mr. michael's magnificent mini-me's | party

[shadow=black,left]PAOLA VASQUEZ[/shadow]

I just wanna taste it; Watermelon sugar high!

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Paola had offered to host a party to celebrate Mr. Michael's coming litter of pups, and she had never been the kind of person to go back on her word, and especially not when someone she deeply cares for is concerned. It had taken about a week's worth of planning, resource gathering, and decorating, but by the time the weekend came, Paola was satisfied she'd done the best she could do.

On a small clearing just a few steps away from the coast, beanbags and tables were strewn around a very small firepit set on a patch of sand. Black and silver streamers were strung up on the wiry canopy overhead, and a larger white banner marked the impromptu entrance of the little party, "IT'S YOUR DAY TODAY, MR. MICHAEL" written in thick, block letters.

Some of the vines had been grown to tangle into each other, forming a loose mesh fence, and where some panels were decorated with panels, one was left bare and contained a small note held by a peg:

"I think you'd be the coolest dad, and I'm glad I met you.

- P"

By the foot of it, a small basket of blank squares of paper and an assortment of pens were left behind, clearly an invitation to write something to the celebrant.

She'd asked the barkeep of the tavern to help her cook, and they'd agreed after some light convincing and the promise to help wash the dishes for the next few weeks. A small price to pay and a worthy exchange. For her trouble, he'd helped cook an assortment of seasoned meat, placed opposite a small pile of fresh meat. The newcomer, Vandal, had even brought rainbow-colored chicken wings—a Typhoon staple, she had stated. Six different punch bowls were spread out, each clearly labelled "alcoholic" and "non-alcoholic", but both boasted the same type of flavors to keep anyone from being left out.

Lastly, an perhaps what had taken the most amount of time to gather, a small pile of plushies decorated one corner of the clearing, behind a sign that said "Gifts for Mr. Michael". There were seven in total, for she had not known how many pups he carried: an elephant, a crocodile, a moose, an orca, a hyena, a lion, and a white bear. Each one wore an empty nametag around its neck, presumably to allow the children to name them.

Giving the clearing one last look-over, Paola grinned in satisfaction and hit the small, battery-powered radio with the end of her tail. Some song played, she didn't recognise it, but it suited the mood enough without being too obnoxious. With her final touch complete, Paola called the attention of a nearby clanmate and asked if they could call everyone to the clearing—especially Michael. It's a party, after all, and a party wouldn't be complete without its guest of honor.

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10 MOONS

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BETA

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TYPHOON

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SHE/HER

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© AUDACITY

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[spoiler=BABY'S GOT A FACE LIKE THUNDER]

GENERAL.
• paola vasquez | paola, pao | click here for bio
• unknown origin | unknown birthplace
• appears to be 10 or 11 moons | unknown parentage
• female | she/her | lesbian
• the typhoon | beta | the blackjack rats

APPEARANCE.
• thick-furred black smoke norwegian forest cat with an absurdly long tail
• wears multiple gold earrings on each ear
• wears the typhoon's required charm bracelet
• carries a small leather satchel filled with trinkets
• physically fit, no injuries, no visible health issues

PERSONALITY.
• non-judgemental, friendly; easy to get along with; relaxed, patient, sincere; can usually be encouraged to accompany people without struggle; usually in a happy mood
• strategic but takes her time; unwilling to make decisions for other people; unbothered by both isolation and company; an anything-goes type of person
• usually undriven and bored; self-criticizing, self-doubting; mischievous and does a lot of things for attention; lonely and desperately craves company; lost

INTERACTIONS.
• physically moderate | mentally difficult
• fights only when necessary or playfully
• hard to truly provoke | easy to calm down
• fire and electricity elementals | conjuration
• non-violent interactions are always allowed
• attack in bolded #f7a57b text | mention [member=15708]PAOLA[/member]

[/spoiler]

When Paola had initially suggested some kind of party for his upcoming pups, Michael had been more than up for it. After all, he had a constant mixture of anxiety and excitement battling in his chest for attention when it came to thinking about his children, and perhaps such an event would make the excitement win out. However, when he had enthusiastically agreed with her idea, he had been expecting something fairly small. Aside from the occasional celebrations with Trevor and some of his other thieving friends, the reaver had never really been to too many huge parties. Often, he was simply around to enjoy the smaller gatherings, which usually involved a few drinks and words between friends – and if it was back in the day, it often involved he and Trev sneaking off to go and talk on their own. Something like this, though? It was completely unexpected, and that was kind of the beauty of it. He'd never really had any sort of surprise parties growing up, and although Roxie occasionally surprised him with little things, this would be a fairly new experience for him in its entirety. Sort of like the entire birth of his children, actually.

The coyote had been laying on the porch of his hut when an NPC came trotting up to him, proudly announcing to him that there was a gathering being held in his honor. The entire thing had caused him to pause a little bit, and if he hadn't known that Trygve was more than likely off in The Pitt, he would've thought it was some kind of prank. Pushing himself up to his feet, the dark furred canine made his way over to where he had been directed, the scent of food and smoke increasing as he grew ever closer. The combination of it all was enough to get Michael's tail wagging, and by the time he eventually reached where the sign was set up, he already felt overwhelmed – in a good way. He stared up at the blocky lettering above for a long moment, stunned, before his mismatched gaze sought out Paola, the one who had put everything together. As soon as he spotted her near the radio, he made his way over, a crooked grin on his face. He said cheerfully, coming to sit nearby, "Paola, I... I don't even know what to say about all of this. I don't think I've ever had something like this put together before. Not for someone like me, anyways..." As he allowed his gaze to wander openly over all of the decorations, food, and effort that had gone into the gathering, he found himself muttering, "This is amazing. I can't wait to dig into the food, or enjoy the time with everyone by the fire... and the gifts for the little ones. Thank you so much." Michael had a genuine smile on his face, something that was becoming less and less uncommon as of late, but was still an impressive feat nonetheless.

MICHAEL TOWNLEY-PHILLIPS - THE TYPHOON - REAVER

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