08-22-2020, 06:28 PM
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 1.4;"]SALEM | Softly, paws like shadows tread over unfamiliar grass. A silhouette to the lone pirate assembled at the tree. Dark eyes observed in silence, falling on first a familiar, frightened, face -- luring him into the light, only to pause at the sight of one of those who stood defensively before her.
He knew the pristine white fur as well as he knew his own soft black. "Jack?" Startled, Salem nearly stumbled over one of the great cedar's roots. A soft grunt escaped his maw, sheepish as he scrambled to the side of his crewmate, Kian. His eyes rested on Jack alone, thoughtful.
All four seasons had passed since he'd last seen any of his siblings. Misfortune had passed too -- if the lack of pumpkin adorning his head revealed anything. The vines curled neatly around his legs tightened briefly, as he allowed his head to fall to an inquisitive angle.
The talk of neutrality and signs lingered in the air, his own thoughts floating in the wind, tongue resting on the roof of his mouth. Salem knew only of the Pitt, though he had called the Typhoon his home for more than a year now -- having never participated in the skirmishes, nor been a victim of capture. In truth, it all seemed distant to the small feline.
Now, strangely, it seemed too close -- his brother carried that scent and stood among the others. An icy sentinel, though that rang familiar. Jack had always been protective of those he called his own.
With Kian, Jack, and Aine all present in one place, Salem felt inclined to enjoy the 'neutrality' of this place -- relieved even, for he sought no bloodshed among his family, both new and old.
"Didn't --" his voice is quiet, uncertain among a crowd; he had never practiced the art of public speech well. His head ducked as he spoke, fur warm. "Didn't the groups used to gather somewhere? Peacefully I mean?"
He knew the pristine white fur as well as he knew his own soft black. "Jack?" Startled, Salem nearly stumbled over one of the great cedar's roots. A soft grunt escaped his maw, sheepish as he scrambled to the side of his crewmate, Kian. His eyes rested on Jack alone, thoughtful.
All four seasons had passed since he'd last seen any of his siblings. Misfortune had passed too -- if the lack of pumpkin adorning his head revealed anything. The vines curled neatly around his legs tightened briefly, as he allowed his head to fall to an inquisitive angle.
The talk of neutrality and signs lingered in the air, his own thoughts floating in the wind, tongue resting on the roof of his mouth. Salem knew only of the Pitt, though he had called the Typhoon his home for more than a year now -- having never participated in the skirmishes, nor been a victim of capture. In truth, it all seemed distant to the small feline.
Now, strangely, it seemed too close -- his brother carried that scent and stood among the others. An icy sentinel, though that rang familiar. Jack had always been protective of those he called his own.
With Kian, Jack, and Aine all present in one place, Salem felt inclined to enjoy the 'neutrality' of this place -- relieved even, for he sought no bloodshed among his family, both new and old.
"Didn't --" his voice is quiet, uncertain among a crowd; he had never practiced the art of public speech well. His head ducked as he spoke, fur warm. "Didn't the groups used to gather somewhere? Peacefully I mean?"