08-07-2019, 02:41 AM
VANDAL ROUX | resides in the typhoon and is the monster of stormy waters. she is a lean black maned wolf with glowing green eyes, gills, and tongue, and leathery wings errupting from her back. she is a member of the roux family. she is known for being mischievous and charming with a taste for living her best life —— ⚓
❝ CAME UP FROM THAT LAKE OF FIRE; ONLY HAD THAT ONE DESIRE ❞
She isn't sure what draws her to the border in that specific moment. Between reorienting herself with where everything is, meeting new members that hadn't been there before, and trying to find where the fuck she built her old treehouse, she doesn't exactly have a lot of free time in her grasp, but there's a magnetic tug on her chest that pulls her back to the coastline anyway, and she decides she should follow it before she starts losing whatever fur she has left in frustration.
The steady lull of the moonlit waves is familiar; it's the same as it had always been, gurgling gently over fine sand, and she finds some comfort in that, in the fact that not everything has changed. The sea will always be the sea, the sand will alwaus be the sand, and it helps dull the hurt twisting deep in her chest. Everything else has changed, and she doesn't quite know how to deal with that.
Vandal melts into the night, and only her tell-tale green stands out amongst the inky darkness, glowing and dimming with every shaky breath. She spreads her leathery wings and takes to the air, soaring high above the rushing tide and admiring the seamlessness of land and water. It's then that she sees a pale figure, standing on the beach, looking out into the mainland.
Pretty, she thinks, the way the moon kisses her fur like that. It reminds her of another face, another name, dancing gracefully in the back of her mind, so much like—
"... Fischer." She hears the name as soon as she lowers her flight altitude. She's stunned enough that her wings stop moving altogether, and she drops the last handful of feet to the ground, just a short distance away from the Borzoi. Her steps are slow, wary, green eyes clouded in disbelief.
A rush of emotions spring from her chest, nostalgia and familiarity, affection and confusion, anger from what the other had said, where she had been, joy from her introduction, her confirmation—and something else, something overwhelming and powerful and real slamming into her with such ferocity that she struggles to choke down. She's too scared to name it, to call it what it is, but it makes itself known anyway in the tears that trace her cheeks, carving a path down the sides of her face.
"Fischer... Fischer," Vandal calls out, voice trembling, bursting with emotion, spilling at the seams until they unravel in the air between them; so many things unsaid but audible in each breath. With one last, tentative step, the maned wolf leans forward and attempts to wrap her forelegs around the other in a hug, partly to make sure that the ivory canine in front of her is real, and partly because she's selfish, because she missed her, because she... she... she doesn't think she can say it, so she murmurs something else instead. "You're home, I can't believe you're home."
The steady lull of the moonlit waves is familiar; it's the same as it had always been, gurgling gently over fine sand, and she finds some comfort in that, in the fact that not everything has changed. The sea will always be the sea, the sand will alwaus be the sand, and it helps dull the hurt twisting deep in her chest. Everything else has changed, and she doesn't quite know how to deal with that.
Vandal melts into the night, and only her tell-tale green stands out amongst the inky darkness, glowing and dimming with every shaky breath. She spreads her leathery wings and takes to the air, soaring high above the rushing tide and admiring the seamlessness of land and water. It's then that she sees a pale figure, standing on the beach, looking out into the mainland.
Pretty, she thinks, the way the moon kisses her fur like that. It reminds her of another face, another name, dancing gracefully in the back of her mind, so much like—
"... Fischer." She hears the name as soon as she lowers her flight altitude. She's stunned enough that her wings stop moving altogether, and she drops the last handful of feet to the ground, just a short distance away from the Borzoi. Her steps are slow, wary, green eyes clouded in disbelief.
A rush of emotions spring from her chest, nostalgia and familiarity, affection and confusion, anger from what the other had said, where she had been, joy from her introduction, her confirmation—and something else, something overwhelming and powerful and real slamming into her with such ferocity that she struggles to choke down. She's too scared to name it, to call it what it is, but it makes itself known anyway in the tears that trace her cheeks, carving a path down the sides of her face.
"Fischer... Fischer," Vandal calls out, voice trembling, bursting with emotion, spilling at the seams until they unravel in the air between them; so many things unsaid but audible in each breath. With one last, tentative step, the maned wolf leans forward and attempts to wrap her forelegs around the other in a hug, partly to make sure that the ivory canine in front of her is real, and partly because she's selfish, because she missed her, because she... she... she doesn't think she can say it, so she murmurs something else instead. "You're home, I can't believe you're home."
❝ THE TYPHOON — CREWMATE — IMMORTAL — MUTATED MANED WOLF ❞
I TOLD THAT DEVIL TO TAKE YOU BACK
MAXINE VIENNA "VANDAL" ROUX — TAGS — THE TYPHOON