Visual Input Required [Tsurajin/Invite]

[Nog]

Men at sea are as much of fish as the real fish are. Some hunt, some are hunted, others hide, and the rest are unaware that they're surrounded by water. Repeating such nonsense to himself, a rather giant man was taken somewhat aback by it. Not his most well-connected of phrases. A mere Nog, large and never in charge as he is, resigned himself to spectating seamen for the afternoon. A casually rough, gruff, and tough exterior suitably fit the bill for their ilk. Nog then, mentally, discussed the generalized he himself created. Not one entirely original, yet a claim to be keen of all the same. Would this be attributed only to Marines? Fishermen? Sailors, or only pirates? Would all of the above be struck by a similar, if not exact physical stereotyping?

Men planted firmly upon island ground were as much... hmmm... what are they, truly? Nog wasn't much for repeating himself; although semantic topics like these were his specialty. They're eternally prophesied to be uttered forever on, and on, and on. Never as one, perpetually warped by word of mouth. Much like philosophy, in fact. The half-human's visage contorted in correspondence to his internal mumbling. It was if he were merely staring in the direction of the distant sailors, gawking and making faces at their direction. Yet, life was never so straightforward, now is it?

Nog's repressed ramblings were often unnoteworthy. In fact, it was once every blue moon that it remained on topic for more than a few precious moments. The world remained quiet, despite the everyday clamor. It was never still, ever kinetic. If, perhaps, without the people: uninteresting. Thoughts going to and fro clouded the fact that a rather top-heavy fellow was approaching. Of course, paired with Nog's knack for trouble, that fellow appeared terribly unamused.

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We've been here before Tsurajin Cete but just for a reminder: all OOC comments and tags will be down here beneath a horizontal rule (or, you know, this dividing line above this footnote).

On to start a beautifully sardonic relationship! The best kind!

[Tsurajin Cete]

"Damn that man, his little escapade not only risked putting my face on one of these blasted posters... but now I only have this one explosive capsule left. I tried telling him that those base walls were thicker than they looked." Tsu scowled and whined to herself as she strode down the marginally inclined road towards the seaside. Her irritation more than apparent across her furrowed brow and caught betwixt her firmly crossed arms. Though despite this she tenderly held a ball-sized orb in her hand.

No clear destination in mind, all she could do was mull over the prior incident in her mind. After all, she had just blown a rather large wall into the side of a marine base no more than an hour earlier... did she accidentally leave anything behind that could pin her to the incident? Perhaps she worried too much or perhaps she was being too liberal in who she helped on these rare days she left her little hovel on the Red Line.

In the midsts of her inner dialogue a nefarious sign of low maintenance in the road she happened to be traversing made itself more than apparent as she tripped. In her mere seconds airborne her orb slipped, striking the ground and beginning to bounce, at first lightly, but quite swiftly gaining momentum and height... straight for the harbour. Wide-eyed and pale to the face Tsu made off in hot pursuit of her precious item.

A few yards down the path she realized an issue far larger than losing the orb itself, that there might be people in the way of it. A boat was one thing, but she'd feel really bad if it happened to hurt someone on land.

"Hey big guy... you might want to step back about ten, maybe fifty feet." Yelling being her only hope to keep someone out of the blast radius, she was forced to stop short as her orb struck the hull of a small caravel vessel... instantly detonating into a fiery eruption that consumed the figurehead of the ship.

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Hope ya like fireworks~!

[Nog]

Time seemed relative to the disgruntled sailor. A man on a mission, unbound by menial restrictions. Of course, it was all to have a fair few choice words with, presumably, the largest man on the island. Nog, as sprightly and active as never, merely trailed the approaching figure. Oh, was that a vein? Details filled in the gaps, unlike that in the form of a digital scan. The seaman's hair, eyes, and skin were like a dark clay. Broad shoulders, burly arms, generally burlesque body shape. A "real specimen", some cruel scientist would say. Well, Nog assumed so.

"Hey, bigg'un, you're spookin' the other dock workers. You seen a mirror recently? Y'look like a painted statue with a real bad curse."

Assumptions based on experience wasn't something the half-human was particularly interested in repeating. Many people differ from the next, although Nog hadn't met many people on a personal level. Interpersonal relationships were difficult, built on a mutual understanding, respect, or fear of the other side. These days, not many care to offer any; excluding "fear". By all means, it was eternally effective. A reason for the strong to lord over the weak. It was simple. All living beings understood it. Meanwhile, the lack of response garnered a rather less-than satisfactory reaction. The clay-toned sailor grumbled in a painfully evident frustration.

"D'you understand me?! I'm talkin' here! You speak words, funny m --!"

An abrupt explosion took the scene by storm. Nog swiftly glanced towards the ruckus, many other sailors scurrying to take a peek. Flames enveloped a nearby figurehead, soon gathering a crowd. Many top-heavy and rotund seamen took to the damaged vessel, taking charge among their peers. This was Nog's chance to escape. Attention never sat nicely with him. Turning his visage away from the soon-sunken wreck, the half-giant stood with a groan. Nog's lumbering gait only exacerbated his form as it approached Shells Town proper. Nog stole another peek back at the explosion site; confirming a background thought of his.

"Hmmm. Oh dear. Christopher wouldn't appreciate whoever did this."

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Yeah, uh, wasn't me. Was it you Tsurajin Cete ?

[Tsurajin Cete]

With her warning, thoroughly acted upon and considered by the larger man she would happen to pull a large sum of flour from her bag, throwing it unto the ground and slipping between buildings as the white power offered her an almost comical lack of cover. Clearing her mind a moment at the loss of her poor explosive child, she would turn towards the direction the larger man moved in and proceeded to follow in hopes to catch up. She had recalled the pervert of a man Chris making note of a giant, but she hadn't anticipated running into such a man on her own before being dragged into it by the mess that was her prior benefactor.

"Hey tall, dark, and Elbafian are you the giant weenling Chris was looking for?" Hoping her comment hadn't fallen on deaf ears, Tsu quirked her head to the side and pursed her lips in thought. Almost hoping this guy wasn't just one of those tremendously abnormally sized humans that she was all too familiar with seeing from time to time.

[Nog]

A certain face creased Nog's visage upon the approach of a strangely colorful woman. Unaware of her colorfulness within her personality, it was left to conversation to seek it out. Stopping abruptly, glancing back to peek at the wreckage, the half-human's less hostile encounter began. Of course, that didn't remove a factor of banter by any means. A few digits led themselves to gingerly scratch at Nog's jaw. A minuscule, questioning groan escaped him. Such words, directed at him, only remained as a descriptor of the physical sense. Even then, "dark" didn't fit Nog much beyond his scruffy cloth and fur. Nonetheless, the magic of audible communication led the half-giant's eyes towards an outwardly flamboyant individual.

"Hmmm... me? I am nobody. Not anyone but who I am perceived. Therefore, I could be anybody. Just as you are: nobody, yet anybody."

Nog took the effort to prose, whether it was to result in dismissal or perpetuated interaction. Although, something else came to mind: "weenling". What was it? The half-human was keenly familiar with "weedling", "wiener", "weenie", and "welp". Those appeared like synonyms. Was it an insult? An endearing form of rambunctious verbal aggression? ...But what was, as they say, "banter"? It had been a lengthy number of years since he had bothered with the idea. Nog suddenly snapped back to attention. This woman also mentioned Chris. A central figure, it seemed. Beneath wrought iron and cloth, a pair of eyes slowly blinked in response. A broad, eclipsing palm hung over the salmon-colored woman with intent to pat. Nog's visage had just barely creaked into a mild grin.

"Let's say we've more in common than an amateur's outlook on life claims. Chris and I met by chance. And, it seems I will do the same with you."

Another thought occurred. One not so tedious, at that.

"Remaining bare in public isn't pleasant. Will you follow me to my harp?"

Headpat or not, Nog gave a turn and a lumbering lean beside himself. It seemed as though he was attempting to weave between a pair of buildings. Unfortunately, his attempt was rather clumsy. The raucous of overturned garbage was rampant beneath the half-giant's feet.

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You know what happened, you know where we are. Let's get back at it, Tsurajin Cete !