Seeking Adventure| Joiner

[Keona.]

[align=center]blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly

She holds onto a vague memory; hearing the sound of waves against a shore for the first time, the feeling of sand, the earth, beneath her tiny paws.  Her father, warmly explaining they had a new home.  She still wondered sometimes, why he gave up being a captain of his own crew just to raise her on land, but she appreciates it in the end.  The Typhoon was her home, just like he planned on.

Though Keona first touched down on the shores of Barracuda Bay, most arrived by the gate.  They trekked across the railroad tracks.  They lingered then, at the wooden gate, waiting.  A new life suspended in a moment.  The beginning.  Did they hold their breath?  Count the seconds? Or did they spend that time wondering?  A crew meant a family, a team, friends, but it also meant, suddenly, you became a part of others’ lives.  Not just one other, but many others.  Did they stop to wonder whether or not that’s what they want, to ponder what their cremates might see, looking at them?

As time past, Keona grew more confident.  She felt the prickle of her fur less, when others stared at her.  The thoughts invaded her head sometimes, spiraling down, one real question; am I weak? Being tiny as she was, and born without sight, the fae fought against the idea others misjudged her.  Expected less of her.

She found her petite form possessed advantages of slipping about, but she desired the mutual respect of others, to be seen as an equal.  Obviously, Goldie saw in her some strength and character, to promote her to Privateer.  To trust her with matters unknown to the entire crew save the two of them (and one other).  The Captain believed in her.  Ideally, the crew did too.

So while she appreciated being small in stature, she burned with a spirit much brighter and bigger than her tiny body.

When her little paws halted on one side of the gate, she sensed, rather than heard, a newcomer.  Unfamiliar smell.  The tingling sensation of someone near.  They simply sat, rather than ring the bells.  Fine.  Keona imagined she’d do the same; silent, inconspicuous.  Her pale, sea-green hues danced, attempting to lock on somewhere near, if not at, the quiet stranger.  Someone barely larger than her.

"Aloha," her voice rings out softly, yet confident.  She’d met many here, at this gate.  "Can I help you?"

✯ — keona sibéal ó faoláin. female. privateer of the typhoon. blind. rusty spotted cat.  ref. bio.