I SEE THE BRIG [...] open, washed ashore

[VANDAL R.]

Vandal doesn't rouse to their voices - not theirs, no, it's his voice that brings her out of the deep water and back into consciousness. It feels like a shift, a dream, growing more and more lucid as she's carefully dragged to the surface again. Sounds become clearer, senses become sharper, she can taste sand on her tongue and dryness in her throat, a heaviness in her chest that's getting lighter, a weight slowly being lifted as the last strands of unconsciousness release her back into the waking world.

There are voices buzzing in the air, whispering, talking, questioning - ...ou hear me? It's me, Pincher. Her mind, slowly coming to life, latches onto the name - Pincher, Pinchy, it's enough to plunge her back into cold water and suddenly she's fully awake. The first sound she makes is a tired groan, a murmur of "Five more minutes, Pinchy..." and then it happens. Her first pair of eyelids, solid, part to reveal a translucent sheen, and then her nictitating membranes part sideways to reveal sharp, vivid, neon-green eyes and the slit-like pupils all Roux tend to carry in their genetic makeup.

He looks different, he looks different than when she last saw him - but she knows it's him, can't help but raise one front-talon. She aims to gently push his muzzle to the side, as if to give him a good look, before leaning up and attempting to run her tongue across his cheek happily in greeting. "Well, it is Pinchy - missed me?" The smile on her own narrow muzzle widens, all sharp teeth and neon-green tongue, but then her gaze falters at the bright light of the dawning sun before moving to the side - to, to so many people. "Uh...? Wow. This your peoples?" She pauses, smirks. "They look cute." ...especially that pretty she-wolf over there.

The mirthful expression doesn't leave her face as she twists around to all-fours and finally stands up - she's tall, the tallest maned wolves like her could get, but it's in this position that her four wings seem even bigger than they had been before. Unthinkingly, Vandal stretches the feathered appendages sky-high, reaching as far as she could with her seven-foot wingspan before gently folding each again to her side. "Don't listen to Pinchy over here," she starts with an amused snort, casting a playful gaze her brother's way before continuing, "Only oldies like him call me Max anymore. I'm a vandal - heh - Vandal Roux."

TAGS • VANDAL ROUX OF THE TYPHOON