WORLD IS STIRRING SICKLY / meeting

[bubblegum]

[Keona.]

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If I fall, get knocked down, pick myself up off the ground

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

Somber.  The horn blows but it feels heavy.  Early.  Too soon.  But that's how it had always been, hasn't it?  Keona could not recall a time their captain hadn't been one to push herself like this.  To work.  Work.  Work.  The way she coped.  Even before... The tiny dealer could remember when they'd be much younger.  It was all she knew how to keep on.

While the petite fae had words.  Concerns.  She did not press them.  She did not know the gravity of it all.  She had never felt the pain.  So she'd offer her presence.  Even if she could tell that the captain was not entirely with them.  Keona sat close below, her own pale hues distant in thought.

. . .

Not far behind the dealer, the young chimera padded into the sea dome.  Hesitant.  She too felt the heaviness, the grief, and lingered away.  Part of her wanted to run the opposite direction.  Her chest felt tight.  It was hard to be the smiling one.  A comforting one.  When the air itself felt wrong.  When it was family.

So she sat.  Eyes dark, lingering up but never resting in one place.

✯ — natyli roux. female. beta of the typhoon. draconic jaguar.  bio.

COME AND FLY AW[color=#6897be]AY WI[color=#628ab9]TH ME

[michael t.]

The sound of the horn ringing out was... surprising. Michael had figured that they wouldn't be having a meeting anytime soon, thinking that Goldie would need far more time in order to settle her spirits, and grieve. Despite this, it wasn't exactly the most surprising thing in the world. Even though he wasn't as close to Goldie as some, the thief had certainly picked up on the fact that Goldie threw herself into her work, the tigress constantly needing something to focus on. Part of him wanted to call up to her, and try to convince her to climb down from her throne and go, like... take a nap, or something along those lines. He didn't, however, keeping his mouth shut as he padded over near Keona, sitting back and shifting a little. He wasn't quite sure of what would be the news of this meeting, even though he had been around quite a bit of the last several weeks. Sam's death, perhaps news of the Pitt? The thought of the enemy group made his stomach twist unpleasantly, and he clenched his jaw, staring downwards as he waited for Goldie to speak.

Meanwhile, both Roan and Lovekit approached as well, at a somewhat slower pace. Roan looked extremely tired, the sage having been finding sleep incredibly difficult as of late. Even though many claimed he had been working very hard as if late, he still couldn't help but feel partially responsible for Sam's death. The feline sat down with a sigh, unable to meet Goldie's gaze directly – not that she was looking down at any of them, really. Lovekit, meanwhile, seemed far more neutral, still not entirely aware of what had happened, and still wondering where his other mother had gone. He seemed dazed as he moved through the crowd, trying to find one of his siblings before he sat, pressing into their side.

MICHAEL TOWNLEY - THE TYPHOON - PENNED BY STILLY

[sup]template made by tikki[/sup]

[ROXANNE R.]

[glow=white,1,400]I LOVE YOU, CANNIBAL QUEEN ! — ｡+ﾟ.[/glow]

Next to approach was Roxanne Roux, the tigress ambling over with heavy steps still feeling guilty for what she did yet that was the least of her concerns at the time. She was more concerned about her niece who had immediately threw herself back into work, the Officer grimacing and recalling how Goldie hardly ever slept or rested... Not until Samantha had come along did life slow down for the captain of the Typhoon, they had raised children together, engagement, marriage, and had their own children... All was perfect and then it was stripped away from Goldenluxury, Roxanne flicked her ears back until they brushed against the back of her head. Her niece was hurting, Roxie knew this and she had known those many times that she had hurt... Roxanne would provide her niece comfort since it was obviously needed though not now that the meeting was being held. The draconic tigress took a seat beside Michael and Roan, she felt like she had caused more damage than to Aphra's bones... But the trust of those around her, she had already sat down but part of her wanted to move to the back of the crowd... But she did not. [glow=COLOR,1,400] ━ ✧*:･ﾟ[/glow]

[trojan g.]

[align=center][div style="max-width: 425px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 30px; font-family: verdana; font-size: 11px; padding-top: 10px;"]Chickenbone found himself in an odd limbo as he made his way to the meeting at the blow of the horn, ears pricked and eyes wide as he looked over those there, soon pinning them to the skull of his head as he quietly slithered through to his father and grandmother. Used to the happy bustle of the Typhoon, he was worried about those around at the moment. Though he knew they were mourning - something Chickenbone couldn't find himself to do, considering his relationship ( or lack thereof ) with Sam - but they were all so quiet, and so tired.

Finally taking a seat, the squirrel child would look up towards the mourning captain, watching, waiting, and listening.

[GEORGIA.]

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*･ﾟ✧ / BETA / 08 MONTHS

Since Sam’s passing, Georgia had been in an odd state of mind. It was strange, the feeling of distance that made her conscience feel like a helium balloon. The sight of her father’s lifeless body appeared in her dreams, her daydreams, her nightmares; she couldn’t escape it. Her heart was slowly being eaten away by the raw grief that she had yet to cope with. Last night she hadn’t slept; couldn’t sleep. Every time she shut her eyes she was swept away by a torrent of rain and wind as her memories slipped further into darkness. Sam’s death had few literal meanings to her, but it triggered something she had tried so desperately to store away.

When the horn blew, Georgia jumped — and consequently fell off the roof of the hut she was curled up on. She was so wrapped up in her own brain that the noise just about paralyzed her; luckily, she was able to recover quickly and hit the ground on all fours.

”Jesus fucking Christ,” Gia breathed, trying desperately to smooth the fur along her spine. Whatever the fuck that was could die. She didn’t even know what that horn was for. Shaken, she watched as a couple npc’s streamed out of the cabin she’d been dissociating on.

Curious and seeking a distraction from her own brain, she followed them towards a much larger gathering. Georgia sat on the edges of the crowd, not terribly interested in what was going on other than the fact that it was probably important. Her eyes roamed the crowd, fur already itching with unease. She despised large crowds and everything they stood for. Eyes flicking briefly to Goldie, she noticed that her mentor looked justifiably terrible.

© LEXASPERATED/APRICOT

[devland]

[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 60%; min-height: 8px; font-family: arial; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; padding: 25px"]'Too many emotions.'

That thought swirled for hours in Devland's mind after Sam's passing. He couldn't and didn't want to understand the sheer volume of sorrow that spilled forth from everyone, especially Goldie. The tired, tear-soaked eyes of his fellow Typhoon members made his skin crawl, and the tight frowns that scored their lips made him shiver. The way everyone so freely grieved left him feeling oddly broken, like he had missed something, like he wasn't behaving properly. He hated that feeling, and the agitation that pooled inside of him only grew as he followed the masses towards the meeting hall. He felt no anger towards them; instead, he was disappointed in himself for his apathy.

Upon his arrival, he spotted Michael, Roan, and Georgia. Though he knew them all well, he refused to join them. His eyes landed on the familiar forms of Keona, Lovekit, Roxanne, and Chickenbone, but he made no move to sit near them either. The brown feline claimed an unoccupied section of the Deep Sea Dome, pressed close to the back wall, as far away from the palpable sadness as possible.

He shifted, feeling quite uncomfortable, and turned his attention to the walls, watching fish dart back and forth. He wished he could be so unaware. He rolled his shoulders, hoping the meeting would start soon.

[Grimm]

THE TACTICIAN

Someday I’ll make something out of me, years of imitating mastery only made me a better thief

Something may not seep from the realm reality bore with a tense finality based on the festering growth settled into delicate chambers, cloying the bloom hate carved until it was all that may be known. Yet, within the disquieted threads of unravelling thought, it found welcome soil, a place open and beckoning, decay a lulling song as skeletal fingers plucked loose strings. Had been it them possibly all may be well, the vacancy present behind once bright depths may receded, a spark for a flame.

In. Burning pressure, the overfilled lungs offered weak protest at the withhold of release, clumsy each step. Out. Hiccuped exhale, laughter that should not have danced upon the severe turn lips held, yet there it lay, a mockery. Before the light filtering through cavernous space may touch upon child gone was it, swept aside until tightly had been pressed the closure of mouth. There was no aid of thought in action, simply comfort sought as closer did they stumble, a listless boat merely allowing the tide to do as it may wish.

Reaching, hesitation, moments if contact was permitted. Miniscule felt Harlow before her, the broken princess who carried within her veins the eye of endless storm, subdued and quiet in a manner she carried poorly, reaching for her. Too soon must they depart, rolling hitch breaking breathy they tried in vein to stifle, placement found where few had gathered. Short their time of solitude, much too so, but welcome at least this company.

Into weight did they nestle, selfish their want to take and take the comfort Lovekit offered with such contact, uncaring that he sought it in kind. Upwards the lift of chin until under jaw was their nose briefly pressed, all they may muster for now though the desire to draw him closer cast an itch beneath their skin.

code by Reggan

[PAOLA]

[shadow=black,left]PAOLA VASQUEZ[/shadow]

I just wanna taste it; Watermelon sugar high!

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The air is thick and palpable with something far too heavy to put into words. It causes Paola's own pawsteps to stumble and hesitate, slowing, stalling, until they reluctantly carry her to the growing crowd of crewmates, each of them nearly as somber as the next. She feels like a stranger trespassing on a private endeavour, and she wonders if the horn had meant something else until she catches sight of a few familiar faces her age.

Paola starts heading towards them but stops almost as soon as she takes a first step, noting their expressions—instead, Paola finds herself sitting where she stands, separated from the crowd and her friends entirely. She's unsure how to approach them, and the air of mourning furthers her doubt.

In the end, the young she-cat wraps her long tail impossibly tight around herself and waits for the meeting to begin, green eyes falling on Goldie before fixing on the mineral skulls instead. This can't be easy on her—this can't be easy for any of them—and although Paola wishes she can offer anything to help ease their grief, the reality is that she cannot.

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10 MOONS

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BETA

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TYPHOON

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SHE/HER

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© AUDACITY

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BABY'S GOT A FACE LIKE THUNDER:

GENERAL.
• paola vasquez | paola, pao | click here for bio
• unknown origin | unknown birthplace
• appears to be 10 or 11 moons | unknown parentage
• female | she/her | lesbian
• the typhoon | beta | the blackjack rats

APPEARANCE.
• thick-furred black smoke norwegian forest cat with an absurdly long tail
• wears multiple gold earrings on each ear
• wears the typhoon's required charm bracelet
• carries a small leather satchel filled with trinkets
• physically fit, no injuries, no visible health issues

PERSONALITY.
• non-judgemental, friendly; easy to get along with; relaxed, patient, sincere; can usually be encouraged to accompany people without struggle; usually in a happy mood
• strategic but takes her time; unwilling to make decisions for other people; unbothered by both isolation and company; an anything-goes type of person
• usually undriven and bored; self-criticizing, self-doubting; mischievous and does a lot of things for attention; lonely and desperately craves company; lost

INTERACTIONS.
• physically moderate | mentally difficult
• fights only when necessary or playfully
• hard to truly provoke | easy to calm down
• fire and electricity elementals | conjuration
• non-violent interactions are always allowed
• attack in bolded #f7a57b text | mention [member=15708]PAOLA[/member]

[Luciferr]

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Luciferus was once again as usual, hovering at the back of the group, with solemn old eyes fixed on their leader who didn’t at all look good - but then who would?

He sighed quietly and settled in for the announcements.