LAST OF THE REAL ONES / capture

[SÉAMUS]

☠ Word of mouth there's a snake in the garden —

Another of the Typhoon crew then.  Séamus was beginning to detect an unfortunate pattern.  Of course, all respects to the rest of the crew, but his only concern was truly Sibéal. The endfield held back the urge to wink at the Soothsayer, curious if the angel would even recoginze him in this shape.  Without some clarivoyant ability or an eye for detail on a crewmate he had not spent a lot of the time, Seamus doubted it.  He hoped the winged feline did not, if he was honest, to retain all the discretion he had.

The vulpine angled his head curiously on the angel, though his sea-green eyes flickered towards Keona, storing in his mind that it was Valkyr seemingly in charge of her.  Sibi.  She had that stubborn look in her eyes... He wondered how well that would work out.  Séamus huffed, fluffy tail swaying. "Good catch, though I'm not sure of the use in a little scrap with some useless feathers." Especially when he could not even fly.  A waste really.  Of course, the Irishman would be one to talk; he was not sure if the wings on his own form quite worked.  Perhaps for gliding.

The faerie smirked, a habitual movement of his lips.  There was a wry gleam in his eyes if one looked close enough to catch it. He thought that the soothsayer was a strategic catch, really, but he could only wonder the hell about to be paid because of it.  From his experience, it was never a good idea to go for the medic.  Not unless you were prepared for the consequences.  It would certainly be interesting to see how the pirate crew reacted to this.
[div style="text-align: right; text-transform: uppercase; text-shadow: 0px 0px 2px #009E60; font-size: 15px;"]— SÉAMUS Ó FAOLÁN ☠

#psychosocial.