Rook

Argumentative sculptor with a talent for cooking.
Poly relationship with Table and Cramu.

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Clay slid around his claws, shaved away like the fur of some unruly familiar. A golden eye twitched as a yell echoed from somewhere in the 'town' - if he tried to pin the voice to a name, Rook might've marched over and made them shut up himself - but then he recalled that he has a family, and can't really do that (Table would get mad, and those nights never end well). With a short huff he tossed the lump of clay to the side, any inspiration lost to simmering thoughts, an aching throat, and a pounding headache making itself known.

It seems to have gotten worse, ever since his children left to sail the seas with Koi. Rook's jaw clenched at even thinking about the mottled amnesiac, and so instead redirected his focus to fiddling with the corsage on his wrist. A gift from his wife, to help calm him when she was at the bakery - though now that he thought about it, the florist had left town a few months ago.