brush fingers with your creator // joiner + injured

[eggplant18]

//jazz hands
i'm pretty much starting over with this guy
if you've met him ICly in the past, disregard it pls
no need to match muse!! this is mostly just introduction
tl;dr - just read the last 5 paragraphs


Nobody knew where he came from.

One day there was silence. The next day, there was still silence, but... the being that came with it was purple. Bright - ridiculously bright - purple. Feet plodded through the undergrowth, leaving faint imprints in the damp earth below. Empty, bright cyan eyes stared straight ahead, carefully trained on their peripherals to spot any predators that may be lurking. Insects buzzed loudly all around, their unique sounds and song reverberating through the tall jungle canopies overhead. Birds that chimed in only added to the symphony of sound.

His surroundings were wildly unfamiliar. Although his head was high and his expression was blank, his knees were weak and his hands shook when he lifted them. Any living creature he heard could be feet or miles away, but they all sounded the same. They screeched in a threatening tone, as if warning him to leave their lands. However, that was preposterous. Sentient animals would not make the sounds these feral creatures did. They had no conscience. No emotions. They only felt aggression and fear.

Where he yielded from was far, far from this place. All the way out in the mountain ranges, near a small and familiar forest. From a shallow cave wedged into a stone wall on a rocky outcrop, overlooking a lush valley. Not from here, in the shady, humid, and damp jungle, where he had little luck finding food he knew to be safe to eat. A parched throat quivered with a reflexive swallow.

He was purple. Bright purple, as previously mentioned - and covered in scales. He was a dragon. Not a large, fearsome predator spoken of in myths and legend, with the power to breathe fire and the hobby of burning down villages and hoarding treasure. No, he couldn't breathe fire. On top of that, he was small, almost runty in size. Up to his shoulder, he stood only a little taller than three feet; four feet max, if his head was included. His wings had deep purple swirls on them, and his belly was of similar color. Upon his back he carried a lumpy canvas bag tied shut with rope. The only belongings he had brought with him. He was strong, but his body was exhausted. There was little time left.

Scratches and scrapes littered his body, but there were a few notable injuries that seemed to have come from a fight, namely a bite mark in his shoulder, and a long scratch mark down his back, hidden by the bag. Medical knowledge was not among his array of intellect, and it was obvious in the way the wounds were beginning to fester. The pain that itched and burned through the older wounds was persistent, but it seemed to not bother him at all as he continued on his self-induced journey.

All at once, sunlight began to shine through the trees as they thinned out, and he found himself on the shore. The broken tracks he had been following dipped down into the water, stretching on for as far as he could see, ending at the small green line on the horizon. Approaching the water, sand caked his muddy feet.

A moment of debate brought him to sit down, sliding the bag off his back to rest. Very little thought was put behind his long trek to this place. Something had told him he couldn't stay at his old home anymore. He briefly thought of the two corpses that lay on the cliffside where he once resided, and contemplated whether scavengers would have picked the bones clean by now. Yes, likely so. A twinge spiked through the now-exposed wound on his back, which had begun to ooze blood again after the rough bag slid off.

Walking down to the water's edge, he took a moment to wash the mud and sand off, then sat back so they could dry. Tainting the bag with filth wasn't preferable.

After about an hour had passed, the dragon finally pushed himself to his feet again, working the bag onto his back with help from his wings, and began to wade into the water that covered the railroad tracks. At its deepest, he found the rippling water brushing his belly.

The three-mile travel was laborious, the strength of his body already expended from the week long journey it took to arrive here. The further out to sea he was, the stronger the waves that buffeted and tugged at him. He once nearly fell over into the water, and he raised his wings to stabilize and protect his belongings.

By the time he arrived on the other shore, the sun was deepening to a red haze and grabbing at the horizon. He clambered up the gentle slope, away from the water. Against his will, his knees buckled, the bag falling off. Rather than trying to stand up (he couldn't seem to succeed at the task), he laid quietly in the sand to collect his bearings and calm his swaying vision.

[align=center]ATTACK IN BOLD #6e65b5 - TAGS
[i]note - ska'arq does NOT have the necklace as shown in his pfp

[Keona.]

[align=center]

If I fall, get knocked down, pick myself up off the ground

The taste of iron in the air catches the tiny feline first.  Nose twitching and rounded ears perking in sudden attention.  Small paws halting where she stood.  In thought, pale sea-green hues flashed, flickering as she attempted to identify if she had found an injured crewmate.  No.  Unfamiliar scent.

Whoever they were, Keona knew they suffered injuries.  The Dealer blinks as she decides to approach.  Slow, steady steps.  "Aloha."  She lets her quiet voice ring.  A moment.  A spotted tail flicks behind her.  "Are you hurt?" An atypical first question, but specific circumstances called for specific responses.  The fae felt better to ask of health before purpose.  Aid may be the purpose.

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

[bubblegum]

[roan ;]

[align=center][div style="width: 45%; text-align: justify; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: times new roman;"]♡ — The tang of blood upon the breeze was a scent that Roan had learned of only recently, when he had accidentally cut his leg during his ill fated attempt to fly. It was an unpleasant scent overall, and the coppery taste that filled his mouth when he scented it nearly made the boy recoil, his nose wrinkling and his eyes narrowing a little bit as he tried to figure out what the source of it was. His tracking skills weren't so great yet, so he was having a bit of trouble until two figures went rushing by him, evidently towards whatever had been injured. The first was his big half sister, Keona, and the other was his cousin, Goldie. Both figures were important people in his life, so if his curiosity hadn't already been piqued up to that point, it certainly was now. Ears perking up a little bit, the boy pushed himself up from his position in the sand and hurriedly raced after Goldie, his tiny paws carrying him right on her heels. The boy of course knew very little about healing beyond what he could parse out just from watching, so it was doubtful that he'd be of any help in that area. However, he could always provide emotional support to whoever was hurt. The little draconic kit liked to think of himself as pretty good at cheering others up, and he could make sure that this newcomer was distracted while they were treated.

Before long, the little group came upon the injured Ska'arq, and Roan found himself blinking in surprise at the male's appearance. Despite being of draconic descent, Roan had never actually seen a dragon before, save for within the pages of his storybooks. Still, it was sort of... exciting, seeing a creature that was like him. They certainly weren't the exact same, but they both had the horns and the wings that separated Roan from all of the other kits that he had met, and he found himself excitedly stumbling over to in front of Ska'arq, eyes lit up. The boy could hear both Keona and Goldie speaking in the background, but his attention was focused fully on the newcomer, his tiny paws aching to reach out and touch one of the other's horns. The child managed to restrain himself, however, mumbling out softly, "Oh. You're like me..." When his cousin spoke up again from behind him, Roan was seemingly broken from his trance, lifting his head and looking at her for a moment before turning back to the brightly colored dragon. He meowed softly, looking a little apologetic for his odd greeting – although his sheepishness was swiftly replaced by excitement, "Ah... yeah! Yeah, my cousin Goldie and Keona can fix you up really well! They're really good at stuff like this!"

[ROXANNE R.]

[glow=white,1,400]I LOVE YOU, CANNIBAL QUEEN ! — ｡+ﾟ.[/glow]

Roxanne knew the smell of blood well enough, her feelings towards it was mixed, it was hard to say really but she knew that she didn't  like the smell when it lingered with the scent of her kin. The last thing Roxie wanted was her family to be wounded by something or someone, she was determined to at least make an attempt at protecting those dear to her. But blood also meant the smell of prey, what kind one would ask? Well, in Roxanne's case, it could be anyone yet her cravings for that kind of meat had died down since the arrival of her son, Roan, she had managed to bury the beast deep down within the darkness of her mind. Every now and then, it would come back tempting her to take a bite out of one of the drunks that roamed around the tavern helplessly but she resisted it every time even if it felt odd to dent herself something she hadn't tasted in a long while. Even when it was the dead of the night, Roxanne would stir with these animalistic impulses of hers though now it was easier to subdue with her boyfriend living with her since his arms were normally wrapped around her, keeping her there. Sleep would always find her. Only a few people had seen her feeding frenzy once, the faces of shock she had gotten that day had disturbed her. She had wanted to disappear in that moment. Of course, she couldn't that day but Pincher had been there for her when she needed it. She was thankful for her brother even if his presence within the Typhoon was nothing, she could still feel him lingering. Not here but she figured that he was somewhere out there.

Dumbass.

The thought pulled her out of her brief daze, she would find herself making her way towards the smell of blood. Her fur pricking upwards realizing that the metallic smell clung to someone new, unrecognizable, she supposed a new face around the group would be a treat. Her walking turned into a bit of a trot, once she got there did she realize that it was a dragon, a brightly colored draconic beast too, she found a snort escaping her as she took a few more steps forward. Her whiskers twitched as she brushed up against Roan hearing what he said to the stranger, he wasn't wrong, Roxie knew of her draconic lineage though she hardly ever spoke about it unless her son asked her on about it. An amused twinkle would appear in her mismatched gaze, she would nod over to Goldie and Keona only to pipe in "I can help if needed," A small smile on her face, she glanced over to the dragon once more realizing that they were rather calm about all the injuries. For something colored so brightly, it's emotions were rather monotone, it gave her a slight feeling of unease. [glow=COLOR,1,400] ━ ✧*:･ﾟ[/glow]

[eggplant18]

//OOC

He laid in the sand for quite a while, which was admittedly unusual for the reptile. He found himself lost in his mind while he waited for his body to resume normal function. When the scent of blood and a stranger began to attract attention, the dragon seemed to blatantly ignore the tiny cat that approached - or, rather, perhaps didn’t notice. His eyes were open, but they stared ahead, glazed over from the contents in his head that he currently dwelled on.

It was only when the second feline approached, this one much bigger, that he responded. ”Yes,” he said curtly, voice devoid of anything that might suggest suffering or feeling. He offered no indication as to who he was responding to. Abruptly, he pushed himself upright, staring into the abnormal tiger’s bicolored eyes, summing up whether or not she posed a threat to him. No, she only seemed opting to assist him. Much appreciated," he continued in his monotone voice. His expression did not show any appreciation. "I do not have any medical knowledge." Turning his head away from her, he peered out over the crystalline blue sea, tracking the rails all the way to the faint mainland on the horizon. He laid back on his side again.

He had never been injured much when he was younger. His mother had given them a few pointers on how to hunt, but when she was present, there was never any real danger. After she left them, any injuries he obtained were mild, and were treated by Jiqari, one of his two sisters. Quietly in his mind, he replayed a gruesome scene, thinking again about how they had responded in the moment. Amazing. The bite mark in his shoulder twinged again.

Another tiny cat approached him. This one also had wings, like the tiger. They were green. He watched the child in his temptations, who stopped himself short. You're like me. Hardly, he thought. Nobody in his family was green. Or a cat. Goldie and Keona. Cyan eyes flickered over to the tiger and other tiny cat. He focused on the one that had approached first. Her eyes were clouded, and she had asked a blatantly obvious question. Blind? The tiger had asked if she knew what berries smelled like, rather than looked like. He concluded that she was blind.

Another cat approached. This one also had wings. Three out of the four cats here had wings. Was this a common part of this island's population? Was the blind one just an oddity? Eyes scanned over the newcomer. Something about her was off. She was clearly sentient, but he couldn't quite figure it out. Regardless, he said nothing as she offered her services as well.

[align=center]ATTACK IN BOLD #6e65b5 - TAGS
[i]note - ska'arq does NOT have the necklace as shown in his pfp

[ROSEMARY]

[align=center]

Rosemary despises crowds. Her skin crawls when too many cluster around her. Yet nobody else displays such social anxiety in the Typhoon, and she stews in self-inflicted isolation. Medics do not confide. Especially medics that left the Typhoon for a group that picked up radical religious practices.

With a sigh, the ocelot picks her way through the crowd, tips of her forked tail flicking sporadically. The dragon appears injured, with gashes she smells from meters away. She thinks of the dragons she’s known, Lucifer and Bai Shi, but she wonders if this one is also a gentle giant. For Rosemary is a skittish woman, afraid of plenty and always lost drowning in memories. Hardship, she knows too much hardship, but the emotionless mask she wears prevents others from seeing the obvious.

Her paws drag sluggishly, sand parting for her. The satchel at her side, a lightweight fabric obtained from a Sunhaven merchant before the group merged and lost themselves, smells like herbs and alcohol. Rosemary’s own scent, her namesake and black tea, never stinks of alcohol. Catnip, occasionally, but never alcohol.

“No need, I‌ have bandages and moonshine with me,” Rosemary says to Keona, one pair of her eyes drifting to each member of the pirate crew. The other remains fixed on the dragon, and she wonders about him.

He is impassive. Too impassive. As someone that cannot express emotion properly, she recognizes a sort of kindred spirit in him. She wonders, as she sits down near him, whether he feels emotion and laments at how they squirm, always locked away. She could empathize with that. This is her life, after all, she knows it far too well.

“Moonshine will sting on your wounds, but it’ll be fine for a field dressing. You’ll want to swing by and see one a healer at the temple later, though. Probably repeatedly, multiple times a week, until the infection stench goes away,” she tells him, matter of factly. If she could speak with warmth, she would, but she does not.

Rummaging around her bag, she pulls out a few tiny glasses of bottled moonshine. Setting them by her side, she frowns up at the tall dragon. She cannot sniff out all of his various cuts and scraps by smell. “Roxie, could you take one of these and fly around him? I‌ want to make sure we get at least some disinfectant on all his wounds, that we don’t miss anything,” she asks, knowing her sister is a damn good flier.

“Do you need water or food? One of us could get you some,” she asks, ears twitching as she turns her four eyes to the purple dragon. Most injured joiners – or, even, most joiners – suffer from dehydration in her experience. They come washed up on shore or labor to cross the bridge, panting in the heat. “And your name? It seems rude to call you you or the dragon all the time.”

The healer would then set to work on disinfecting that nasty bite wound and bandaging it up. The rest of his wounds look fine enough to simply wait for him to get to the temple, but… this one worries her. Bite marks make for the worst infections.

waded through the spirits like a flood on the floor

[align=center]

SHE PUSHED THE WATER INSIDE

© LEXASPERATED

[Keona.]

[align=center]

If I fall, get knocked down, pick myself up off the ground

Keona felt the eyes on her, ears perked to follow the directions of everyone's voices.  A steady reply for Goldie's inquiry forming on her tongue before Rosemary arrived on scene, the smell of herbs in wake.  The faerie felt her tail twitch, impassive.  She did know juniper, at least.  Only thanks to Kian and Raziel.  Burnet, felt unfamiliar.

She was glad Rosemary carried field supplies on her.  The tiny feline felt unequipped for injured joiners but she could hardly help her disinterest in the medical field.  Many leaves were larger than her.  Oh well.  Keona blinked and moved to give Rosemary more room with the stranger, listening to her directions as well and storing the scent of the specific herbs to memory.  It could be useful later.

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

[eggplant18]

//oh!! he's not actually huge! he's roughly the size of a tiger, like goldie (willing to bet goldie is bigger than him tho)
specifically he's 3'3" (about 1 meter) tall

His theory that this island was inhabited by nothing but cats with peculiar traits was almost confirmed by now. A new one had joined the fray. Rather than wings, this one had four eyes. And a split tail. For a moment - a little longer than a moment - he stared at her, while she stared at him. This seemed to be the one with the most medical knowledge. Enthusiast? No, that didn't seem to be the case.

Was he an enthusiast? Not for medical knowledge, no. Would any knowledge seeker be considered an 'enthusiast'? What drew the line between the distinctions?

He let his thoughts fade into the back of his mind, to be resurfaced at a later date. Listening quietly to the ocelot's words as she sat beside him, he said nothing. Her words were blunt, almost empty. Like him? No, not quite. She still had something he didn't. What? What was it? He still couldn't figure out what it was he lacked, what would finally allow him to fully understand the feelings of those that lived around him. Or, perhaps, to feel those emotions himself. That was what unsettled anyone who spoke to him - he had no emotions. He had nothing to relate to others.

The dragon stared intensely at the healer cat. Perhaps he would inquire later. She was the closest case to his own that he had met in his whole life. Had she been born like him? Had she found the answer that he could not?

"Yes," he answered to her instructions. The reptile laid still while she worked on the bite on his shoulder, and memories flashed back to the set of jaws that had inflicted it. He could still feel the snap of a neck in his grip, the collapse of the body on the stone.

Twisting his head around to get a better look at her, he said, "I am unfamiliar with the wildlife in this location. As such, I have not been able to hunt in a sustaining manner, and water has been a rare commodity." His voice had a light rasp. "I do need both." For another minute he was quiet, feeling the sting and burn of his cuts and scrapes as they were treated with the liquid called moonshine. "My name is Ska'arq," he added.

[align=center]ATTACK IN BOLD #6e65b5 - TAGS
[i]note - ska'arq does NOT have the necklace as shown in his pfp

[roan ;]

[align=center][div style="width: 45%; text-align: justify; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: times new roman;"]♡ — Roan found himself pacing and bouncing around a little awkwardly as Ska'arq was helped, mainly due to the fact that the boy knew he couldn't do anything to help as well at the moment. Despite the way that the pleasant smell of herbs made his heart flutter, and he found himself watching Rosemary work on the dragon's shoulder intently, this didn't mean that he had any knowledge yet. No, instead he would just watch, wondering if he could convince his Mama to help him with a book on medical knowledge, since he had attempted reading them before, and knew well that they had some pretty complex words in them. Perhaps he could get Aunt Rose to help him as well, since it was obvious from the scene in front of the kit that she knew what she was doing. Maybe he could get some firsthand experience, with her teaching him how to bandage things up and what herbs worked for which things... just the thought of it was enough to make the boy light up, so much so that he nearly missed Ska'arq's need for food.

He was jolted out of his thoughts by the dragon's soft request, as well as the other's admission of his name. Roan felt excitement flood him, mainly because this was something that he could do. He couldn't patch people up yet, but he did know where the food storage was, and he knew where water could be found. Jittery with newfound motivation, the boy chirped to Ska'arq, "It's nice to meet you, mister Ska'arq! I'm Roan. I know where to get food really fast! And water! I'll be back soon, promise." The boy spared one last glance toward his mother before he went charging off through the sand, his wings frantically flapping in order to give him precious seconds of height that would hopefully propel him forward more quickly. It was several minutes before Roan returned again, clenching the biggest piece of prey he could find in his jaws as he nosed along a bowl of water. It was an awkward arrangement, and he had sloshed a lot of water out of the bowl on his way back, but hopefully it would be enough for Ska'arq. Once he was near again, Roan dropped the prey in front of the other, his chest puffing up proudly as he sat back down.