


You can call me, Mint or Minty.
I usually type in green.
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"The soldier is a sailor. We can't just leave him to die. He must be valuable."
"That doesn't matter, he's unidentified and strange. He has a fish tail for christ's
sake! Do you not see that as strange?", the high ranking soldier looked to his
general with anger and frustration. Obviously, Rowani couldn't honestly be thinking
of enlisting this retch. Rowani's piercing gaze fell upon the soldier," Get a stretcher.
If you cannot find a stretcher to carry this man, you will. In a blight like this, we
need the help we can get. And he needs help, medical attention, and social
adaption. His boat is ancient and was named lost five years ago. Help him."


"Donovan, what are you doing?", The general stopped in her
tracks, raising a dark brow in his general direction. The grizzled soldier
dropped the hammer to the floor, nearly hitting his own toes. "Is this not
useful, ma'am?", his blank gaze fluttered across the dank and moist room,
his watchful and observing eyes stopping on her's. The connection was obviously
strong between the two, West never stopped trying to repay her for saving him
that fateful night. His ship had been taken over by band of pirates, their leader
had passed soon after, and ironically, the rest of his crew refused to partake.
The pirates threw themselves overboard and none of the existing original crew
ironically could steer the ship after most of them were killed off or fled.

the wayward son wrote:
-Wesley Donovan
[[West;; Donny]]
-Male
[[he/him;; dmab]]
calculating|rude|stoic|honest
honorable|dependable|blunt
very quiet/selective mutism
self hatred|diligant|caring
Wesley is a very dependable soldier,
he tries his best to not bat an eyelash
when it comes to death and killing,
but the sailor has seen a lot, been through
more. Being the sole survivor of a
pirate capture, he's rather copy and paste.
He'll do as you ask and commit to it,
but getting him to be more... social
and enthusiastic is a chore. He would
much prefer to be a pawn then try and
wake his demons.
A select few have seen emotion from
him, most of it being true anger, maybe
a chuckle here and there. His general
has seen him at his lowest, and he respects
her for helping him in her direst time.

Wesley isn't one to be taken by surprise in a fight, only when one notices him does he feel caught unaware and confused. War is so much simpler than interaction, gore is so much easier than feeling, than describing the thoughts buried in his mind. Blood and guts are easier than trying to calm the chaos in his braincase. It's easier to observe those around him than tell them that he knows, he knows they hate him. Despise that he has a special spot in Rowani's heart. He's taken her love for granted and tries his best to hide his growing want for the rebellious general.
He finds his feelings a sin, his PTSD makes him volatile in certain situations pertaining surprises, water, and shaky platforms. Never will he ever sail again without massive training and extensive practice. Rowani tries endlessly to help him, to show him that he's not alone and that she's willing to risk her life and soul for him. He knows, but he's afraid of hurting her. Wesley is a very kind soul deep down, but he's been so scarred he's afraid of trying to bring out his gentler side. In an attempt to not mess up he just doesn't. He's clipped his claws religiously, and doesn't open his mouth much, leaving him to using his boney knuckles or makeshift weapons in battle.





-day rowani found him in detail and how he's grown into a more accepting and outgoing character since
"Hush, hush. It'll be all okay from now on.",the brilliantly contrasting female leaned over him as the stretcher was taken to the nearest camp. Stocked with poultices and webbing for bandages. Both humans and viscets humming with activity, bumping into those carrying him through the tents and sick bays. Wesley's eyes rolled back before he closed his lids and groaned through his muzzle. The jostling hurt his ribs, his legs dead with exhaustion. He twitched here and there before he was slipped onto a medbay bed. It was tiring, keeping his eyes open, but he didn't want to be taken in his sleep. If these people were here to kill him, he wanted to put up a fight.







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