LA DEVOTEE — o, dead body

[Amaranth]

[align=center][div style="width: 450px;; text-align: justify"][size=8pt]The day he finally showed up, Amaranth Arbor Jones blacked out at the entrance of the Typhoon, at the railway that split the ocean - her body didn't fall, she didn't feel her legs give out, and all she felt was this burning, tingling sensation, as it all went black.

In the emptiness, she heard voices - her own, the voice of someone she didn't know, and the voices of her parents... along with one she didn't know. He cackled, his voice a sinister piercing howl of laughter, that sent shivers down her- well, she couldn't really feel her spine right now. The control over her own body was just, gone - and it felt like a long, empty eternity until she could open her eyes again.

And she gagged at the sight - before her was an NPC, on his knees, screeching horrendously - and her voice, twisted and wrong, was giggling with glee, the same as when she blanked out - was this something her father controlled? no, Roosterteeth was a lord of nightmares, not like this - something was wrong. She was looking through her own eyes but she had no control, she couldn't move at all.

But now she was caught red handed - as soon as the creature was finally put to his not-so-painless end, the not-Amaranth cocked her head unnaturally and simply said,  "Your turn." Amaranth, her breath catching, slumped as control was returned to her - and she blinked her eyes, alarmed. What the holy fuck was that?

She glanced down to the ashen corpse at her feet - they'd be soon swept up by the tide, although her clanmates would probably smell the barbecue and come running soon. This NPC, they'd said they were a member of Tanglewood, right? then it would be fine? it definitely wasn't her own clanmate, that's for sure. The tide would be high soon - anyone stupid enough to loiter here was shark bait.

"Speech,"

[ARGUS]

&& BLOOD CLEARING - NEW BEGINNINGS!

---

Argus had always assumed her voices play a part of her guilt. Her psyche so buried that it rose to scream at her through voices that were dead. That it awoke with the word 'why' dripping between honeyed fangs of her innocents. Her family, her loved, her precious and her dead. The damned that she could not save. She thought that they would linger forever within her head, that they would never leave her, as she was immortal- goldy and all powerful- whatever it was that immortals called themselves this day- dreadful, lonely, pathetic. She was immortal, yet she still had enough of a conscious to feel guilty for outliving them. For not giving them a clue of how it was- to live long enough to become a villain and forget what it was like to be mortal.

She tried not to think about it too much because her voices would latch onto the topic and whisper absolutions. They would whisper the things that she has forbid herself from thinking, reminding her of the memories that sear into every nightmare. She tried not to think of the one voice missing, the one she needed to pass blame on- her inner monster had long disappeared when she had inherently known- knew that she was worse

The point was, that she never thought another to have it. Never have another cursed at her to think it even possible. To carry the dead, the memories of the living; the only ichor she would ever need.

Blood and roasted flesh were not unlike the smoke and ash of every far away home. To her, it was a sendoff, a final f*ck you to whoever lived there, and honestly? it worked. The smell wasn't the most wonderful, burning hair and charcoal cutting through the sea-salt and sweet tropical. She followed it faithfully, a dog coming to heal. Instead, she was a beast, and the fire of destruction and death her master. No matter how fruitless she tried to deny it's claim.

She wasn't surprised by the near stranger, not the lingering tanglewood scent. When by all accounts she probably should be, it did not seem this one's nature to burn, to cackle and enjoy the other screaming while roasting. But Argus was not here to press, she was here out of curiosity, and her days of pushing relentlessly until someone snapped under pressure were over, if only for the meantime.

"Must have deserved it ti incur your wraith." The wolf spoke, WIngs pressing to her sides as she settled on the other side of the female. Staring off into the waves as it took the body away. Ash and glass coating the sand- the only evidence.

[PINCHER]

the devil's backbone

DENIZ "PINCHER" ROUX — MALE — THE TYPHOON — CAPTAIN — DOBERMAN

Pincher had never suffered such a fate that others such as Argus or Amaranth had experienced and perhaps still do. There was no mocking voice clinging to the edges of his mind, dark and holding malicious intent. Pincher was pretty sane, his mentality luckily never shattered to the point of being able to be corrupted by mocking voices that somehow controlled him. He had endured pain of being forced to become a puppet for someone else's enjoyment and reasons, specifically his father's. That bastard had forced him to become something he had never desired to be. The dreams of a naive child had been what he had desired, to be able to map out the world and go on long adventures to unknown lands and oceans. But that was a dream, not reality. Reality was cruel and brutal, unfiltered truth impacting anyone that lived and breathed on this damned floating rock in space. So instead of running off and becoming what that childhood dream he had desired for himself, Pinch had stayed put in the crew. All the disorder and chaos, the turmoil between his father and himself that lead to the point of murdering him, the son of a pirate became the Captain with only one sane voice. Had he heard anything when he had killed his father? All he remembered hearing was the splattering of blood of his father tainting his form and the roaring of adrenaline coursing through his veins. Maybe he would have been better off with a voice in his head, one that would warn him of all the foolish previous actions that had decided to come back and bite him in the ass. One that would warn him to not fall in love, to not allow himself to become weak, to not let his mind become clouded with foolish hope of living his own life that was away from everything he had been forced to grow up in. Perhaps then, Pincher would be a better version of who he was now. More intelligent, cynical, manipulative. For now, he was that but not the perfect embodiment of those traits that his father had sought inside of him so much.

The leader of the Typhoon had decided to take a step out of his submarine to enjoy a smoke, the well-built figure of the icy eyed male let out a soft yawn escape his jaws as he kicked the door shut of his home. Everything seemed to be normal as usual, some members were arguing while others joked about. He briefly caught the sight of one member preparing to pounce on a slumbering crewmate that was snoring up a storm in one of the beach hammocks. A faint ghost of a smirk traced his coffee brown muzzle as he lowered his skull to sink his teeth into the cigarette that was strapped to his front leg by a thin black band. He was tired of going about searching for his cigs so he had decided to just bring them along with him. He was about to light it when a burning scent caused his attention to snap towards the direction of where it was coming from. His vibrant oceanic blue eyes narrowed with confusion as he noticed the faint trails of smoke that floated up in the sky before disappearing. At fist Pincher guessed it was just someone lighting up a fire but wanting to make sure nothing was out of hand, the tall doberman trotted towards where Argus and Amaranth were. His long limbs easily carried him to the others, his pointed long ears pricking with surprise when he noticed the charred form of a stranger. Was that...? He blinked twice as the scarred Captain turned his head to lock his gaze onto the figure of Amaranth, azure eyes searching for an answer on her face though she looked puzzled as well to what had happened.

"Oi, Ammy, are you alright? Did this fucker do somethin' to ya?" He questioned as he halted beside the ivory figure of Argus, his light brown paws gently sinking into the wet sand as the waves lapped at his feet but he didn't pay much heed to it, simply trying to figure out what the hell had happened and why Amaranth was in the same area that held a charred form.
"SPEECH"

#psychosocial.

[Amaranth]

[align=center][div style="width: 450px;; text-align: justify"][size=8pt]Must have deserved it. Amaranth stiffened a little as she heard Argus' words, although the smell of the corpse as it swept away in the waters wasn't pretty either. Amaranth didn't seem like the kind to kill a guy - she didn't get it, why she did it. Maybe because it wasn't her. "Your turn?" what could that mean? Who the fuck was that?

It wasn't really in her blood. Or maybe it was, but she didn't think either of her parents were the kind to kill in cold blood, even if Roosterteeth was an asshole. But Aurum wasn't - her other dad showered her and Edgar in doting, loving praise. So why did she feel so cold, like everything in that moment was wrong?

Hearing Pinch behind her, her blood ran cold. Truthfully, she didn't think they did anything to her, did they? she vaguely remembered the Tanglewood member or wannabe... diving towards her. But they were dead now. She'd killed someone. She didn't mean to kill someone. What the fuck was going on?

"They... they were from Tanglewood," she mewed, although her voice was uneven - someone else had just been using it anyway, hadn't they? still feeling deathly cold, Amaranth slumped down into the shallow waters, her belly fur becoming wet as she slumped down. "I-I-I... f-fuck," she was sounding more like her brother by the minute. Spit it out, Ammy, spit it out... "I ne-never meant to... kill someone..." her voice trembled as she started to cry hollowly, staring at the charred remains still left. This wasn't her. This didn't feel like her.

"Speech,"

[KHAOL CORATIO]

KHAOL CORATIO

✯ — BOYS LIKE US DON'T SHINE SO BRIGHT

space

barbeque? that had been the first thought that had surfaced in khaol's mind when the scent had hit his nostrils in a wave. it really did smell like barbeque, the smell of over-cooked chicken perhaps? though the scent sturred something from deep in the back of khaol's head, buried behind a wall that had been places down weeks ago. no, he wouldn't think of that now, that had nothing to do with the typhoon. subconciously, his paw reached to scratch at the scar on his chest before he shook away the distant itch to find the source of the horrific and kind of disgustingly inticing scent. khaol's pace had at first been a rushed jog but was quick to slow as soon as he heard the others. while the situation wasn't exactly calm it didn't sound like anyone was in any immediate danger, actually it sounded like  the danger had been eliminated, although he couldn't be entirely sure until he saw for himself. black paws contrasted against the seemingly endless sands, his golden green hues reflecting not only the ocean but the scene before him as well.

he didn't speak as he slipped forwards at first, his eyes simply surveying the situation in a meek attempt to gain some form of understanding on what had gone down. from tanglewood? the panther's head tipped, eyes flicking towards ammy with a certain level of curiosity. perhaps he shoudl be a little more concerned, and it wasn't that he wasn't, it was just the whole... oddity of the situation. he couldn't really understand how someone who hadn't meant to kill someone, had just managed to barbeque them presumably alive. though, this was his crewmate, and therefor, he wouldn't question it, at least, not aloud. no, he'd leave that to pincher, if they even wanted to question her. they seemed to have some sort of thing against tanglewood after all. ah, shit, she was freaking out. how were you supposed to deal with someone who was freaking out? humour? ah, that probably wasn't the best idea. he was going to go with a cannibalism barbeque joke but for some reason, he doubted that'd help. "hey, hey, take some deep breaths, it's okay, you're okay," was he helping yet? "why don't you tell us what happened? ah, or, don't if that'll make it worse. just... ah... breathe? yeah, breathe." wasn't he the best at emotional support? maybe he should pick up a career in it.

space

✯ — MALE. THE TYPHOON. HARD. REF. BIO. — ✯

#psychosocial.

[ARGUS]

YOU'LL KNOW I WASN'T JOKING WHEN YOU SEE THEM TOO

---

The leader stepped up to her other side, killers drawn to the flame and tinge of death all the same. The typhoon was a crew- a family. They would always be the monster to their enemies, but to themselves? Argus knew otherwise. She did not shift- or squirm away from the leader's side, did not avoid his gaze or challenge it. This was her home now, and for once in a very long time- it honestly felt like home.

And then the other broke in riviting sobs, she was too distracted to see the crewmemeber hobble up. Her red eyes zeroed in on her family that was crying. Her wing extended, Brushing around amaranth without really touching her as she nodded along to the other. "The first is always the hardest." Argus spoke, her voice matching the others to comfort. "Listen Amar, this is a dog-eat-dog kinda world, and people will come and they will try to kill you- but you? You don't have to kill to live. You are safe here, even from yourself in need be. You don't have to kill- it is a choice entirely up to you." Argus kept her voice low, allowing the other to stutter out that she didn't mean to, and she felt something in her chest twist uncomfortably.

Didn't mean to kill, but did it anyway? It wasn't a puzzle, it was a confession. Dark eyes zeroed in on her crew member before repeating. "It is your choice, and no one else's" It sounded like control, and instantly she looked around herself. Empty beach beside those there, no one with any kind of sinister look in their eye.

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