LIKE THE KING SAID + o, joining

[rochelle]

[align=center][div style="borderwidth=0px; text-align: justify; width: 550px; padding-bottom: 17px; overflow: stretch; border-bottom: 2px dashed;"]There had been another place. When she was running from her past, trying to find some sort of sanctuary, she ran away from the water instead of to it. It’d been a hot place, much like the Typhoon, but the sand there was sharp and scorching on her paws. It was unforgiving, which she thought would somehow make her skin so thick that the guilt and the grief wouldn’t hurt her anymore. But then one day ... it was strange, she woke up and her scenery was different, almost like her first few days in that place had all been a dream.

And ever since then, that’s all she believed, that that old home had been a dream. She wished so dearly she could think the same of her birth group, the Styxys. The Typhoon though, she never wanted to forget it. While still a fresh face, Rochelle didn’t want to forget the things that’s happened to her here already. They were, albeit grounding and chilling things, they were making her out to be a better being. It was the water, she believed, it was the goddess Nereides taking the weight of the past off her shoulders, running pristine, cold water over her body, washing away her sins. So often she waded in the ocean to feel this way, especially when the water was colder in temperature.

It was around that time when, while laying amongst the gentle waves on the shore, she looked back to see figures standing by the gate. Immediately, she rose, trotting over to the group, trying her best to shake the saltwater droplets from her dark brown pelt. She arrived to hear the blonde pitbull speak, and she smiled, eyeing her curiously. She looked to Pincher, dipping her head, and then Luca, who welcomed the joiner quite well.

”Calypso,” she murmured calmly, serene eyes looking back at the tall canine, ”I’m Rochelle. Welcome to the Typhoon.” The lupine stated, but as she did, a weird thought crossed her mind. Calypso? She knew that name, surely. And yet, looking at the blonde, she was reminded of nothing. Maybe the way she stood, how tall and guarded ... if she really thought of the name ... Calypso. The lupine stared out far behind where the joiner stood, feeling the sand between her paws get hotter and harder, almost like the sun was getting more intense and drier, soaking up all the moisture from her pelt, from her throat. The desert. Then Rochelle snapped out of it, looking down to see the wet sand below her, the droplets of ocean water hanging from her soft fur. ”Uh-h ... I’m Roch— I mean, never mind about that. It’s nice to meet you.”