that love soon might end | open, return

[rochelle]

[div style="margin: 0 auto; border: 0px; width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 11.5px; text-align: justify; line-height: 16px;"]There was a time that the stench of the sea made her sick. The constant motion, the tides grabbing and pulling her whole body, rocking her innards in long lurches. That damp, salted scent clinging to the roof of her mouth, so dry and bitter that the blood in her mouth tasted sweet. And the way it made her fur feel, the brine water- she had hated that too. It made her pelt waxy and clumped in strands, dreading and hardening in loose waves. It wasn't just the sea, though, it had been the sun and the sand, all of it. The hot earth burning her paw pads raw, the sun's embrace swelling and smothering her. The island had once been a personal hell for her, when she had not known it so well as her home. Before the flood took her, cleansed her and revived her, naming her the daughter of the sea. That was when she learned to love the smell of saline, calmed by it's strong taste.

It was the distance that made the heart fonder, in the end. When she was blind and could not see the life around her, she could still feel it, lap it up, breathe it in. But when they took her away, bound her body in chains, she could no longer go to that place. When she would rest in her cell, though so far away, she could sometimes feel the tide within her, the swaying of the ship a memory that coaxed her to sleep most nights. That was when she was dirt. A slave, crying in her slumber while the ghost of her life rocked her in her shell of a crib. Feeling like a child, crying for her mother that had damned her since the beginning. She had spent so much time in that dark place that she forgot almost everything about the Typhoon, how it looked, felt, what the day that she was kidnapped was like. Was it sunny and miserable, rainy and moody? Either way, the white hot trauma had cleared it from her head. Now, all that was left, was the pain. Torture- poking and stabbing, grinding at her bones and slicing at her thin flesh. The starvation and thirst that kept her awake in agony.

But here she stood, the sand pinching between her toes, almost like a comforting hug, though the moonlight had cooled it, made it feel powdery and wet. Instinct reasoned with her to roll in it, kick up the loose earth beneath her and shower within all of it, but she marched forward, down the shoreline to the familiar silhouette that her heart longed to see. Her sight was better than it had been, but it was an aging thing, shadows were getting softer and fuzzier through the months that passed. There was no doubt in her heart when the outline of that ship came into view, just the sharpness that struck her bones, clanging all the way up her spine. It was such a powerful rush, the happiness that came pouring out. A whine escaped her, nearly a sob, as it all came back, the big things and the small.

She had been a slave to the Pitt for a year.

There had been no trace of her when they took her, just her scent getting staler with the days. Her shack had been left where it stood, the wood beginning to rot and creak like her bones, the herbs she'd kept organized drying up in the humid air. Just swept away from that life, for a whole year of her life. But now, what would she make of her freedom? She was liberated, empowered, but still, she couldn't shake the nervousness, the fear that had been instilled into her each and every night. Always guessing when and what, would it be heavy paws on her throat that would wake her, or would they not let her sleep by stabbing her with a thin needle every time her eyes shut? That life was no longer, but the shadow of it remained behind her eyes.

All she could see now, all she could focus on was the water. The tides caught under the moon's glow, glittering in her gaze and blowing foam into her nostrils. It was a beauty, the black jewels that had been melted liquid and now spat at her ankles. An object being kicked lazily by the waves caught her focus- a lone shell of a paper lantern, now wet and torn and burnt out. Her lungs blew out immediately, the fragile sight of the paper lantern bringing tears to her eyes. She remembered it all ... the Calypso Carnival. What again had she wished for? Peace, was it ... peace and salvation for all ... had that truly been it? The tall canine swallowed thickly, letting the tears dry before she continued towards Barracuda Bay, towards home. Her body felt heavy now, she'd missed her chance to make her wish this year. This time, she thought that she might wish for ... for strength. That's what she needed now.

Fischer, that's what her name was. She wasn't slave to anyone. Not to the gods, not to her mother nor father. A worshipper, a champion for peace, the daughter of the sea.

A movement stirring in the tropical foliage nearby caught her attention. Was someone nearby? She must make her identity known now. If it was a familiar face that greeted her, she would be glad ... if not, she had to establish herself as a friend, not a foe. "Good evening ... whoever that lurks nearby." The white creature called out gently, her stride stopped, standing solidly on the ground as best she could. Though her body had changed in her death at the Pitt, it wasn't much of a better change- she was emaciated, weary and exhausted. Her wish for strength had been felled, she had to will it herself. Be strong. "I'm returning ... I was kidnapped and enslaved by the Pitt, a year ago." She swallowed now, trembling with fear and valor all at once.

"My name is Fischer. I am a Typhooner. I am home."

[VANDAL R.]

VANDAL ROUX | resides in the typhoon and is the monster of stormy waters. she is a lean black maned wolf with glowing green eyes, gills, and tongue, and leathery wings errupting from her back. she is a member of the roux family. she is known for being mischievous and charming with a taste for living her best life —— ⚓

❝ CAME UP FROM THAT LAKE OF FIRE; ONLY HAD THAT ONE DESIRE ❞

She isn't sure what draws her to the border in that specific moment. Between reorienting herself with where everything is, meeting new members that hadn't been there before, and trying to find where the fuck she built her old treehouse, she doesn't exactly have a lot of free time in her grasp, but there's a magnetic tug on her chest that pulls her back to the coastline anyway, and she decides she should follow it before she starts losing whatever fur she has left in frustration.

The steady lull of the moonlit waves is familiar; it's the same as it had always been, gurgling gently over fine sand, and she finds some comfort in that, in the fact that not everything has changed. The sea will always be the sea, the sand will alwaus be the sand, and it helps dull the hurt twisting deep in her chest. Everything else has changed, and she doesn't quite know how to deal with that.

Vandal melts into the night, and only her tell-tale green stands out amongst the inky darkness, glowing and dimming with every shaky breath. She spreads her leathery wings and takes to the air, soaring high above the rushing tide and admiring the seamlessness of land and water. It's then that she sees a pale figure, standing on the beach, looking out into the mainland.

Pretty, she thinks, the way the moon kisses her fur like that. It reminds her of another face, another name, dancing gracefully in the back of her mind, so much like—

"... Fischer." She hears the name as soon as she lowers her flight altitude. She's stunned enough that her wings stop moving altogether, and she drops the last handful of feet to the ground, just a short distance away from the Borzoi. Her steps are slow, wary, green eyes clouded in disbelief.

A rush of emotions spring from her chest, nostalgia and familiarity, affection and confusion, anger from what the other had said, where she had been,  joy from her introduction, her confirmation—and something else, something overwhelming and powerful and real slamming into her with such ferocity that she struggles to choke down. She's too scared to name it, to call it what it is, but it makes itself known anyway in the tears that trace her cheeks, carving a path down the sides of her face.

"Fischer... Fischer," Vandal calls out, voice trembling, bursting with emotion, spilling at the seams until they unravel in the air between them; so many things unsaid but audible in each breath. With one last, tentative step, the maned wolf leans forward and attempts to wrap her forelegs around the other in a hug, partly to make sure that the ivory canine in front of her is real, and partly because she's selfish, because she missed her, because she... she... she doesn't think she can say it, so she murmurs something else instead. "You're home, I can't believe you're home."

❝ THE TYPHOON — CREWMATE — IMMORTAL  — MUTATED MANED WOLF ❞

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[bubblegum]

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GOLDENLUXURY ROUX

I HEARD, I HEARD ACROSS A MOONLIT SEA
THE OLD VOICE WARNING ME

BEWARE, BEWARE THE DAUGHTER OF THE SEA
BEWARE, BEWARE OF ME.

information — plotting

Many had come and gone in her life and, by now, she's surely convinced herself that it is simply just a part of it all. That not everyone will stay, and she certainly would not ever attempt to force them to. There would be times she may unconsciously blame herself: had she caused them to go away? With the time they had gone, sometimes she would be relieved. They could not be hurt by her secrets if they went away. They were safe from that wolf who had destroyed her back a year ago. Many of them went in large spurts, it had seemed. It started with one or two, and then suddenly a large group she had come to love went away - many without warning. For almost a year now, the girl had been quite used to the lost relationships and family members disappearing with the waves, no words left behind as to how or why. All she could do, as she always had, was simply continue. Maybe they would be back one day. Maybe they could come back to see her how she is now - angry and proud and working as the greatest captain, comparable to her papa. No more, no less. Maybe they could see her and be happy with what she has done with their home and herself and she can bring them prosperity if they were to ever reveal their faces ever again, just as she has always wanted to. All she wishes is that they are happy, wherever they are, and safe, too.

At the very least, in cases such as Vandal and Fischer, she could feel relieved. They'd gotten to miss the pain, the same, the mistake she'd endured. They didn't have to see the kid they cared so much about breakdown, allow herself to be stolen away by a liar and manipulator, become the pet of their enemy's leader, have her memories locked away, her young mind believe that she was meant to die, but they killed her mama instead, that she deserved to be a slave for committing a crime she could not remember. They didn't have to see her become trapped in a fallen tree house, burning alive in defiance atop this island they call home. Instead, they got to see the fearful, hurt little girl turn into the strong, angry captain she presents herself as today. Goldenluxury Roux is still very much there - she still adores her family more than anything, grows paranoid when left away from others too long, fights for her crewmates (harder and stronger than she ever has before), and still works herself to death. She can remember her life now. She can walk now. Her body carries her around with ease, the memories of her split spine, her burnt and scarred body, all just memories. Her name still travels, more so than it ever has before, and she is undeniably recognizable as the carrier of it. The stories of the original captain's daughter, the slave that'd defied her master and the very concept of the slaveholders in general, the proud captain that took no shit, traveled across their lands and it makes for many individuals she'd never met before to know exactly who she is on sight.

To say the least, such things have instilled a bit of...something in the girl. Maybe an expectation, for others to know who she is instantly. She knows better now, though, than to simply charge up to an old friend just because she believes they will be able to recognize her right away. Her aunt's returned has taught her that small lesson. Though, it had made for a funny interaction nonetheless. And, to be entirely fair, she would not instantaneously recognize this returning member. While the body is still striking, it is not necessarily in the same ways. The girl would need to hear those words to know just who it was. And, when she was hit with the statements the female presented, the captain would find her paws nearly running.

She had originally been drawn by the simple greeting, her head turning towards the sound, so clearly nearby their gate. The female's harpy eagle sat upon her winged back as she gently carried her muscled legs towards the sound, however her pace quickened by the next pair of words, causing Lynn to shift slightly, letting out a small chirp. Fuck! The tigress' icy eyes fill with a bitter coldness to them, though only for a split second, as they warm up as she grows closer, staying behind her aunt's embrace of the female. She looks the female over silently, her mouth partially parted. "Do you - Do you need any medical assistance?" her voice is strong, though faltering. Certainly not as sharp as it would normally sound. The captain stares at the female, her strongest expression representing concern. It's almost distant - her outward reaction. It holds a different tone than she'd had with her aunt. She does not step closer, nor even smile. "I - I can fix up your home. Or, I can make a bed for ya in the submarine." There seems to be a desperation at the edge of each word. She wants to help. She wants to know what happened to the female. What she feels. "You're free n' safe, wit' the pirates once more."

Now, comes the smile, very slowly and still filled with worry, but just as warm as one she would have held as a child. "Wit' capt'n Goldenluxury Roux, who's so glad t' see you."

[starlightbrigade.]

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Starlight does not have the history with these three that they have with each other. Far from it, in fact. He has no history of his own, not with the Typhoon as a whole, nor with Fischer, or the other two gave run to meet her. This is why he hesitates before slowly moving over to the group, not wanting to interrupt some tender meeting between family that he is not a part of. Still, he should know any new – or in this case, old – members that show up to the border, and the wandering feline supposes that this is a good opportunity to learn more about the group he has now come to reside in. If he could not remember his own history yet, he could, at the very least, learn about what was here before he showed up, dim eyed and searching out for his past. Goldenluxury had already offered to help him with the fact that he couldn't remember anything, but perhaps the other two here could also introduce a new sense of connection to The Typhoon that he didn't have yet.

The starry pelted male approached more slowly, standing a bit back and to the side of Goldie, not wanting to call more attention to himself than the bare minimum to introduce himself. He dipped his head respectfully to Fischer, the waves of glittering light on his lower back and tail standing out against the dark and colorful sky that they were standing under, "Hello, Miss Fischer... my name is Starlightbrigade... welcome home." He lifted his head after his introduction, his grey bordering on white lightly glowing eyes taking her on slowly. She would need assistance, he was sure of it. Her fur was unkempt, her eyes tired, and her fur seeming to cling just a tad too close to her ribs. Goldie had already offered help for many of these things, but he did notice that she hadn't attempted yet to rectify the last of the issues, "I'm sure you're exhausted... would you like me to fetch you some food? I cannot imagine you were being fed well while being kept prisoner."

[b]TAGS • STARLIGHTBRIGADE OF THE TYPHOON

© LEXASPERATED

[rochelle]

[div style="margin: 0 auto; border: 0px; width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 11.5px; text-align: justify; line-height: 16px;"]The sight that she was met with should have scared her. The scales and the leathery black wings, the large mass flinging itself towards her. But she didn't recoil from the embrace, never flinching as she pressed against the heap of fur. Vandal. That mischievous black beauty, spreading her wings throughout the sky, carrying a breeze of gunpowder and rum in her wake. The smell of her good friend was something she had never forgotten, even when she'd thought she lost all of it. She figured it was because Vandal carried the scent of the island with her, and all the things Fischer liked the most. When she was laying out on the hard floor in the dark, bleeding out, that sweet smell would come over her and suddenly pull her pained thoughts to home and fill her with strength. The small things like that had given her the grit to will a smile in the face of her enslaver.

"I ... wha ... Vandal, I cannot believe that you are home." The words were choked, but they came spilling out fast. That wisened and calm demeanor she had trained so well came down quickly when she was in the presence of that familiar face. Her entire body was trembling for a moment, eyes wet and glazed, stare shuddering when she gazed back into Vandal's. To look upon Vandal's face again ... to touch her, to know that she was tangible and real took Fischer's breath away. Her perseverance hadn't been in vain ... the gods had given her the strength to survive, and Vandal, her being here must be a gift directly from Nereides herself. "It has been so long ... I did not know if you would still be here ..." The Borzoi gasped, shaking her head wistfully. That was true, she had feared that when she came back everything would have been different, that she would be home, but amongst strangers. But as it turned out, she had been wrong ...

Dead wrong. Swallowing thickly and pursing her lips, she timidly looked over to the tigress that stood in front of her. There was something that was familiar about her. In her eyes ... the fierceness and determination of a youthful soul that Fischer had known once before. She dipped her head to her, gracious of her offers. "Aye, I am ... fine. Thank you, I am so grateful for your offer." Though her wounds had healed for the most part, there was still damage unseen she wouldn't confess to. It was going to take a while to get through the darkness that had settled because of the past year, and it made no sense to make someone fret over it when they couldn't help. Or, that's at least what she naively believed. For a moment she hugged Vandal a little bit tighter, but lost her grip when the tigress spoke again. "Captain ..." She breathed out, pulling away from the maned wolf to gaze into the eyes of Goldenluxury.

For a moment, she couldn't help but think of Pincher. He was gone now, wasn't he? Or at least, he was no longer Captain. Something had changed, out of her control, time had passed when she couldn't even recognize it. Confusion and grief fogged up her eyes, smiling painfully. A long time ago now, he had saved her life, she liked to think. When she showed up at the gate, dehydrated and wounded, he had picked her frail body up and brought her in. And then, she had served as a crew-member and Soothsayer to him, a loyal piece of the Typhoon. Those days were over ... his kin now stood before her, as strong and ambitious as any Captain should be. "... and ... and I am so glad to see you, my Captain." Fischer felt herself buzzing, beaming at Goldie. Oh, how big she had gotten. So powerful too. She had needed to live through so much to get to this point, no longer was she the girl with her spine flayed open and bleeding out while Fischer had tried to heal her. The girl was no longer. Only the woman remained.

Her wise gaze fell on Starlightbrigade, who she gave a fond look to. There was a new face. As refreshing as it was to see old friends in Vandal and Goldenluxury, the stranger was a welcomed sight for the canine. "Starlightbrigade, thank you, you are so generous ... some food would be perfect." Fischer murmured warmly, meeting his gaze when she spoke to him. And then this impish look crossed her face, an expression that was almost unnatural for the mature creature. "And, well ... some rum wouldn't hurt, I would be grateful." She thought Vandal might like the sound of that. A sheepish, guilty look crossed her, but when she looked back to the Captain, a soberness took hold of her spirit, a gentle fall of her lips into a frown.

"You kept me alive, Captain ..." Fischer was nearly whispering, eyes beginning to shed tears. "Whenever those Pittians spoke your name with ... with such malice ... an-and fear, it gave me the strength to come home." Her face was stoic when she spoke, expression hardened but her words trembling and impactful. Without the reminder that the Typhoon lived on in Goldenluxury's company, Fischer wasn't sure if she would have made it. Her enslaver had broken her down, beaten all that she loved out of her. But they never got that secret piece of her, they never knew that the rebellion was burning deep within all along.

[VANDAL R.]

❝ MAKING MY OWN ROAD OUT OF GRAVEL AND SOME WINE; IF I HAVE TO FALL THEN IT WON'T BE IN YOUR LINE—I'M A BLACK SHEEP ❞

---

"I thought I'd lost you," the fiend manages to choke out, face still pressed into the side of the Borzoi's neck. Each tremble of Fischer's body is matched only by her own, shivering as she attempts to swallow down the reality of their situation—Fischer is alive, here, home, and Vandal can feel something press sharply into her chest, something foreign but entirely welcome. She thinks, somewhere in the back of each hopeful breath, that maybe it's fate that has brought them back at the same time. "I came back," she adds in a whisper; would her words be taken away by the winds of the sea? "I'll always come back."

When Goldie approaches, she listens, half-forgetting that she's still somewhat tangled around the returning Crewmate; she's hyperaware when Fischer tightens her grasp around her, and then she yields when the Borzoi lets go altogether. Vandal stays close, however, sitting by the pale queen's side and smiling gently at the conversation bubbling around her. She can't seem to help the expression, the way the edges of her mouth pull back and up as if there was a separate force controlling them, but she accepts it, lets it happen. She keeps smiling, glancing every so often back at Fischer with a tender look in her eyes that she doesn't even realize is there.

The maned wolf's gaze flickers to the starry-pelted feline, humming thoughtfully at the offer of food for her friend. Vandal's more surprised, however, when Fischer adds a request for rum, and it causes the fiend to let out a short, mirthful burst of laughter. "Absolutely," she comments, "Rum could never hurt anybody... unless you hit someone in the head with the bottle."

With her unhelpful but humorous comment already spoken, the creature quiets herself again, listening thoughtfully as Fischer explains Goldie's impact on her continued survival. Something bitter surges up in the back of her throat at the sight of the other's tears, thick and hot and angry, but she keeps her teeth pressed together despite the flashing crimson seeping into the edges of her vision. "The little pests," she manages to grumble, sounding petulant but hiding something darker between each syllable, sticking between sharp teeth and leaving an unsavory taste in her mouth. Vandal shakes her head and wills the rage away; it won't help, she tells herself, and she doesn't want to dwell on the negativity.

Instead, the fiend perks her ears up and speaks with a lighter tone, letting herself shift back into something easy, less wound-up. "Is this a mini-reunion? This sounds like a mini-reunion," she says with a playful tone, casting the three gathered Typhooners a mischievous smirk before tapping her talons on the sand and conjuring a rather colorful party hat underneath. Without hesitation, she takes the accessory and places it on top of her head, pulling at the elastic and snapping it back under her jaw to keep the hat steady. "What do you guys say? We can have a little luau on the beach, drink all the alcohol, eat until we're stuffed, old crewmates meet new crewmates, that sort of thing."

[starlightbrigade.]

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Starlight blinked with a faint amount of surprise at how warmly Fischer addressed him, and he felt a small smile come to his face as he dipped his head to the older member. Flicking his starry wave dripping tail, the young feline turned and darted off towards the ship in the distance, his pelt glinting in the moonlight as he ran along. It took several moments of searching before he found everything that he was looking for, including some food for Fischer, a bottle of rum, and a basket to carry it all in. The rum had taken the most searching, since he had never been a drinker – at least not now, he might've been in the past? He isn't sure – and wasn't exactly aware of where any of the bottles of the alcohol could be found. But eventually he had managed to get his paws on one, hefting it into the basket alongside a pretty large amount of prey, just in case.

He returned to the small group with the basket clenched in his jaws, trying his best not to let it trip his paws up as he moved along. He arrived just in time to hear Vandal suggesting that they have a little party on the beach. Gently placing the basket down in front of the small group of older group members, he meowed softly with a flick of his ear, his already faintly glowing eyes seeming to light up a bit at the prospect of spending some time with the others, "A little luau? That sounds very enjoyable, miss Vandal." He was beginning to get used to the familiar faces around here already, but the thought of actually spending quality time with them and getting to know them seemed... sort of exciting. It sort of occured to him that his very formal tone might make it seem like he wasn't that enthralled by the idea, but he tried to set that off by smiling a bit.

[b]TAGS • STARLIGHTBRIGADE OF THE TYPHOON

© LEXASPERATED