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devland · (This post was last modified: 07-24-2020, 03:50 PM by devland.)

[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 60%; min-height: 8px; font-family: arial; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; padding: 25px"]Devland was tired.

Three miles? He fought the urge to audibly groan as he made his merry way down the railroad tracks. His eyes scanned the horizon, trained on the gate in the far distance. For not the first time today, he questioned his decision. Though in desperate need of shelter, food, and protection, he debated turning around. Surely, he told himself, there were other places he could reach in a shorter time.

But if nothing else, Devland was persistent. Though perhaps the better word was unrelenting. Once committed to a task, he stuck with it, almost obsessively - no matter how much complaining would follow. So, he gave an agitated huff and traipsed further down the line.

As he finally neared the gate, a satisfied smirk curved his lips upward. However, his smirk faded as quickly as it has settled on his face. A mildly pained look took its place. He halted, inspecting his right shoulder and giving it a painful roll. A nasty wound rested there, poorly covered by an incorrectly prepared poultice, and he knew whatever sort of infection he had was worsening. He internally flinched at the realization before shoving the knowledge to the furthest corner of his mind. He would deal with it later.

Continuing forward, it was not long before he reached the gate. Half-lidded eyes took in the scene before him and were instantly drawn to the bell. He supposed that was how he would announce himself. Awkwardly because of his injury, he crossed towards the bell. Before he could ring it, his attention was completely stolen by the bucket of snakes. Black mambas. His eyes lit up in delight.

Task momentarily forgotten, the young boy eased into a sitting position to watch the snakes. 'Maybe the long trek was worth something in the end,' he mused.

Grimm · 07-25-2020, 04:33 AM

[align=center][div style="font-family: arial; font-size: 11px; width: 60%; text-align: justify; line-height:120%"]Singular digit the tally of occasions they had been within close proximity to gates of stone, bore upon carved surface the grim mirth of false death, a single point of entry at times negated by the lapping tide. Among the dwindling few who drew a tentative breath laced with the salt of ocean the youth of ivory, a creature unfitting for such land, fair the skin beneath fine coat, but home had been crafted upon golden shores. Of late, however, abandoned their place among the populace, quiet the peace found in solitary walks.

Another conducted, the delicate patterning of broken illumination spilling across the silhouetted shade of crowning leaves where vision settled, slow and easy the tread taken. Yet dour the note of thought spun behind creased brow, the manner within which teeth worried along bleeding lower lip speaking louder than caged voice may ever be. Sharp the shift of cranium, broken the sigh that tumbled forth into a short life, annoyance present about its edges. Of no matter such ceaseless fretting, a mere circle they ran once more going over ground familiar and picked apart until nothing new may be found.

Brief the rise of chin, lilac depths grown puzzled as the light grew within strength a distance from their placement, the thinning of trees heralding their approach to the gates they knew poorly. Momentary did Eulia think upon finding a new path, working their slow way back to the beaches where the hushed lull of the ocean may quell their doubts, yet something pushed them forward. It may have been the recent influx of travellers that had sought refuge on their shores, or possibly some hint of the scent the stranger brought was caught upon a wayward breeze, of no consequence within that moment.

"Oh, uh hello…" uncertain the curl of a smile pulling back pale lips, brief the flicker of worry that crossed pale features, replaced by a faux confidence easily seen through. For a moment Eulia merely stood, gaze flicking between the stranger and the basket bearing the writhing reptiles he seemed focused upon, mouth opening and closing at irregular intervals. "Might I ask your name and business." Uneasily their wings opened and closed, brief little flicks of movement making apparent their nerves even as they looked to Devland with what they hoped was a stern expression.

PAOLA · (This post was last modified: 07-25-2020, 07:32 AM by PAOLA.)

Whatever tranquility the first crewmember possesses is absolutely lost on the second to arrive at the scene, heralded by two rapid steps growing in volume as they draw closer. A breath later, a gray and white streak bolts between the two strangers, followed by a black blur as Paola gives chase to the raccoon, screeching, "¡Hijo de puta! Come back here and I'll cut off your cojones, pendejo!"

They disappear into the distance, past the newcomer, but it only takes a second for them to turn again, the raccoon making a mad dash for its life towards the duo with Paola hot on its heels, screeching expletives with every breath. It's only when the raccoon is close enough to them that it drops the wooden figurine it had been keeping in its mouth before veering right, missing Devland.

Paola, however, is not as compact and agile when it comes to running. As soon as she realizes that the raccoon had switched directions, and she thinks it might have stuck its tongue out at her in mockery, it's too late, and she skids to an ungraceful stop, tripping ass-over-head, and barrelling into Devland in the process.

ooc. let the dumbassery begin

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devland · 07-25-2020, 02:18 PM

[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 60%; min-height: 8px; font-family: arial; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; padding: 25px"][ooc: im living for paola's chaos!]

It had not taken long for the locals to find him. Devland had expected that, yes, but he was admittedly disappointed he could no longer study the writhing mass of snakes. Successfully resisting the urge to sigh, he silently vowed to return to this spot later. Besides, he needed to make new additions to his field guides and -

Leaving his thoughts, half-lidded eyes scanned the first arrival. An amused smirk covered his dark features as he took in the visage of Eulia. They sure were nervous. He studied the other carefully, but the intensity that colored his eyes had faded. He admired the way they tried to conceal their nerves with false confidence, but if they wanted it to be believable, they might want to practice... Perhaps Devland was being too harsh.

His smirk gently fell away, replaced by a warm grin. "Greetings," he began, dipping his head, "and my apologies. I figure I'm not entirely following protocol, hm?" He motioned to the bell. "I take it I was supposed to use that to alert everyone of my arrival?" He gave a little laugh, looking away sheepishly. "I don't see many snakes like these beauties, so I did get a little distracted." He fixed his gaze on Eulia again. "Now, to actually answer your question! My -"

His name was lost in the chaos.

Though usually so smooth and talkative, his words caught in his throat as he watched the scene unfold. The initial sharp sound and movement caused him to reflexively start, and he winced in pain as his right shoulder protested. The screamed threat of the black feline reached him, and even though he was not well-versed in the language, he knew what she was saying was bad. He watched, dumbfounded, as the feline and raccoon rushed away only to return heartbeats later.

He made a move to dodge the thieving raccoon, but the creature had already planned on missing him. His eyes followed the thief, and in the split-second it took for him to face forward, it was too late. Quite literally tumbling towards him was the cursing black blur. A surprised groan escaped him as Paola crashed into him. Slightly emaciated and extremely exhausted from his trek, he was blown over. And as luck would have it, right shoulder absorbed the fall. Excruciating pain shot down the length of his forearm, and he gasped.

"Well," he muttered through gritted teeth once the dust had cleared, "you sure know how to make an entrance." He wasn't sure what else to say. Actually, that was a lie: several unsavory phrases jumped to the forefront of his mind. However, the fire that sparked to life stomped itself out. He found himself laughing in spite of it all. There was something about the whole situation that thoroughly amused the hell out of him. Once he settled, he added, "You'll have to teach me some of those words sometime."

From where he rested, completely tangled up in Paola, he returned his attention to Eulia. "My name's Devland Taji. Call my by either, whichever's easiest. I'm here to join this little group of yours. And I guess you," half-lidded eyes moved to Paola, "can't really turn me down since we're practically bound to each other now." He tried to laugh again but winced terribly as his shoulder pain reared its ugly head. He shifted uncomfortably but made no movement to untangle himself from the black feline. He was much too tired and much too interested in how everything had unfolded to just leave.

"So, what about the both of you? Names?" His speech wavered lightly as he began to ask his last questions, but by the time he finished, his voice was as cool and steady as ever. He even offered the pair a grin.

GEORGIA. · 07-25-2020, 11:13 PM

Georgia wasn't particularly interested in much these days - only what connected her to her father and the semblances she could gather of her mother and her sphere of control. One would think, though, that with such a creative and diverse group of individuals, the island would have more to offer her. And perhaps it wasn't the island, then; maybe Georgia just craved the satisfaction of a few specific activities.

However, something that did peak her interest was Paola's furious shrieking - in the moment that she sped directly past Georgia, the slightly younger Somali decided to pursue her, just in case she was chasing something relatively interesting. It was really just Gia chasing the yowling of Paola and getting smacked in the face by the rubbery underbrush of the flora, but maybe - maybe it would be worth it.

By the time she reached the gate, her breathing was heavier from the run, and all that left her throat was a breathless wheeze at the scene as she paused beside Eulia. "Jesus, Paola." She wheezed. "Solid greeting. Can I get you two a room in the tavern?" Peering around the mass of black fur, Georgia was able to separate black from brown and found the face of the stranger.

Tilting her chin up in greeting, she winked at him. "Hi Devland - I'm Georgia. Wicked scar." It didn't really occur to her that he was in pain. Usually in greeting strangers she was a little more discreet and blunt, possibly rude - but Devland had the good fortune of meeting her while she was in a happy mood.

PAOLA · (This post was last modified: 07-26-2020, 04:18 AM by PAOLA.)

She thinks her vision might have gone blurry from the impact. Lifting her head and giving it a fierce shake to clear the sand caught in her fur, Paola makes a move to stand up, only to find that her body seems to be tangled into something—or someone, evident by the voices permeating the ringing in her ears. She looks around before settling on the poor sap she'd bowled into, caught in a fit of laughter so infectious that it takes only a second for Paola to start laughing along with him.

When he starts to settle, so does she, letting her head fall back to the ground with a groan and not making any attempts to untangle herself or her long tail from the stranger. The run has absolutely conked her out, and she lays there, her sides rising and falling in exhausted breath, until she realizes that Gia has also arrived at the scene.

"A room in the tavern, Gia? Well, that surely beats sleeping in the sand like I've been doing," she answers amusedly, pretending not to understand the innuendo and offering the other a wicked grin. Turning back to the newcomer, Paola studies the tom for a few seconds but decides not to make an attempt to untangle herself from him—it seems he isn't too bothered, either, so she gets comfortable in whatever position they're in and paws at his ear playfully.

"Devland, eh? Mind if I call you Dev?" She hardly waits for an answer, barrelling on, "Now, why would I turn down such a pretty chap as yourself? I've decided you're my buddy now. You're stuck with me—quite literally!" She tugs at her long tail, which she thinks might be tangled around one of his legs, to prove her point.

At his quick, pained expression, Paola's eyes flash curiously (and perhaps even guiltily), her face heating up at the thought that their little tumble might have broken something. She sits back and watches for a moment, waiting for him to finish speaking, before leaning probably a little too close for comfort to observe him. "I'm Paola... hey, are you okay? I didn't, like, bust anything of yours, did I?"

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CALEM · (This post was last modified: 07-27-2020, 02:40 PM by CALEM.)

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Calem liked to think he was doing a fine job settling into this new place. It’d only been a day, but no one had drowned him yet — not even Geo — and there had been no warnings of impending doom in his runes that morning. It was cozy. There were a lot of attractive crewmates wandering around. The herb growth was stellar. He could definitely make a life here.

That said, he was bored. Moving his entire life to some random ass island required making new friends; he had grown up in a coven, for fucks sake, where the whole damn place was obligated to be his friend by default. He’d never even made a friend before. He usually just got attention when he wanted it. Right now he wanted attention, and so he set off to track down some of the other kids his age for some nice attention. And maybe some mischief.

He wasn’t disappointed. The scene he came upon was chaos, and after settling beside Geo (threat to his health he damned) he took in the new guy. Cute, that one. Very cute. They were all cute. Excellent. Catching the tail end of Geo’s taunting, he grinned and proclaimed, ”Oh, are we shacking up with the new guy? Nice. I want to be stuck with him, too.”

He winked at the newcomer just to make it clear that he was hitting on him, and then added, ”I’m Calem, by the way. Dev, was it? You can call me whatever you like, Devie boy.”

michael t. · 07-27-2020, 12:55 AM

LIKE THE MOON SAYS TO THE DARK — It seemed as though, as of late, The Typhoon was getting quite a few... interesting joiners. That wasn't to say that they hadn't seen some interesting faces in the past, but it seemed as though things were coming at them in a metaphorical wave as of late. Georgia, Paola, Calem, and now yet another person at the gate, although this one had opted not to ring the bell. In fact, Michael hadn't actually ended up approaching their usual entrance in response to the newcomer. Rather, he had been just outside of the main town, taking a little cat nap in the warm sand, when two figures went positively charging past him. He was forced to yank his head back quickly in order to avoid sand getting sprayed up and into his eyes, his ears flattening briefly down against his head. The figures were already gone, but the air carried the scent of Paola upon it, a fact that made the reaver sigh as he began to get up. He hadn't yet learned much of the younger crewmember, but from what he had seen thus far, she seemed to be a bit... air headed. He supposed he couldn't blame her, considering how young she was. After all, he had been pretty idiotic at that age. Still, he couldn't help but miss the silence that The Typhoon had been enjoying for some time there. Unfortunately, the increase in activity and noise was probably inevitable, considering Roxie's children were beginning to reach the age where they would be rambunctious and annoying teenagers as well.

Michael took long strides with his relatively short legs as he followed after Paola, a frown gracing the bobcat's muzzle as he identified the scent of raccoon as well. He supposed that had to be what she had been bolting after, although he did find himself wondering where it had come from. Islands weren't generally where one would find a raccoon, were they? Although he guessed that argument was pretty much moot, considering you didn't often found bobcats, tigers, and domestic felines mingling together on islands either. Fortunately, it wasn't too long until the thief found himself at the bell, his mismatched blue eyes lighting up with curiosity when he spotted the newcomer. Unfortunately, he didn't arrive in time to stop Paola from crashing directly into the newcomer. Michael winced at the loud commotion that came from their two bodies colliding, preemptively stepping back with a sigh. It was even worse when he noticed the blood on the air, and spotted the wound that graced Devland's shoulder. The other seemed relatively calm and collected about the whole thing, particularly after being crashed into, but even he wasn't able to hide the flash of pain across his face. That would be something that they would have to deal with. Well... not him, exactly. But Roan. Roan would be able to deal with it.

Looking over the group that was present, Michael was once again acutely aware of the fact that, not only was he the only person with any authority present, but he was also the only true adult. For a fugitive so adverse to responsibility, it seemed as though lately he was being shoved into the spotlight far too often. It wasn't so bad, since most joiners sort of just... inserted themselves into the group regardless of approval – not that they wouldn't give it, of course – which meant that he wasn't actually strictly needed. However, he still felt the need to speak up, sighing and clearing his throat from his position in the back of the group. Stepping forward a bit, he spoke in a slightly exasperated tone, "Hello there... Devland, was it? It's nice to meet you, and to welcome you into The Typhoon. My name's Michael Townley, and I'm a reaver here. So if you have any problems, you can come see me, or one of the other high positions..." He trailed off for a moment, before gesturing at the deep and painful looking scratch in the other's shoulder, "You should... probably get that looked at. It doesn't look like it's doing so hot. You can get looked at here by our sage, Roan. Don't worry, he's great at what he does. I can take you to him, if you want." He'd say he'd go and get Roan himself, but he honestly wasn't sure where exactly the kid was, and it was easier to just take Devland to the temple. — WE WILL NEVER BE APART

devland · 07-27-2020, 12:28 PM

[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 60%; min-height: 8px; font-family: arial; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; padding: 25px"]Once again, he found his attention stolen. He hated how difficult it was to concentrate on something. Was it because he was tired? Was it the pain from his shoulder? Hell, he thought, maybe it was because he had been more or less ran over by Paola. Regardless, he found his eyes resting on Georgia.

Her question forced a smirk on to his features. Oh, she had jokes! He could admire that. He opened his mouth to answer, but Paola beat him to the punch. Though her answer was a little different than what his might have been, he chuckled anyway. As Paola bat at his ear, a curious look flashed across his face for a split-second. Even though the pair were a tangled mess, neither making the executive decision to untangle themselves, he wondered how she could be so... relaxed. Comfortable. Devland, for as outwardly calm and open as he was, was inwardly a bundle of confusion and nerves. Though he was much better at hiding things than Eulia had been when they approached.

Approaching steps. Another one? Devland supposed that made sense - he had heard that this was a large group. It seemed the new guy had heard Georgia's, er, fun question, and unlike Paola, dove head-first into the idea. Again, Devland found himself painted with a smirk. "Stuck with me? You hardly know me," he replied, more question-like than as a statement. It seemed Paola wasn't the only one who was extremely open to new people.

It was Paola's voice that reached him next. When she inquired about a nickname, he found himself hesitating. He was not... fond of nicknames to say the least. He preferred his real name, but it seemed Paola was steamrolling on anyway. In that moment, he decided not to correct her. Maybe her calling him 'Dev' wouldn't be completely terrible. The way the other pulled at him dragged him from his thoughts. "Sure, Dev's fine," he half-lied, continuing, "and -" He paused. 'Buddy.' The string of words that accompanied that caught in his ears. He smiled as the realization all but smacked him on the forehead. "Yeah, sure, I'd like that."

Now, the other male was speaking again, tossing Devland a wink while he was at it. Had the day not transpired in the way that it had, Devland might have found his face flushed at the obvious flirt, but he was a little too tired for that now. "Calem." He nodded, committing the name to memory. It seemed Calem was fond of nicknames too... He didn't necessarily mind it from Calem either. "Devland, Dev, Taji. Whatever," he answered, nodding again to confirm that nickname was - technically - him. "Hm, it's not so much as what I'd like to call you, but when. Does whatever also transfer to whenever?" He grinned at the other.

Georgia introduced herself and remarked about his wound. The latter caused his flirtatious grin to drip into something much more sheepish. "Well, I think 'scar' technically means it's healed, right?" Had he not run away from home, he was sure it would be a scar by now. However, his inexperience with healing ensured that didn't happen. Instead of focusing on his mistakes, he worked on remembering Georgia's name. "Though I guess you're right, Georgia. It probably will look pretty cool once it's actually healed. Too bad though," he sighed, a bit dramatically, "I really liked how my shoulder looked before the scar."

As Paola moved in close, Devland found himself instinctively pulling back. All tangled up like they were, he found that virtually impossible. Instead, he helplessly watched as Paola inspected him. From this close, it was easy to see she was genuinely concerned. He felt something catch in his chest, but he pushed that strange feeling away, focusing on her words instead. "I'm fine, Paola," he assured. He angled his head just a bit to try and obstruct everyone's view of his wound. "You get no credit for this one. It was a simple disagreement from a while ago, nothing major." Another lie. "Thing's not healing properly though, and it gives me fits all the time." He chose not to mention he didn't understand herbs, but if anyone looked closely at the poultice he had made, they could guess just as much.

Devland had been too distracted to notice Michael. Half-lidded eyes shifted to take in the last arrival. Everyone who had shown up so far had been about his age, but Michael was older. The poor guy looked a little frustrated, and Devland almost laughed at that. He didn't doubt it was difficult to keep up with this wild bunch. "Thanks for having me, Michael," he answered, dipping his head as much as he could while Paola was still wrapped around him. So, Michael was a Reaver? Devland wondered what that job entailed, but from context clues, he gathered it was pretty important. "And thank you for the offer, I'll be sure to remember that."

Michael's next words caused him to shrink back minutely. Devland was fully aware of how bad his injury was, but he wasn't totally keen on others acknowledging that fact. He supposed he hadn't been successful in hiding his pain though. And, well, how the hell could he hide the terrible-looking wound anyway? He resigned himself to accepting Michael's words as truth. "You're... right," he murmured. The thought of having a complete stranger heal him was uncomfortable, but he knew better than to turn it down. "I wouldn't mind an escort to see Roan. I'd probably end up lost otherwise." That thought alone shook him more than the mystery healer.

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