06-25-2020, 01:06 AM
LIKE THE MOON SAYS TO THE DARK — Many fantastical things tended to happen on the island that all four groups inhabited. Animals had wonderful powers, mythical beasts roamed the land, and people rose from the dead seemingly on a regular basis. As such, it could sometimes become difficult to remember the more... mundane issues that their kind tended to face. Such as the inability to hold onto certain things, or the natural instincts of prey versus predator. One such nuisance that often went unnoticed by many was quite literally a nuisance – fleas. When the summer seasons came around, the awful little bugs delighted in roaming out and infecting any poor animal they could find, crawling all over them and making them itch relentlessly. There were ways to get rid of them, of course, but they involved many vigorous baths, as well as careful inspection of one's entire body. Unfortunately for one Michael Townley, reaver of The Typhoon, his now fiance, Trevor, hadn't really been big on either of those things. The other was a mangy, lanky, and vicious coyote, who often smelled of gasoline unless Michael literally forced him to bathe. As such, it was only natural for him to have fleas. Unfortunately, it also meant that it was natural for him to transfer these fleas over to his future husband.
At first, Michael hadn't noticed the itch that was buried deep beneath his fur. He had bigger things to worry about, and it wasn't as if the occasional itch was that unusual. For the most part, he'd just scratch at his neck or his back, and then the itch would fade for the time being. However, as the weeks had gone on, and the summer had come on in full force, the bobcat found himself suffering. The itch had evolved from the occasional scratch at his back or shoulder into a full-on burning wave of agony that refused to su side. When he had woken up that morning to his current horrible state, he found himself only able to do as much as walk out the door before he stumbled forward into the sand, a cry leaving him. His back legs scratched urgently at his thick fur, as if trying to tear it from his body, and he rolled against the sand, eager to let the graininess of it do the work for him. As he did this, he let out a cacophony of curses, all hissed out one after another, "Shit, fuck, damn it... augh! Fuck!" He was pretty sure he preferred being out in the woods and starving to this. — WE WILL NEVER BE APART
At first, Michael hadn't noticed the itch that was buried deep beneath his fur. He had bigger things to worry about, and it wasn't as if the occasional itch was that unusual. For the most part, he'd just scratch at his neck or his back, and then the itch would fade for the time being. However, as the weeks had gone on, and the summer had come on in full force, the bobcat found himself suffering. The itch had evolved from the occasional scratch at his back or shoulder into a full-on burning wave of agony that refused to su side. When he had woken up that morning to his current horrible state, he found himself only able to do as much as walk out the door before he stumbled forward into the sand, a cry leaving him. His back legs scratched urgently at his thick fur, as if trying to tear it from his body, and he rolled against the sand, eager to let the graininess of it do the work for him. As he did this, he let out a cacophony of curses, all hissed out one after another, "Shit, fuck, damn it... augh! Fuck!" He was pretty sure he preferred being out in the woods and starving to this. — WE WILL NEVER BE APART
— Reggan