something beautiful to say // o, whittling

[ARGUS]

[align=center]

DOES THE BLANK STARE-
SCARE YOU MORE THAN THE FROWN?

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[div style="background-color:#BG COLOR;width:90%; overflow: stretch;text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;color: #E0EEEE;text-transform:lowercase"] The ocean is as vast as it is dangerous, a sweeping tide could end the life of the island’s habitats if the gods would have their way. If gods were anything more than distant, maybe there would have been a touch more cruelty within the latest tsunami, a little more death- a stronger current, and instead of a few missing persons and a great many lost things it could have been a ghost of a memory in the lingering thoughts of passing immortals. The ocean is so dangerous, so dark and gruesome and wrathful.-

a force of nature.

It is a comfort on most days, and a reminder on the worst ones. Argus comes to the shoreline in the morning, a routine- a touch of predictable that they make sure everyone known in case they are needed for anything. If there are no meetings, no announcements or exiles or-

A touch of sweetness to get rid of the metal tang in their mouth from hunting the night before. Letting their paws submerge in the water to hide the shaking. Slowly their mind comes awake, a slow unfurl. careful of the sharp edges bright maroon dims with the sun's light. It's all... soft in the morning. Sitting here on the edges of the wave's touch, argus never truly went to sleep the night before- seldom does, but this retinue is part of their normalcy. Part of grounding, to help separate what happens at night to what happens during the day.

It takes maybe... thirty minutes before their mind sharpens into something usable again. When the shivers down their back is more from the water than anything else, they leave the water's edge. Shakeing off the water and moving to patrol along the coast. Here is were it varies, sometimes they will find something interesting to do. Or a newcomer to trick, or a crewmate to converse with. It's the typhoon, so it always tends to vary dramatically. Today, before they manged to take a few steps from the water they sot a pile of plywood not far from the shoreline. Driftwood or ruins from someone's old home. They pull a gnarled knot of wood farther onto the beach and set it down. Unfurling a wing to pull out a smaller blade than the large katana strapped to their back, they set it to the wood.

Slowly, the wood begins to shape.

[W]isker

[CAESAR CIPHER.]

IT'S ALL IN YOUR HEAD !

CAESAR CIPHER. MALE. THE TYPHOON. OFFICER.

The ocean was chaotic, almost like him. Caesar didn't like water by any means, but he did enjoy how harsh the waves of the ocean could get, which would explain some of the reason why he joined The Typhoon. And why he was near the beach in the first place. "Argus?" Caesar called to the she-wolf upon noticing her and he narrowed his eyes as he neared, trying to figure out what she was doing. "The hell you doing?" He decided on asking, having never seen a person whittle before.

#psychosocial.

[ANDRAS]

rinto came up besides caesar, flicking his ear. caesar was a strange individual- seemingly violent and chaotic, and rinto was a little afraid of the male. of course, they really weren't that different when it came down to it, were they? despite rinto's cute exterior, deep down was a bloodthirsty monster who wanted to drive his pink knife into the hearts of those who wronged him.

at the thought, he lost focus until he heard the sound of a knife scraping against wood, and he tilted his head. "oh! you're carving," he spoke, answering caesar's question as he talked to argus. "what are you gonna make it?" he asked, excitedly. 

[goodsprings]

CAPTAINPAW

✯ — YOUNG LOVERS AND THEY ARE NOT SLEEPING

space

captainpaw had little to no perception on danger. that his life would end at some point, or possibly be cut short if he did not take precaution. he liked the rush of adrenaline that made his heart race and lungs gasp for air. where he could feel his pulse in his ears and to his toes. his senses weren't completely dulled, though. somewhere in the back of his mind his brain took his abandonment, and translated it into something he could understand more. things that were dark and cold were bad. he couldn't go alone there. his father was lucky he had that at least, so he stayed upon the beach until it was time to go home. the towering trees of the jungle just seemed... off putting to the young beta, even if he had no recollection of his abandonment, his experience still made his paws shake whenever he got too far from home.

today was one of those days where he was settling on the beach. rolling in the sand. battling crustaceans that he had disturbed from burrowing deeper into the ground. so far he hadn't been pinched yet, but was certainly pushing his luck.

almost naturally captainpaw is magnetized to his crewmates shuffling along the beach and he's eager to join them. he didn't know everyone here, which was a good opportunity to introduce himself.

"hello! i'm captainpaw, what's that you're doing?" he comes closer, his side brushing against rinto's in another display of perceiving no personal boundaries yet. his gaze is focused on argus' whittling technique, his mouth open slightly in awe. "are... are you hurting it? is okay to do that?"

space

✯ — male. the typhoon. easy. REF. BIO. — ✯

#psychosocial.

[ARGUS]

[align=center]

DOES THE BLANK STARE-
SCARE YOU MORE THAN THE FROWN?

---

[div style="background-color:#BG COLOR;width:90%; overflow: stretch;text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;color: #E0EEEE;text-transform:lowercase;"] It's slow going but it is rather peaceful. East to settle their attention around a single focused action as they nick the wood. No real creation in mind at the moment although it it coming into shape of something... animal. Perhaps a bear? It's easy too loose focus of reality, focused on one thing too long, in their thoughts or in simple actions like it. Enough that Caesar's approach is like a gust of cold wind, or better yet- the prickling sense to their fur whenever the chaotic officer seems too close to comfort.

Their still trapped within their own head, if it isn't detectable by not even the barest hint of hesitation as they continue what they are working on when Caesar speaks. Like cotton stretching between their ears. maybe a little bit more drowsy then they let on- then they show. Caesar's dark aura is not enough to snap the quartermaster out of it, although his words are acknowledged with a barely there flick of the ear. A pivot in his direction.

Rinto is too much of a ghost to pull their attention either. instead of the normal flick of the ear or any form of acknowledgement argus simply... doesn't. Not out of hostility but practiced ease, tormented by familiar brushes of aura's that are they have grown accustomed to ignore, else admit the voices in their head are real they can't be. Or argus really is as bad as they think they are, and there is no rest for dark things like them is there. but it is a question though is it not? They don't know what it is yet, to be honest, it was the first time attempting to do this sort of thing out of wood. Their usual material- bone has been rather lacking of late. Maybe they should stalk it up.

But the sense of eyes watching them is enough to. More than one, more than two- argus has always been aware of eyes watching them. Although these pair seem less hostile the potential for inaction to become action is enough. They blink into focus slowly, their paws hesitating for the next heartbeat as they think and carve at the same time. Words slightly echo in their ears and they move to respond

are you hurting it?

Their quiet for a moment longer, turning their attention to captainpaw for a moment before they decide their answer. "The tree this came from was living, but it's dead. It can't feel pain. Not anymore." Before they let that sink in, and let someone decipher a hidden meaning behind those words Argus speaks again, fineally letting their eyes snap from their project to rinto "I have no idea what it is yet, wood is... a tricky material to work with. Softer than bone."

They humm noncommittally. Trying to find words to answer caesar's question what they are doing- more importantly why. "It's called whittleing, which is similar to gnawing without purpose. Usualy gnawing is done to the bones of someone you knew, to tell the story of the person the bones belonged to. But whittleing is easier. To be honest, i haven't done this in a while."

"Would you like to try it out for yourself? There is some wood over there, i think i have a spare few carving tools." the last bit of their sentence is directed not at anyone in particular, an open invitation as they nod off towards a few pieces of driftwood, a pile slowly growing along the shoreline where argus collected her own piece to carve.

[W]isker

[CAESAR CIPHER.]

IT'S ALL IN YOUR HEAD !

CAESAR CIPHER. MALE. THE TYPHOON. OFFICER.

Caesar gave a snort at their response and her offer, clearly not having any of it. "So why are you whittling, then?" He asked in a skeptical tone. "Do you have somebody you actually care about or some shit?" He said that as if Argus should be ashamed of caring about their family, if they did. But that's just how he felt about his family, of course nobody else had to feel the same about theirs. He just expected them to, was all.

#psychosocial.

[VANDAL R.]

Vandal isn't quite sure why she hasn't been able to find something to do yet. Normally, she's always finding herself into messes that are unnecessary but, at the very least, amusing to do - but today feels different, somehow. Flying around the island feels too empty, feels too quiet. The boredom is binding her and, for a moment, she looks away from the island and towards the horizon beyond, the far distance filled with so much unknowns. There's a lot out there to see, she thinks, a lot out there to do -

But I have a duty here, and my duty is to keep my family and friends safe.

No matter how hard the tug of adventure beckons to her, she knows she can't leave the Typhoon, not when so many of the people she cares most about reside in it. From her siblings to her nieces and nephews, her friends to her rivals, the island below her has life that each share a kernel of her heart with them, whether they know it or not. It's her purpose to keep them all safe - fuck what she feels, she can't leave, she can't go, no matter how hard her body is telling her too.

She passes over the far coast one more time, and is surprised to see a small group forming around Argus. Vandal folds her wings and lets herself sink down, spreading them again the soften her fall when she's at a low-enough altitude to do so. Gently, she lowers herself onto the sandy shore, folding four feathered appendages tightly to her side before padding over to stand just a little behind Captainpaw, curious. When she hears that it's all about whittling - "I love whittlin'! Hope you don't mind if I join ya."