IT'S AN INCREDIBLE MESS ☆ revival

[michael t.]

ALL I FOUND THE SPACE BETWEEN THE SPACES
STANDING IN THE NOTHING, AND TIME RECLAIMS YOU

Dying fucking sucked. Especially when the way you died was having your guts ripped put of you.

Honestly, after what Sojourn had done to him, Michael had expected... nothingness. He was dead, after all. That meant... nothing. No more. Nada. He was gone, and while that was sad, at least he had died doing something meaningful. That was good enough for him, and he figured he could enjoy the nothingness. Unfortunately, that wasn't what happened. Instead, he just woke up in an unfamiliar place.

It was a forest, with a gleaming star of skies high up above, and a rather lanky looking serval lazing about nearby. Looking around in confusion, the – now rather ghostly – bobcat questioned aloud, "Where the fuck am I?" The serval merely seemed to shift a bit at that, jaws stretching in a large yawn before they muttered, "What does it look like? You're in the afterlife, dumbass." Michael frowned at the insult, looking once more around the lush landscape. There was even a beach in the distance, not unlike the one that The Typhoon had. After a moment, the thief questioned once more, "So... I guess this is my permanent residence now, huh?" He expected a solemn nod, or maybe a grim joke at his expense, but the starry serval just cackled, shaking their head, "Hell no, not yet there, chubby. It's not your time to go just yet. I know it's disappointing – valiant death and all that shit – but it's the truth. We aren't ready for you. So... shoo." Their words were so simple. Their straightforward.

Michael had never felt more confused in his life.

He blinked rapidly a couple of times before he said, a grumble leaving him, "What... what the fuck are you saying? That I can just go? How the hell does that work? I don't even know how to get out of here, not to mention the fact that my body is dead! You're really not being he–" He was cut off then, by the spectral serval doing nothing more than flicking a paw in his direction. And all of a sudden...

He was falling.

Plummeting, really. At least, that's what it felt like. And then he came to an abrupt stop, when he slammed directly into a new body. He wasn't sure what the body was to begin with. Maybe a rabbit? Something small, anyways. But it didn't take long before his shapeshifting kicked in, and the body slowly grew form a tiny prey animal into his lanky melanistic coyote form, bright blue eyes and bushy tail and all. It wasn't his bobcat form, but... that was to be expected, considering what had happened to it. He wouldn't be surprised if he was never able to shift into a form similar to that again, although he hoped that wouldn't be the case.

This really wasn't the time to be worrying about that, though. Instead, he had to worry about getting home. As he glanced around him, he found his surroundings both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. He was fairly sure he was in the uncharted territories, meaning he'd have to do a bit of walking before he got back to The Typhoon. A heavy sigh left him at the realization, but he supposed he couldn't complain too much – he was at least alive, after all. So, after taking in a deep breath, he turned and headed off in the direction of The Typhoon once more.

---

It was a few hours before Michael finally reached the gate of The Typhoon again, although it was probably faster than it would have been with his bobcat form's shorter legs. Taking a deep breath, the dealer leaned up to shove his weight against the bell, listening as it sang out a greeting to the entirety of The Typhoon's territory. His voice was slightly hoars – and a bit higher-pitched thanks to his coyote body being biologically female – as he called out, "Hello? Guys? It's Michael! I'm back! Somehow..." He really didn't have a good explanation for it either, but he couldn't say he was ungrateful. Being alive once more meant that he could see his sister, and best friend, and fellow Typhooners and niceces and nephews once more. In all honesty, it made his heart sing.

Would he have accepted dying? Yes. Was he more happy to be alive once more? God, yes.

— Reggan

[harland m.]

[align=center][div style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 8pt; max-width: 65%; text-align: justify; line-height:120%"]Did he love the once thief, a man that came from dark alleys redeemed by his own ambition, self made and built by community. Possibly more apt was to question his capability, might his heart be open to such, allowed the walls to fall away and permit an entrance no other had been allowed. To either the answer vague and disingenuous, beyond him any means to be assured in the given response. No fault lay on the side of other, with this man that bore an easy and inviting charm, suited to each scenario presented for he understood himself, accepted it even as it was moulded on a moment by moment basis.

He was everything Harland found escaped him, all he longed for and yet was too brittle to welcome, accepted his designation. Why was it, when sole focus became the other, that dark temptation that gently whispered of all he was not, the idea seemed tangible. Change based in choice, in accepting nothing may be stagnant.

If questioned on how he felt about Michael, upon his capability to allow the other in, accept the attraction he wrapped in the crimson ribbon of supposed affection, easier the admittance he hoped he might. One day, needed only the courage to try, that vain hope may culminate in the joy of imagined endings that neatly contained all that was desired.

That day, distant and hazey, never allowed to arrive.

Few the days that had passed, or it may have reached a week, further extending as consciousness rose and dipped, never assured to linger for more than a handful of seconds. Necessary, rest assured, too many those packed into the briefly vacant temple. Still annoyance flourished, filled the cracks between sluggish thought, thick and clumsy tongue dry. Slow the motion, dragging against lips similar, unfocused golden depths incapable of registering his surroundings. Known his location even as his pulse spiked, confusion parting about the sharp press of anxiety, too long kept, among others he could not face.

His body wished to languish. Against it, mind rebelling, desired that which was forbidden. Together teeth drawn, lips taunt, incremental his rise. Too long the minutes drawn out, hours made of those gathered seconds, breath escaping in a shuddering rush. Triumph could not be tarnished even as his body trembled, pleased with progress that proved minute. Only the beginning, paw sliding across the stone. Again. Repeated over and over, breaks staggered between, ever closer the golden spill, light once shied from and now wanted, a desire deep and without end.

Sweet the first touch, the gentle expansion of light grazing toes, working up, shuttered eyes as head rose. For a moment he indulged, allowed himself this. He would return, would not put upon Roan further work when it was unnecessary. Thoughts did not match with reality, however, eyes opening, ears twitching forth, the soothing lull of the wind and the bird song it carried beckoning. A short walk, enough to loosen muscle that felt unused for an extended period, no harm may come of it.

Stone replaced by soil, his mind roving over new memories, fresh and jarring. Nose wrinkled, teeth shifting, together drawn in a slight click. Still could he smell it, how copper painted the air, a salten tang that refused to be overpowered, voices coalescing, overcut by screams. A whine bypassed teeth, slipped through without notice, fine strands standing in end along his spine. What little of it that was uncovered at least. Extensive the damage, fortune kind for spine had not been impacted, still difficult grown the task of walking, taken for granted for he needed never worry over it. Now it an agony, his back legs beyond his control at times, nerves protesting motion until the muscle seized.

Time and treatment, the proper rest the overworked Soothsayer ascribed needed to minimise any permanent damage. He could not accept it, incapable of prolonged inactivity, enough indulged in during the past month. And look where it had gotten him.

Against the onslaught he pressed forth, accepted the pain, halted at times to inspect what he was capable of, poor the positioning of heavy wrapping. Weathered any lecture, or harsher means to convey his reproach at dissuaded activity, if it may dispel the weight lodged in his throat. Known not the path he followed, allowed simply to wander, destination of no import when designed it to be the place of departure. Ever fluid plans, subject to change upon a whim, the toll that rang forth with a brassy note enough incentive.

Over shoulder vision turned, too many possibilities. Idiotic the notion that any seeking retribution would be brazen to such a degree, still was it there, held a central point in his thoughts as gaze turned once more. The volume made evident close was his proximity to the gate, and thus the one who had acted as its ringer. Harshly he swallowed, caught on a crossroad. Too far had he come to turn back, the miniscule chance a counter had been staged when still were they tending either wounded a suitable driving force.

Confusion all that may be found in the sweep, shallow inspect, a first impression. Unassuming the figure adorned in ebony, slight yet angular, loose posture making evident known what was coming either through experience or second hand knowledge. Mouth opened, words forming. Swallowed they, almost his tongue as well, silence broken as supposed stranger out forth the sought information before the request may be voiced.

Michael.

The lost, gone before all had broken out, hell awaiting the cracks to connect. The interloper, acting upon skill that had elevated him above all else, singled out for it. The dead, his abdomen parted, a feast for crows made. The one that had taken his heart against his own judgement.

"Mich…" Voice trailed off, broken, disjointed name barbs digging into his tongue, that small fragment enough. Closer he stepped, tentative, eyes roving over. Not his place. He bore no connection, was not a member of the family he had found, an integral part of, an acquaintance at best if he were being truthful. The fault his own for this, evaded anything that may reveal the cards tightly pressed to his chest. Best unknown, ties loose, their severe all the easier for it.

Outward reaching, hesitant for a moment. Real, too much so, contact sought. Lost. He had lost him. False this, never deserved his company, never his to claim. Still Harland laid one, allowed impulse a moment to take hold. Distance too grand for how short it was, balance shifting, back crying in renewed agony, still paws reached and sought anchor about the neck of the coyote. Into his space leaning, lips trying to meet, a harsh press, more than words might express in a gesture so simple.

Even without the aid of realising what he had done back did the bombay draw, mouth moving in silent reasoning, explanation that may never come. Understood such should not have occurred, hasty in relief, averted his vision, anything better than witnessing the response.

[Simon F.M.]

｢  H U R R Y  U P !  T H E  S U N  I S  G O I N G  D O W N !  ｣

ENGAGED
POLAR BEAR
OFFICER
TYPHOON
BIOGRAPHY

"Michael Townley, you mother fucker," snarled the polar bear, distantly aware of her other brother lingering around. Her lumbering, limping steps pulled her forward, narrowed eyes pinpointed on the coyote and the coyote alone. Rage masked her face, suppressing the relief, the thanking that her pleads had been met. Hot tears already streaked down her face as she moved at a maddening pace, ignoring the ever-persisting exhaustion, the desperation to know if it was truly him. She may not be able to see him but that, that had been his voice, true as day. Despite the blurriness of it all, she finally pinpointed that it was true, that it was what she hoped.

"You're lucky I don't rip your fucking head off, Townley," but oh, there was not a trace of anger, no rage truly permeating her tone. Only endless bundles of relief, of fear, of promises that she would never allow him to go so swiftly from her reach again. And then, and then, in a movement that would through of her movements, causing her to falter and stop, was another figure coming into her tunneled vision, an action that threw off everything. Her blurry eyes fell on who she finally could see was Harland, as if his scent wasn't one she knew as nearly as well as her own. "Heh?" she rasped in confusion, rapidly looking between the two. When the fuck had that become a thing and why hadn't anybody told her? That would be a conversation they were going to have later but, for now...

"Har, mind stepping back so I can get my turn?" she would say in a teasing tone as if she could pretend the words weren't cracked by the tears on her muzzle, as if relief didn't pour from her every word. She wouldn't give him a choice, body shrinking down into something more manageable as she pushed past, nudging aside, wiggling her way in to pull Michael close, using a bone-crushing strength as warm tears wet their fur. "Pull a fucking stunt again and I'll kill you myself, homme insensé.

[ROXANNE R.]

[ASVINI]

[align=center]

DELDRACH AKAODON

[div style="max-width: 600px; height: 24px; background: #2F1313; padding: 5px; line-height: 15px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 12px; color: #673F3F;"][align=center] — [b]JAGLIONESS - TYPHOON - MEMBER - TAGS —

Deldrach's ears twitched. She hadn't heard Michael, but even if she didn't, Michael getting completely torn apart by Diya and Roxanne alike was enough to get her attention. Deldrach pushed to her paws, making her way over. And while she had completely missed the display by Harland, many thanks to Roxanne for that, she still came to a sitting position. She wasn't family, but she was an older friend, acquaintance, whatever Michael wanted to call their miniscule relationship. Her ears twitched and rotated as she listened, quite impressed by Roxanne's display.

After the embrace had been.. well. Fully initiated did Deldrach bother to speak, her voice raising gently to be heard over the muffling of the lesbians together. "Welcome back, Michael. Let me know if you need anything." There would be no emotional tediousness from the former heir, her tail gently swaying behind her. She was glad that Michael was back and felt thoroughly relieved he was here, of course, but there were more important people that should see him.

[VAYNE CIPHER-VANTAS.]

[glow=white,1,400]LIKE WE FORGET WHO WE CAN TRUST ! — ｡+ﾟ.[/glow]

The whole reason Michael had done his stunt in the first place was because of her. Vayne had been idiotic enough to be friendly to a complete stranger and trust that their food wasn't poisoned, and gotten herself captured. She should have fought back when she came to, when she had the chance, but by the time the poison completely wore off, Vayne was in the Coalition's dungeons. She blamed herself for Michael's death, once she heard of it, and it felt awful. She didn't even get the chance to say goodbye, nor did anyone else in Michael's family.

Vayne was tired. Perhaps not as exhausted as her crewmates, but tired nonetheless. However hearing Diya and Roxanne's relieved-excited shouts, it woke her up and she came running towards where everyone was gathered and tried to launch herself at her adoptive uncle, tears streaming down her face. "Michael!" She cried. "I'm so sorry..."[glow=COLOR,1,400] ━ ✧*:･ﾟ[/glow]

[daniel]

[align=center]

"THE GLADIATOR" — CHAMPION OF WAR

”Oooh, you’re in trouble now-“ A joke of course, a feeble attempt to keep tension low and prevent himself from diving headfirst into an emotional outburst, the tearful kind. He wasn’t like Roxanne or even Diya to an extent, obviously, there would be no anger from Danny today over the stunt Michael pulled. And even if he could manage it, he owed the man a lot just for trying. Didn’t help his guilty conscious, admittedly, but that was on him there.

Not much for the touchy feely type of reunion either, Danny’s arrival was rather....anticlimactic compared to the many others, rivaled maybe by only Harland in terms of lack of volume, at least any volume levels of note. And speaking of, he was not in the least bit prepared for the attempt made at finally getting some long awaited closure over the feelings that had been buried beneath the surface, perhaps not so subtly.

However, it was not his place to say anything, his minor twinge of jealousy at Harland being able to even think of pulling such a move was his own and his alone, no one else would get to know. But with that, and the family members that crowded in a much deserved circle to tell Michael how terrible his idea had been, there was nothing left of substance to offer, and Danny had no place making any further contributions to the conversation. He wasn’t family and he wasn’t....well, Harland. He was just a kid who happened to know the man, no significant importance to make him showing up hold any weight other than perhaps the relief of the Dealer knowing his mission wasn’t in vain. ”B-But, uh....you shouldn’t have...shouldn’t have done that. She really m-messed you up, I-” Was that it? That was it. Danny rubbed his eyes when he felt them well up, but he didn’t think he really deserved to cry now. But man, it was difficult not to. He clamped his jaw shut as to not make any more pathetic attempts at talking, just focusing on trying to rub the tears away that he didn’t feel entitled to, or maybe he just wanted to be tough in front of Michael. The man who died to get him home.

— if i find some way out then i will stay, with heart split two ways down

[michael t.]

ALL I FOUND THE SPACE BETWEEN THE SPACES
STANDING IN THE NOTHING, AND TIME RECLAIMS YOU

Honestly, he probably should've expected such a... loud reaction from some members of The Typhoon. Even with exhaustion dragging at his limbs as he stood at the border, the coyote had known he wasn't getting to rest without a whole lot of scolding. The first to arrive, though, was Harland, and the bombay didn't bring with him any scolding words to speak of. The dealer wouldn't be able to deny how his gaze softened slightly as Har came into view, a feeling of warmth filling his chest at being able to see the other again. He had known that his feelings for Harland were... complicated. He cared for the other greatly despite their relatively brief friendship, and even though he was scared to be hurt again, he didn't want to run away from it all, either.

When he had died in the Coalition's camp, with his guts yanked out and his blood spilling onto the cold earth... Harland had been one of the many faces that flashed through his mind. Faces that he missed, that he loved, and that he wished he could've spent more time with. He had figured in that moment that the end had come for him, and he had only hoped then that all of them would be able to forgive him for rushing in.

He was back now, though, which meant he didn't have to just hope. He could be with them all again, and he had no intention of being foolhardy and rushing into enemy territory again. With this in mind, the canine had stepped forward, many unsaid words lingering on his tongue as he tried to figure out how to greet Harland. What were you supposed to say to someone you thought you could love, who you had also thought you'd never see again? It was a complicated question, and the thief's mind was struggling to come up with an answer. He didn't need to worry for much longer, though, as Harland came rushing forward, and Michael suddenly felt paws wrapping around his neck. A soft yelp left him as he was pulled downwards, although it was swiftly silenced as Har's muzzle met his own, and he found his face set ablaze beneath his dark pelt. Even as he felt vaguely dizzy from the rush of his heart speeding up, he made no move to pull away from the other's grip, and he had a dopey grin on his face when Harland pulled away.

The embarrassment on Harland's face was unmistakable in that moment, not to mention the frazzled worry his body language seemed to carry with it. Michael was swift to correct this, his voice still a bit rough and hoarse as he laughed, "Hey Har... that's a pretty nice way to come back to life." As if to assure the other that he was alright, the dealer stepped forward to press his forehead gently against Harland's, a small gesture that he returned the sentiment. They could talk more about things later, when he felt less like his now lanky legs were about to collapse beneath him.

Of course, rest wasn't the only other thing that Michael had to worry about at the moment. It wasn't long before Diya came rumbling over, the polar bear understandably pissed at what he had done. Even if her words lacked any true rage, the coyote's ears still flicked back in a sheepish and apologetic way. He muttered to her, another little laugh leaving him – weaker this time, though, "Trust me, I have absolutely no intentions of making that a repeat performance..." It made him feel like his pelt was crawling with ants whenever he tried to think back to what had happened. Sojourn looming over him with a crazed look in her eyes, his blood staining the dirt, his guts... it was all a lot, and he found himself briefly closing his eyes to shake it all away. The bad memories were gone with the wind as Diya stepped forth, pulling him into a hug that he gladly returned. He was silently relieved she had shifted from her polar bear form, knowing she really could snap him in half easily in said form.

As for he and Harland... well, he'd have to try and explain that later. At least, once he knew what was going on as well. He knew there was still a dopey grin resting on his dark muzzle, and he had no intention of forcing it away anytime soon.

The next to arrive was Roxie, in her usual loud and attention-grabbing fashion. Although this time, said volume was motivated by anger rather than her usual antics. His gaze softened as he saw the tears stinging her eyes, and he quickly mumbled, "Hey... yeah. That was really stupid of me. Like... mind-numbingly stupid of me. I'm sorry." His tone was genuine, the canine very easily understanding the rage that had been radiating off the captain in waves, even if he hadn't entirely understood her words. As she joined the hug, he smiled and pressed his nose gently between her horns, moving to do the same with Diya. He muttered to the both of them, feeling his own voice shake as he did so, "Alright, alright... no more tears, okay? You guys are gonna make me cry too, and then I'll be whining about it for weeks." God, he really did love them both so much. Spending a bunch of time without them up in the afterlife would've fucking sucked – even if he wouldn't have wanted either of them joining him anytime soon.

The next to approach was another face that Michael was glad to see, and one that didn't respond with the same bombastic emotions as everyone else. Still, Deldrach's presence caused the dealer's heart to warm, a smile gracing his muzzle. In the relatively brief time he had known her, he had definitely come to consider Del a friend. His tone was warmly teasing as he spoke to her, tail swaying behind him, "What, no hug?" He then followed it up, shaking his head from side to side as he barked, "Thanks, Deldrach. It's good to see you're alright." He had seen her out on the Coalition battlefield that day, and much like with everyone else, he had been praying for her safety. Of course, he didn't know of the rage she had gone into following his death, and he probably would've chided her for doing something so risky if he had known – even if that would be hypocritical considering what he had just come back from.

The last two to arrive... well, just seeing them caused relief to flood through Michael's entire body, a soft laugh leaving him. Even as he chuckled, he could feel tears stinging his gaze, delighted that his plan had amounted to something. He was so glad both Danny and Vayne seemed to be okay, even with all that they had been through.

He let out a grunt as Vayne came rushing over into the group hug, tail wagging as he nuzzled her on the head gently. He spoke softly to his niece, shaking his head from side to side, "Hey... don't apologize to me, alright? What I did may have been really, really stupid, but if it helped even a little bit to get you guys home... I'm glad. I'm so glad you're safe, Vayne." He was so glad they were all safe. He felt like his heart was going to burst forth from his chest, even as he could feel himself also about ready to pass out. The trip back to The Typhoon had been long, and with everything that he had gone through... he couldn't wait to curl up in his bed and just sleep. For how long? He wasn't quite sure, but he was sure he wouldn't be allowed to be cooped up inside for too long until others dragged him out for drinks to celebrate him being alive.

Before any of that, though... there was one last person he needed to address. The words that left Danny were a bit of a mess, but that was understandable. The kid had been through a lot, and just as with Vayne, he didn't want the other trying to say he hadn't been worth it. So, with a little snort, Michael just reached out to lightly pat Danny on the head, muttering in response to his stuttering words, "I'm pretty sure I've already had as many lectures as I need for a lifetime, kid. I'm just glad to see that you're alright." He then said, blue gaze glittering with emotional mirth as he smiled at the other canine, "Sides, I said I was proud of you, didn't I? There was no way I was gonna just leave you there... you're gonna be great, Danny." And he genuinely did mean that. The other had a great deal of potential, even if be was a bit of a crybaby.

— Reggan