07-15-2018, 04:19 PM
Vandal wakes up again with a bitter taste on her tongue. While she doesn't blame the cacophony of customers in the sitting room below, she's beginning to feel like her first night back in the Typhoon wouldn't swim so well. She's already tried seven times to get some shut eye, and seven times she's woken up by the sensation of falling, by a dark voice just barely audible in the back of her head, by customers requesting for more mead from the bar - again, she doesn't blame them, she made the choice to stay in the Capricorn Tavern because she's, honestly, too embarrassed to ask Pinchy if he can let her stay for a few days. She appreciates that her brother has welcomed her back, she is, but she knows she shouldn't take advantage of his kindness - no, this is something she has to deal with alone.
The mutated maned wolf slowly shifts off of the hammock she requested to be put up, stretching her wings until each tip nearly brushes either wall of the small room. She stands in the middle for a second, thinking, before nosing through the small knapsack Pinchy dropped off for her and grasping the pack of cigarettes (Marlboro Blues, she loves her brother so much) as well as a common lighter. For a second, she wonders if she should bring anything else - like, say, a weapon - but she's already next to the door and she's too lazy to look for one. She figures her talons are sharp enough, anyway.
She makes her way down the hall quietly, easily sliding down the staircase and through the bustling, half-drunk crowd of ale-smelling customers downstairs. When the front doors swing open, Vandal is quick to slip out, breathing in the colder ocean nights and letting the sudden change in noise volume soothe her sensitive ears. She closes her eyes, lets her nose point the way, and wanders off somewhere into the Typhoon's territory - adventures shouldn't be planned, after all, a planned adventure is nothing more than a chore.
It doesn't take her long to come across Chain somewhere in the depths of who-knows-where, really it's not like she cares much - somehow, all roads will always lead back to her brother, no matter how far she goes. He doesn't smell like someone from her group but the way he smokes so casually in the darkness is an identifier - not a threat (at least, not a threat to them). "Heh, you lost, friend?" Vandal flashes both neon-green eyes at the stranger, the sides crinkling gently in a wry smile. She traps her the filter of her cigarette between her teeth and crushes the mint capsule in between, lighting up when she's sure the material has soaked it up.
Each puff comes with a cold sensation across her tongue and down her throat, lingering in her chest before puffing out again in a thin cloud of nicotine. "Hope you don't mind if I join you in the dark - almost didn't see you if it weren't for uh -" Vandal motions to the light of the cigarette, then to her own glowing markings, the tattoo on her chest, the gills on her neck, her eyes - bright, illuminated in a sea of shadows. She doesn't ask for his name yet, though, she figures there'd be time enough for that. Hel, she knows he'd probably offer it up if he wanted to, Vandal's just out here to smoke and - okay, fine, fine, maybe she could at least do some sort of introduction. "Vandal Roux. Just woke up on the beach this morning. You are?"
The mutated maned wolf slowly shifts off of the hammock she requested to be put up, stretching her wings until each tip nearly brushes either wall of the small room. She stands in the middle for a second, thinking, before nosing through the small knapsack Pinchy dropped off for her and grasping the pack of cigarettes (Marlboro Blues, she loves her brother so much) as well as a common lighter. For a second, she wonders if she should bring anything else - like, say, a weapon - but she's already next to the door and she's too lazy to look for one. She figures her talons are sharp enough, anyway.
She makes her way down the hall quietly, easily sliding down the staircase and through the bustling, half-drunk crowd of ale-smelling customers downstairs. When the front doors swing open, Vandal is quick to slip out, breathing in the colder ocean nights and letting the sudden change in noise volume soothe her sensitive ears. She closes her eyes, lets her nose point the way, and wanders off somewhere into the Typhoon's territory - adventures shouldn't be planned, after all, a planned adventure is nothing more than a chore.
It doesn't take her long to come across Chain somewhere in the depths of who-knows-where, really it's not like she cares much - somehow, all roads will always lead back to her brother, no matter how far she goes. He doesn't smell like someone from her group but the way he smokes so casually in the darkness is an identifier - not a threat (at least, not a threat to them). "Heh, you lost, friend?" Vandal flashes both neon-green eyes at the stranger, the sides crinkling gently in a wry smile. She traps her the filter of her cigarette between her teeth and crushes the mint capsule in between, lighting up when she's sure the material has soaked it up.
Each puff comes with a cold sensation across her tongue and down her throat, lingering in her chest before puffing out again in a thin cloud of nicotine. "Hope you don't mind if I join you in the dark - almost didn't see you if it weren't for uh -" Vandal motions to the light of the cigarette, then to her own glowing markings, the tattoo on her chest, the gills on her neck, her eyes - bright, illuminated in a sea of shadows. She doesn't ask for his name yet, though, she figures there'd be time enough for that. Hel, she knows he'd probably offer it up if he wanted to, Vandal's just out here to smoke and - okay, fine, fine, maybe she could at least do some sort of introduction. "Vandal Roux. Just woke up on the beach this morning. You are?"
TAGS • VANDAL ROUX OF THE TYPHOON
I TOLD THAT DEVIL TO TAKE YOU BACK
MAXINE VIENNA "VANDAL" ROUX — TAGS — THE TYPHOON