08-18-2018, 03:43 PM
The entrance ritual was one of the most difficult trials he had ever faced.
Even if he had known that his senses were being manipulated by the beverage they'd made him imbibe, that everything he had witnessed was false, it would still have been a struggle. And he hadn't known; he was among the first to partake in the ritual after the Typhoon had returned to the island just a few days before, and the high positions had kept the details secret in order to preserve the challenge. (So far as he knew, they still did.) As far as he could tell under the effects of the juice, they had actually recovered his fallen brothers and vengeful sister, who had genuinely wanted to kill him.
He had eventually grown to accept the ritual as part of the Typhoon experience, but to this day, the thought of that night made him shudder internally. He was hardly the only one, either. Every so often, he would see a newer crewmate stumble back into camp, dazed from the bizarre sights they had seen- or haunted by the nightmares they had weathered. They all recovered eventually, but those first few days were tough.
Thus, upon seeing Marigold return to the beach with exhaustion clear from her dragging paws, Paper could only think of one reason. "Just did the jungle juice?" he asked, twitching his good ear. "Once you write your message and toss it out to sea, feel free to crash." A Striker advising the newcomers to sleep would probably seem weird, but after the jungle juice, it was worse for all of them to keep going that day and risk your health than to take some time to rest.
Even if he had known that his senses were being manipulated by the beverage they'd made him imbibe, that everything he had witnessed was false, it would still have been a struggle. And he hadn't known; he was among the first to partake in the ritual after the Typhoon had returned to the island just a few days before, and the high positions had kept the details secret in order to preserve the challenge. (So far as he knew, they still did.) As far as he could tell under the effects of the juice, they had actually recovered his fallen brothers and vengeful sister, who had genuinely wanted to kill him.
He had eventually grown to accept the ritual as part of the Typhoon experience, but to this day, the thought of that night made him shudder internally. He was hardly the only one, either. Every so often, he would see a newer crewmate stumble back into camp, dazed from the bizarre sights they had seen- or haunted by the nightmares they had weathered. They all recovered eventually, but those first few days were tough.
Thus, upon seeing Marigold return to the beach with exhaustion clear from her dragging paws, Paper could only think of one reason. "Just did the jungle juice?" he asked, twitching his good ear. "Once you write your message and toss it out to sea, feel free to crash." A Striker advising the newcomers to sleep would probably seem weird, but after the jungle juice, it was worse for all of them to keep going that day and risk your health than to take some time to rest.
[font=trebuchet ms]some weirdo