08-18-2020, 11:37 PM
Some on the island probably considered Michael to be a coward, considering he had never gone under the effects of the jungle juice. However, he just considered himself to be smart. After all, why would he ever want to go under a hallucinogen that caused him to see his greatest fears? Let alone his deepest desires. He already knew what his deepest desires were, all without some stupid juice relaying them back to him. Happy family, gold, power, entertainment... it was all obvious, and he didn't need to risk facing some horrible mutated version of his father just to play around in fantasy land for a day. He was a perfectly fine reaver without it, and while he sometimes questioned whether he was living up to expectations, it was never because of that. Anyone stupid enough to actually accuse him of being a coward would know better as soon as teeth sunk into their face, so he wasn't too worried about it. Besides, any desire he may have had to go through the ritual was dashed the moment Roxie came back legitimately injured from it.
Needless to say, Michael had little to no idea why the hell Trygve had decided that the island would be a great place to live. After all, there were plenty of homes back on the mainland, not to mention the other wide variety of housing besides the huts. However, even as Ry's mentor, the thief knew that there was little way to change the kid's mind after it had been made, so he was stuck going out to the island if he wanted to visit. Unlike Seapaw, however, Michael had very little interest in diving below the sea in order to do so. He liked the water in small doses, yes, but he didn't have the deep connection to the sea that some crew members of The Typhoon had, so he preferred to just head out on one of the boats that went back and forth. It was a little bit of a hassle roping someone else into paddling for him if he got really lazy, but pregnancy really did a wonder as an excuse. Not to mention the fact that there were some NPCs that simply made that their job. He couldn't imagine how boring it must've been, just going back and forth, but at least you didn't really have to work often.
The coyote had been half draped out of the small boat carrying him, when he spotted both Paola and Seapaw on the beach, a frown immediately coming to his muzzle. Seapaw seemed fine, but the sight of someone curled up into what was essentially the fetal position was never good. Especially when that someone was Paola, someone that Michael had actually been starting to like. Turning around a bit, the reaver let out a sharp bark to let his "driver" know to go faster, and it wasn't long before they hit the sandy shore, the lanky canine leaping out once they did. He was hesitant in heading over to where Paola was, not wanting to make things worse, but a larger part of him urged his legs forward. It was sort of surreal, wanting to act protectively and almost fatherly to the teenagers of The Typhoon after how poorly Michael's father had treated him, but perhaps that was his way of coping. Making sure that no one else had to live a life as bad as his had been. Not that he considered himself to be a father to anyone save for perhaps Trygve, obviously. He wouldn't stick himself in that role for anyone, unless they wanted him to occupy it.
Once he had reached where Seapaw and Paola were, he gently flicked his tail against Seapaw's spine, wordlessly greeting the boy. All of his attention was on Paola, and the faintly shaking form of the poor curled up shecat. Hesitantly, he leaned down to touch his muzzle to her head, muttering questioningly, "Paola...? Are you alright? I'm assuming this was from the jungle juice... none of it was real. Just remember that." He tried to keep his voice as soothing and even as possible, one dark paw coming up to gently drape over her in a reassuring weight. Maybe it was because she was obviously distressed, or maybe it was just the hormones from the pups, but Michael immediately felt extremely protective. He had always hated the jungle juice ritual, and this only motivated him to hate it more. After all, what the hell had it even accomplished, aside from scaring Paola shitless and causing trouble for most of them?
Needless to say, Michael had little to no idea why the hell Trygve had decided that the island would be a great place to live. After all, there were plenty of homes back on the mainland, not to mention the other wide variety of housing besides the huts. However, even as Ry's mentor, the thief knew that there was little way to change the kid's mind after it had been made, so he was stuck going out to the island if he wanted to visit. Unlike Seapaw, however, Michael had very little interest in diving below the sea in order to do so. He liked the water in small doses, yes, but he didn't have the deep connection to the sea that some crew members of The Typhoon had, so he preferred to just head out on one of the boats that went back and forth. It was a little bit of a hassle roping someone else into paddling for him if he got really lazy, but pregnancy really did a wonder as an excuse. Not to mention the fact that there were some NPCs that simply made that their job. He couldn't imagine how boring it must've been, just going back and forth, but at least you didn't really have to work often.
The coyote had been half draped out of the small boat carrying him, when he spotted both Paola and Seapaw on the beach, a frown immediately coming to his muzzle. Seapaw seemed fine, but the sight of someone curled up into what was essentially the fetal position was never good. Especially when that someone was Paola, someone that Michael had actually been starting to like. Turning around a bit, the reaver let out a sharp bark to let his "driver" know to go faster, and it wasn't long before they hit the sandy shore, the lanky canine leaping out once they did. He was hesitant in heading over to where Paola was, not wanting to make things worse, but a larger part of him urged his legs forward. It was sort of surreal, wanting to act protectively and almost fatherly to the teenagers of The Typhoon after how poorly Michael's father had treated him, but perhaps that was his way of coping. Making sure that no one else had to live a life as bad as his had been. Not that he considered himself to be a father to anyone save for perhaps Trygve, obviously. He wouldn't stick himself in that role for anyone, unless they wanted him to occupy it.
Once he had reached where Seapaw and Paola were, he gently flicked his tail against Seapaw's spine, wordlessly greeting the boy. All of his attention was on Paola, and the faintly shaking form of the poor curled up shecat. Hesitantly, he leaned down to touch his muzzle to her head, muttering questioningly, "Paola...? Are you alright? I'm assuming this was from the jungle juice... none of it was real. Just remember that." He tried to keep his voice as soothing and even as possible, one dark paw coming up to gently drape over her in a reassuring weight. Maybe it was because she was obviously distressed, or maybe it was just the hormones from the pups, but Michael immediately felt extremely protective. He had always hated the jungle juice ritual, and this only motivated him to hate it more. After all, what the hell had it even accomplished, aside from scaring Paola shitless and causing trouble for most of them?
MICHAEL TOWNLEY-PHILLIPS - THE TYPHOON - REAVER
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