LIFE'S A BEACH! ⇹ joiner

[SNARKY]

BELIEVE ME, DARLING, THE STARS
WERE MADE FOR FALLING —  tags

The ocean wave's lifted with ease, only following the patterns it had for years. This moment was just slightly different from any other, though not so uncommon to be considered rare. The waves lifted, carried, prone form, spitting it out onto the beach's sand. Pale fur blending neatly with the sand, thick clumps of fur standing in spikes, shaped by the salty waters. 

Slow to stir was the figure, groans leaving them as they came back into consciousness. "Hhhng." The hybrid groaned, paws flexing as he stretched. Slowly his eyes blinked open, contrasting orange slitted iris's moving slowly to take in the sight of huts lining the beaches. He let out another groan, paw lifting to rub thudding head. Paws shift underneath his body as he struggles to stand, whining as he shook. He collapses with a grunt, breathing deeply as he lays stretched out on his side. Eyes flutter closed once more, blocking out the light that bore into his eyes.

Wood washed ashore around him, plank pressing up against his flank as shivers rippled through his muscles. Fragments of a ship that once sailed high upon the waves now laid in fragments across the beach. Beside it, a tattered piece of cloth in a dark auburn, white patches that once formed a symbol, now marred by holes. The shark finned feline lifted his head tiredly, scanning the wreckage around him. He let out a mournful cry, attempting once more to struggle onto shaling legs. Failing that, he collapsed once more into the sand, outstretched paw dragging shredded flag towards his chest, muzzle burying into tattered cloth. There he laid, mourning a life and crew he once knew.

now that existence is on the wake let's see what we can make

— Reggan

[michael t.]

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

A cry of sadness from the beach was never something that one wanted to be greeted with first thing in the morning. It certainly wasn't what Michael wanted to deal with first thing in the morning, considering his own overwhelming grief as of late. However, he had a duty as both a dealer and a member of The Typhoon to see what was going on, and he did take that seriously. After taking a deep breath to brace himself for whatever he might've had to face that particular day, the bobcat then emerged from his hut, the front door slowly opening and closing silently as he slipped out. His dark paws sunk down into the warm sand, his mismatched gaze scanning over the shore and freezing at the state of it. Various bits and pieces of wreckage were scattered all around, not to mention the figure that lingered in the middle of it all, curled up and clearly devastated. For a moment, Michael was too shocked to move, not used to such a situation.

However, the thief was quick to regain his bearings, shaking his head briefly from side to side before he moved over the sand, approaching the newcomer. He hated to interrupt the other's clear moment of sadness, but... he needed to see who he was, and whether he was injured. So, warily, Michael stretched out a paw to prod gently at Snarky's shoulder, a frown on his muzzle as he spoke, "Ah... hey there. Sorry to interrupt all of... this..." He couldn't help glancing around at the beach around them once more, eyes lingering on certain bits of destroyed ship before returning to the hybrid's prone form. The other obviously reminded him of Seabound, just... less bright. More sharp. Clearing his throat, he then continued, "But... could you tell me who you are, and whether you're injured? You've washed up on the shores of The Typhoon, and you look pretty beat up, so... we're got a medic that can help you, if you want." He didn't see why the hell the other would reject such help, but some people outright rejected help in general, far too stubborn for their own good.

— Reggan

[Keona.]

[table][tr][td]

keona sibéal ní faoláin.
the typhoon.
the blind dealer.
information.

[/td][td]

[div style="max-width: 360px; font-family: palatino; color: #2a4971; text-align: left; padding-top: 8px; padding-left: 10px; letter-spacing: 2px; font-size: 13px;"]Idir brí is idir muir, Tá mé i dtiúin

The same ocean carried Keona to shore once.  Many, many moons ago.  Years.  Far gentler that day.  Though a sadness had still lingered.  The tiny wildcat still held some vague memories.  The crew her father led.  The crew they left behind for something more stable.  More land-based, but still... Close to the sea.  A new crew.

She had little left but the imprints.  Singing voices.  Laughter.  She was too young.  Now, they were off.  Still sailing no doubt.  Living free.  A band of light-hearted faerie pirates.  Led by a new captain.  She hoped nothing had happened to them, knew her father worried sometimes, but... How would they ever know?

The cry reached the petite dealer about the same moment she nearly stumbled over some of the wreckage.  Ears perking in alarm.  Followed by Michael's voice.  Addressing the source.  Twitching her ears, the tiny wildcat made her way over very carefully, pale sea-green hues sharp.

"You'll be safe here," she added softly, nodding as Michael spoke.  "And can rest in the tavern, if you need to."

[/td][/tr][/table]

© MADI

[SNARKY]

BELIEVE ME, DARLING, THE STARS
WERE MADE FOR FALLING —  tags

Snarky was deaf to approaching pawsteps, sudden contact starteling him out of his stupor. He gave a hiss as he shifted away, orange eyes snapping open as his head swung to look at the black bobcat. Slitted pupils took in the not one, but two felines gathered around him. He took in their appearances, the large collection of blinded eyes. One half, the other fully, both with the potential to miss something. He quickly sniffled, pulling tattered flag against his chest as he rolled onto stomach. He winced as he did so, feeling absolutely bruised ribs jostle as he did so.

Mournful expression was tapped down, replaced with a skewed impression of a smirk. Marred by pain, he allowed his eyes to rapidly dash between the two that approached. Sharp teeth were bared in smile met with a grimace, an attempt to seem friendly. "Pleased to ah, meecha! I am Snarky, pirate of tha seas!" he crows, struggling once more to stand on weary legs. He managed for a moment before faltering, falling now into a sitting position as he surveyed the wreckage around him. Tattered ears pinned against his skull as he slouched, any false bravado quickly fleeing.

He would nod slowly, ears still pinned, as he turned his head to face the duo. He would listen truly to their words, their offers of kindness, and a place of rest. He nodded once more, sighing softly. "Ah, ah thank ah would 'preciate that...", he would say softly, not one to reject kindness or free resources. A medic? That would be appreciated greatly if his inability to stand for more than a minute was anything to go by. Nothing felt broken, just exhaustion worn and bruised. Nonetheless, something to numb the pain would be appreciated. "What, ah, what are ya names?", he asked, not wishing to be rude to the duo who so clearly offered him help.

now that existence is on the wake let's see what we can make

— Reggan

[Keona.]

[table][tr][td]

keona sibéal ní faoláin.
the typhoon.
the blind dealer.
information.

[/td][td]

[div style="max-width: 360px; font-family: palatino; color: #2a4971; text-align: left; padding-top: 8px; padding-left: 10px; letter-spacing: 2px; font-size: 13px;"]Idir brí is idir muir, Tá mé i dtiúin

Blind from birth with sharp ears, the fae didn't entirely miss the discreet rustle of cloth.  Made no show of curiousity or suspicion.  It wasn't her buisness.  Seemed like he crashed after all.  She didn't know what all lie in the wreckage.  Sentiment and the like.

Keona flicked her tail.  Snarky.  Odd name.  But he was a pirate.  Like them.  Nothing was really odd with pirates.  "You'll fit in then.  Typhoon's a crew of pirates." 

"'m Keona.  Me 'an Michael are dealers here," she explained, tilting her head lightly in Michael's direction.  "You can talk to us if you need anythin'.  Aside from mending; you'll want my brother."

[/td][/tr][/table]

© MADI

[michael t.]

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

Honestly, it would've been difficult for Michael not to notice, even briefly, that the other was acting odd. Or at least, holding something back from both himself and Keona. After all, the thief considered himself to be a master of hiding his problems away, and he could see all the telltale signs. The shifting eyes, the quick movements... still, he wouldn't press the matter too much. After all, even under the best of circumstances, the dealer was anything but a trained therapist. That wasn't even mentioning that nowadays was hardly anything close to the best of circumstances for him. So, instead of asking any unneeded questions, Michael just allowed Snarky to hide his tattered flag. Besides, it didn't seem to be long before the hybrid's shoulders sunk, the male evidently having difficulty keeping the facade up for very long.

At Snarky's question, the bobcat was quick to open his muzzle, a small smile on his face as he began to introduce himself. However, he evidently wasn't fast enough, considering Keona slipped his name and rank in without a care in the world. He temporarily sat still for a moment, caught off guard, before he spoke once again, "Well... Keona threw me off my rhythm a bit, but... yeah, like she said, my name is Michael. Michael Townley-Phillips..." He trailed off momentarily, his mismatched gaze darkening as he spoke his hyphenated last name. The Phillips felt sour on his tongue, and he was quick to continue on, "...A-And I'm a dealer. Bit of an important rank, but you can learn more about that all later. For now... I'll just go get her brother, alright? You don't seem like you can get very far..." The male was then quick to turn and head off in the direction of the temple, figuring Keona could handle things until he returned with Roan. Hopefully things wouldn't be too uncomfortable, considering Snarky's obviously sorry state.

— Reggan

[ROXANNE R.]

The captain didn't seem to be far when the sound of a mournful cry brushed against her ears, she had been lazing about on the beach deciding to take a break from her usual duties but that was shortlived. It always was and she let out a dramatic groan as she rose to her paws "Woe is me... Captain of the seven seaaaaas," A toothy grin on her maw as she rolled her eyes at her own dramatics, she noticed that Michael was already walking away and then that's when she saw a hybrid and Keona standing there. She stayed back for a moment unable to help but squint. Was Keona always that small? Damn. With a shake of her head, Roxanne would pick up her paws trotting over to the stranger but hating beside her dealer as she parted her maw immediately to speak "Hello hello." Man, this guy looked like shit. Of course, she would keep her thoughts to herself as her mismatched gaze scanned over the sharkcat.

"I didn't catch your name due to m'late arrival." She sat down curling her fluffy tail around her paws before lifting one of them up to glance over her pink claws only to frown slightly realizing that they were slowly losing their pink. She would have to repaint them later though her gaze shifted to Snarky again to introduce herself "M'names Roxanne Roux and I'm Captain of the Typhoon." The sight of several bits of wood and whatever Snarky held in his grip made her smile falter slightly, well, now she had a fucking mess to clean up. Great, She thought as her pupils narrowed a bit.