07-23-2018, 02:49 AM
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DOES THE BLANK STARE-
SCARE YOU MORE THAN THE FROWN?
[W]iskerDOES THE BLANK STARE-
SCARE YOU MORE THAN THE FROWN?
[div style="background-color:#BG COLOR;width:90%; overflow: stretch;text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;color: #E0EEEE;text-transform:lowercase"] The ocean is as vast as it is dangerous, a sweeping tide could end the life of the island’s habitats if the gods would have their way. If gods were anything more than distant, maybe there would have been a touch more cruelty within the latest tsunami, a little more death- a stronger current, and instead of a few missing persons and a great many lost things it could have been a ghost of a memory in the lingering thoughts of passing immortals. The ocean is so dangerous, so dark and gruesome and wrathful.-
a force of nature.
It is a comfort on most days, and a reminder on the worst ones. Argus comes to the shoreline in the morning, a routine- a touch of predictable that they make sure everyone known in case they are needed for anything. If there are no meetings, no announcements or exiles or-
A touch of sweetness to get rid of the metal tang in their mouth from hunting the night before. Letting their paws submerge in the water to hide the shaking. Slowly their mind comes awake, a slow unfurl. careful of the sharp edges bright maroon dims with the sun's light. It's all... soft in the morning. Sitting here on the edges of the wave's touch, argus never truly went to sleep the night before- seldom does, but this retinue is part of their normalcy. Part of grounding, to help separate what happens at night to what happens during the day.
It takes maybe... thirty minutes before their mind sharpens into something usable again. When the shivers down their back is more from the water than anything else, they leave the water's edge. Shakeing off the water and moving to patrol along the coast. Here is were it varies, sometimes they will find something interesting to do. Or a newcomer to trick, or a crewmate to converse with. It's the typhoon, so it always tends to vary dramatically. Today, before they manged to take a few steps from the water they sot a pile of plywood not far from the shoreline. Driftwood or ruins from someone's old home. They pull a gnarled knot of wood farther onto the beach and set it down. Unfurling a wing to pull out a smaller blade than the large katana strapped to their back, they set it to the wood.
Slowly, the wood begins to shape.
a force of nature.
It is a comfort on most days, and a reminder on the worst ones. Argus comes to the shoreline in the morning, a routine- a touch of predictable that they make sure everyone known in case they are needed for anything. If there are no meetings, no announcements or exiles or-
A touch of sweetness to get rid of the metal tang in their mouth from hunting the night before. Letting their paws submerge in the water to hide the shaking. Slowly their mind comes awake, a slow unfurl. careful of the sharp edges bright maroon dims with the sun's light. It's all... soft in the morning. Sitting here on the edges of the wave's touch, argus never truly went to sleep the night before- seldom does, but this retinue is part of their normalcy. Part of grounding, to help separate what happens at night to what happens during the day.
It takes maybe... thirty minutes before their mind sharpens into something usable again. When the shivers down their back is more from the water than anything else, they leave the water's edge. Shakeing off the water and moving to patrol along the coast. Here is were it varies, sometimes they will find something interesting to do. Or a newcomer to trick, or a crewmate to converse with. It's the typhoon, so it always tends to vary dramatically. Today, before they manged to take a few steps from the water they sot a pile of plywood not far from the shoreline. Driftwood or ruins from someone's old home. They pull a gnarled knot of wood farther onto the beach and set it down. Unfurling a wing to pull out a smaller blade than the large katana strapped to their back, they set it to the wood.
Slowly, the wood begins to shape.