalled just enough to allow her to listen to him about important matters. Whatever creature ended up washed up at their shores held enough problems in their paws without adding 'absent medic' to the list. Gathering a quick bundle of supplies in her satchel, the spotted wildcat trotted to the patch of land Paper dragged their visitor to, either following Caesar's instructions or the lemonhead himself if he bothered to guide her.

"Thanks, Paper," she spoke with a nod, her auxiliary gaze making eye contact with the canine while her main pair appraised the work to do. All things considered, she supposed the woman seemed in good shape. Her niece turned up with worse injuries all the time - which scared Rosemary, not that she wanted to compound another's problems with her own silly emotional reactions - so a deep slash, licked clean by the ocean, relieved her. If she needed to treat third degree burns again, she'd throw a fit.

Bristling with agitation at the telepathic words, the ocelot held herself back from smacking the smaller domestic feline out of reflex. Telepathic contact, as intimate a connection it was, only seemed suitable between those with the strongest of bonds - like her family in her coven. Not with some completely unknown stranger. It felt violating to feel another's magic touch her mind without her consent. Slamming down her mental guards against her mind, she lowly hissed, "Speak physically if you are able." By the way she spoke, that clearly wasn't a suggestion - it was an order, which seemed almost an unthinkable thing to come from the reclusive witch's tongue.

Jaw clenched, she noticed how soaked Solveig was. How annoying - she wanted a blanket, but that would simply get soaked from the cold water already on her. Raising her paw, she took her easier route of simply raising the water around Solveig to the outside temperature. Given they lived in the tropics during summertime, that seemed warm enough. "You're in the Typhoon, and I really doubt you'll want a blanket for long - we're in the middle of the tropics," she answered, still frosty about the mental words. Rosemary spoke with an air of aloofness as usual, so the increased agitation caused a subtle change and added nothing remarkable to her tone.

Dabbing her pawpad lightly in one of her tin containers, she attempted to smear a thick paste over Solveig's wound. As far as she could tell, the ocean picked the wound clean of any nasty debris and its position on the domestic feline's shoulder prevented it from getting dirtied from the beach or Paper's efforts to move her - so just applying her marigold-goldenrod ointment seemed the best. Flicking her forked tail, she started to bandage the wound, obviously too focused on her work to provide proper bedside manner.

[PINCHER]

It seemed that the waves apppeared to bring another face into the life of Pincher. Except this time, the face he would recognize was one that was not new to him, instead it was connected to a haunting time in his life that he tried so hard to avoid and push past. But for now, Pincher had been dwelling far away from where all the commotion was happening, his solitary figure laying in the garden that had once been claimed by Connor. He was staring at the pond that held the fish that Connor had named, his cool icy blue gaze locked onto their swimming. Part of him was tempted to destroy the place for it only brought him sadness but he knew that this was the only thing he could have of the young gray tabby as a memory. He throat clenched and Pincher pressed a pale caramel brown paw to his chest, the one with a faded long vertical scar that had been created due to his heart being taken. Taken and placed somewhere in the bottom of the sea to rot in the whatever sea currents dragged it around.

He wondered why and how he was still alive. How he had not bled out. But he had been questioning his immortality for weeks now since his return. Pincher was glad he had returned with the waves spitting him out like a distasteful disease but he didn't like being left in the dark. Whatever had resurrected had caused him to begin to kill in the dead of the night to push into the sea and watch the bodies sink for hidden lurking creatures to snag and sink their teeth into. Were they the reason he was alive? Possibly. But they didn't seem to eager to care for his wellbeing, they just demanded food at times when they struggled to seek their own nutrition. It was tiring and the male's vibrant electric blue eyes fluttered to close and rest, his aching lungs slowly inhaling and exhaling when he heard the call of Papercutter. This caused the male's heavy eyelids to snap open and the doberman quickly scrambled to a slouched sitting position, his ears turning towards the sounds that exploded from nearby. What the hell was happening? Did someone get hurt? Worry began to bubble within his chest as the captain rose to his feet and headed out of the garden and towards the area where the commotion was coming from.

It took him a few minutes to come, slowly following in after Rosemary when he noticed what she was carrying. Someone was hurt. His pace quickened, the soft ivory sand softly kicking and flying into the air as he halted beside Rosemary, his cool gaze locked onto her before allowing it to travel down to the stranger. His entire body became frigid, every muscle growing tense and causing Pincher's stomach to suddenly swell with nervousness. He knew who this was. Those violet eyes. It was..."S-Solveig?" The usually steady strong voice of Pincher was now faltered and small, his lips parted in a dim expression of disbelief that she was here. This world was massive, how was it out of all places was that the Typhoon's island was the location where the snowshoe had been spat onto.

[align=center]

© MADI

[CAESAR CIPHER.]

IT'S ALL IN YOUR HEAD !

CAESAR CIPHER. MALE. THE TYPHOON. OFFICER.

Caesar wasn't exactly guiding Rosemary over, since he was sure she'd be able to navigate herself, but it didn't take him long to come back over after her. The Officer decided to hang back a bit and watched, his tail flicking with interest as he heard the way Rosemary snapped at the stranger over speaking through telepathy. That's interesting. Caesar mused to himself, a small smirk forming on his maw. Now he kind of wanted to get his mind abilities back, if only to fuck with her. He wasn't aware that she had done all those other tricks on him - the snail-eating and the heartbeat thing - but he did recall the little mud prank she did on him.

Caesar was snapped out of his thoughts as he heard Pincher's voice, and the feline looked over at the Captain, confusion written clearly on his face. "You know this person?" He asked, frowning in thought.

#psychosocial.

[SOLVEIG]

Solveig never caught the girls' name- Rosemary, that was, but the sight of her and whatever useful products she had was welcoming. At least, it was welcoming. Even in Solveig's bit of daze as she came to again after her brief unconciousness, she flinched sharply at the mental connection being severed, like a sudden sting in her own head to have her powers shoved out of the girl's mind. But it was not that so much- no, she could understand a dislike of telepathy, but rather, it was the commanding tone spoken afterwards, chiding her for daring to use her power, to use her voice instead. The notion made a flicker of panic rise in her throat, though her face did not show it, aside from a faint tensing of her jaw. What was worse, her request of a blanket had been denied, rather coldly at that. Who cares if she was in the- Typhoon, was it? No tropical humidity was going to help her dry any faster, even if she was warming up. She was still a soggy pelt of fur.

"..I do not appreciate being soaked," she spoke physically, though clearly unhappy with the notion, almost grimacing as her words came out barely above a whisper, still soft and sweet as her telepathy had been, but hoarse as if her voice was not comfortable for use, as if it physically pained her to do so. She shifted slightly as Rosemary began to dig in her supplies for something, "I can tak-" she started, but hissed at the poultice applied against the wound, wisely shutting her mouth against the agitated  woman as she simply let her work and bandage her shoulder, her body more rigid now, her gaze flicking from person to person as if she were just now more starkly aware of how many eyes were on her now that words had been voiced. Gods above, why her? Why was it her that was to be washed up on an island of strangers who already seemed to hate her for no reason? Where was the Typhoon, even? Any chance she had of getting back to her old hut were now dashed, no matter how far she had gone, meaning whatever belongings and supplies she had- all material possessions, she supposed- were left to the wilds.

But silence befell the girl as stayed, half-sat up while Rosemary attended to her shoulder. She wasn't going to cross the woman again, that much was certain.

Still, Rosemary's behavior towards her had sent a chill down her spine, one not caused by her lovely dip in the ocean's salty trap. She couldn't suppose that this situation could get any worse- after all, they weren't seeming like they were going to kill her- but could it really get any better than it presently was? It seemed she was already going to be disliked. Somehow, it didn't seem fair. Ironic, even.

Yet fate could surprise her again, it seemed, for the faint sound of paws on sand that brought forth another soul made Solveig lift her head slightly to regard who else was now going to survey her. What she wasn't expecting, however, was this. Her eyes went slightly wide, blinking a few times as if she were certain it was the daze of the events, her eyes playing a trick on her as the man approached. But she could see the change slowly overtaking him, too, going tense, locking his gaze on hers as she looked up to him, and the voice. The voice saying her name and nothing more. Oh gods above. "Pincher," she dared to whisper, wise enough to not try to use her telepathy with Rosemary in the general vicinity, as uncomfortable as it still was to speak. Her gaze stuck for a moment, a million questions springing to mind, all cut short by the words of Caesar.

Solveig's gaze turned towards the man, swallowing slightly before she slowly dipped her head in answer. Yes.. Yes they did know each other, didn't they? There was another long pause as she turned back to Rosemary, then towards Pincher, carefully directing her telepathy towards him, and him alone if she could so help it. "Why are you here? What is this place?"

[align=center]Tags

[color=#BCA7BC][b]

[ROSEMARY]

[align=center]

She hesitated in her work for a second as Pincher recognized the soaked woman. With a puzzled expression, she naturally wondered if the other shared their manwhore of a father. Ever since she came to the Typhoon, it seemed she met a new relative every week - and she knew they represented only a fraction of the late captain's progeny. "Another Roux?" she asked, her tone nonchalant as though she half-expected every joiner could be a Roux - which actually drifted close to the truth. Still, she finished up her bandage work.

Ears twitching as she heard Caesar's annoying voice, she ignored him and focused more on the stranger's words - her throat certainly produced flawless speech, but the raspy-ness inclined her to think that Solveig preferred to inject her magic into everyone's mind to speak instead. Her mind provided her with a vivid and unwanted analogy to her own father and how he probably created so many damn Rouxes; she quickly banished the image by commanding herself to not think of fuzzy bunnies. Still, she felt the pressing sensation to correct Solveig; that she wanted a towel, not a blanket. Another Bitch Eating Crackers moment from Rosemary. Glancing at the yellow officer, she huffed, "Can you fetch a towel?" He liked to act the errand boy by fetching her whenever they needed a medic; she supposed he might like to continue acting as one.

[CAESAR CIPHER.]

IT'S ALL IN YOUR HEAD !

CAESAR CIPHER. MALE. THE TYPHOON. OFFICER.

So it seems they did know each other then. Caesar's tail flicked as he realized his question was ignored, despite technically being answered. However, his attention snapped back to Rosemary as she addressed him. "What makes you think I'd be willing to do that?" He asked in a rough tone, narrowing his eyes at her. "I'm not your damn puppet to control." How funny, considering Rosemary could technically order him to, even if he wasn't aware that she could.

#psychosocial.