WHITE DIAMOND — JOINER

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ARCHIMEDES

[ lovely cherry blood on my tongue ]

Oh how long has it been since he felt the sea touched breeze press against his fur? He inhaled the cool air that was mixed with the colder seasons yet carried the tropical humidity that clung to the island. He shifted his weight on each pawstep he took down the submerged railroad tracks, the soft splashing of the crystalline waves causing a soft chuckle to escape his lips. [b]"My...nothing has changed...except..." Pincher. Ah, his poor foolish little nephew. He wondered how he was doing, was he taking care of himself, was he still so naive about the idea creatures could be ruled with freedom and not an iron fist? He highly doubted the squirt was around anymore but he had heard tales that he had left the gang just to create his own group in his birthplace, Paradis Island. He much preferred the other island, it was a lot more his speed and type but he wasn't one to judge. Maybe one day that little volcano would blow its top and rain hell on these idiots. A bubbly wicked laugh rumbled in his throat as the scarred figure stalked picked up his pace to arrive to the concrete gates that were carved with intricate details of the old tribe that had dwelled long before the Typhoon. He wondered if Pincher even remembered. Oh well, he wouldn't criticize since his own memory was a little foggy.

As he arrived, he glanced around and tried to take in his surroundings and timing. It was the evening time but since the island was located higher up in the hemisphere than other territories, the sun was still in it's sunset spot that caused warm shades of rose petal pink and pastel oranges as well as reflecting it on the ocean. Quite a sight for sore eyes but the bloodshot aqua blue gaze of Archie flickered only briefly to the scenery that bathed the waves and towards the large towering mountains that the island had as well as the dark puffs of smoke that still danced out of the volcano before turning to fully focus on the golden bells. He inspected his own reflection them when he noticed his obsidian black fur was rugged and out of place in some spots causing a soft swear to fly into the air while he also adjusted his old pale grey bowtie. Once he looked decent, the male flicked a large paw as the charcoal wolf heard the sound of the bells break the silence of crashing waves on the shore and he hoped they would hear him. He sucked in a small breath as Archimedes felt a little nervous but his toothy grin laced his muzzle as the scarred male went to sit on the dry ground mix of greenery and sand. He hummed to himself a little tune while waiting, wondering if anyone would come and see him. Hopefully someone lovely, maybe someone he would be able to call his own. Oh, what a dream that would be. An even better dream was being able to see his little nephew act calmly despite one of his nightmares was here for a little visit. He had heard gossip that even the Roux family had branched out...children of Deniz. Would they be excited to see their great uncle? He sure hoped so.

© LEXASPERATED

[Grey]

All Bakugou really knew was the island. In this world, he had only left the territory for raid reasons - to fight, to defend, to pass on a message. His life was contained within The Typhoon, his four months of existing within the confines of his body. The world he lives in is small and unassuming. Sometimes there are strangers who will come towards the border, seeking refuge. Other times, the ones who pass the border are the ones who intend to leave and never return. He doesn't understand what makes him stay. He wasn't born here and yet it was as if he had lived on the island his whole life, as if his very being was attached to The Typhoon. It is not to say he welcomes the company of the pirates. Like the island, he is isolated. He feels sapped of social interaction, left to be alone and watch from afar. In any conversation he is drawn to, he is brought to arguments, irritation and stress. It isn't worth it. He would rather spend his time in being useful than making enemies but it's unavoidable. He is bound to his character by fate. He can't help himself.

As of right now, it is as if he can see the sunlight's rays, the heat that causes the air to waver and rise in front of his sanguine hues. He's had calmer days as of late and his body temperature has remained a normal standard - his energy remains conserved. Bakugou's eyes drift towards the expanse of their territory. He looks at the volcano. To him it is dormant and quiet, it is resting for what can be decades. Part of him is curious if it will ever erupt, if his earth and fire elementals will be able to keep it from reaching Barracuda Bay. It is impossible for him to do it alone. He knows that he is not as strong as he would like to be. His bark can hardly pierce the ears. What should he even expect of his bite? The ragdoll presses his lips together at the sound of the bell, not a single curse word escapes his maw when he moves towards the resonating sound like a bat that has caught its prey. He teleports forward to shorten the gap, reaching the railroad and walking. There is no hurry now, bright optics fixated on the blurred creature. Details begin to sharpen, recognising there to be a dark creature. He is momentarily surprised that they are wearing a bowtie. Accessories, other than necklaces and other jewelry, are not something he expects others to wear.

The foreigner perplexes him. The canine looks comfortable where he is, as if he knew exactly what he wanted and how he would get it. His gaze briefly makes eye contact, skimming away when he notices the other's eyes to be bloodshot. He wonders if the other simply didn't sleep or simply didn't blink as often as he needed to. Bakugou chooses not to think about it too much. "Yo," the cream ragdoll calls out, "What do you want here?" He isn't really sure what answer to expect but he hopes the other isn't obnoxious. They've had too many smart-asses as of late and Bakugou doesn't feel like having another scuffle at the border. It doesn't help that he's easily vexed, infuriated by the smallest of things. He simply can't help himself.

[Keona.]

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✯ — keona sibéal ó faoláin. female. striker of the typhoon. blind. rusty spotted cat.  ref. bio.

An island.  Perhaps the reason the petite faerie loved the island so much was it suited her nature so perfectly.  Picture perfect.  For as much as she did love being part of a crew, of a family, the striker oft felt rather set apart.  By her pale eyes, by her quiet voice.  She'd prove one day she was more than this small child.  Sharpen her claws, raise her voice.

Seeing as she was making an effort to avoid certain members of her own blood, the tiny feline had wandered in the jungle's depths.  She had not ventured out much, due to the injuries sustained to her ribs upon her flight from the Pitt, but now was the time to change that.  Move again.  Little paws at work.  Her ever-attentive ears perked up at the sound of the bell, only to be followed up by Bakugou's voice.  Doesn't like you, does he?

Flicking her spotted tail, the fae trotted up towards the sound, head on a swivel as she tried to calculate the stranger's height.  Since the Quartermaster already spoke, she kept silent this time around, muscles more tense than they used to be.  A new wariness of strangers finding themselves on the line between her home and beyond.  Odds were the newcommer came to join -- he didn't smell of any other group after all -- but she braced herself for anything.

tá mé i dtiúin — ✯