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Post by Kristofor on Jan 26, 2023 13:37:38 GMT -6
The climate is different then the dry cold that is outside his apartment when he goes into the city. Perhaps its just some sort of human make machine that alters it? He's seen human hoses and sprinklers before; so they water the grass outside the home, called a 'lawn'. The ground as he steps off the road isn't sodden though, it is firm to the touch of his pawpads, to his weight as he steps onto the carpetlike grass that seems to spread out under the gate that keeps it shut. 'Close the gate after you enter' is specifically on the instructions sent with the wild haired client's address. Beckoning Dawson to walk alongside him, the fox got them both in through the gate before shutting it. The subtle 'click' of the latch, which isn't wood like the rest of the fencing, but silver. Not iron. Why? Iron... rusts in the rain. Silver doesn't. His ears prick up. 15
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Post by Kristofor on Jan 26, 2023 23:05:31 GMT -6
Something snaps a twig right beside him. Turning slowly, he's looking around at fox height for anything around him... and sees nothing. Its honestly kind of foggy in this entrance to the area. Even his fox night vision isn't piercing this fog. Sniffing the air, his fur slightly raised off his dark skin in an effort to appear larger then he actually is, there's still nothing. Grrr... Smell. Reaction. Growl at. His gaze directs downwards, as Dawson smelled it first, pointed at a bush... with eyes. A sweet scent is nearby... it bothers his nose a bit. It comes out of the bush with a small chirp. Chirp? That... is an unusual creature. If flying dogs and lizards who fly are weird to the fox, this one took the cake on strange. The shape of its head is too large for its body, resembling a small melon, tipped on either end with hazel brown eyes. And why does its face look so... oblong. Could be something totally different. 16
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Post by Kristofor on Jan 27, 2023 0:01:54 GMT -6
The melon head has a split for a 'mouth', lined with teeth. Standing on two thick legs and a small tail, the thing looked like the cross between a watermelon and a dinosaur. The teeth are very thin, like someone lined the mouth with burned chopsticks or twigs, filed to a point and stripped of bark. Sort of what some beavers did when using sticks to ward off other animals. It blinks at the growling creature before it. Nothing comes in, besides the one who feeds. Feeds is good. Feeds feeds it. Who are you? The watermelon on legs with teeth isn't scary. A bit startling, but not scary. He's encountered scary, and usually it revolved around angry farmers. So the fox isn't phased nearly as much as anyone else would be to find a watermelon on legs. His dog growls at it, but the hound notices him not scared. The growling doesn't stop, but its quieter. The creature isn't afraid of them, blinking innocently up at them. Was this something to distract? 'I'm going to move on now. Sorry to disturb you.' he says to the thing, and moves on. As it rotates its head eerily to follow with its eyes as he leaves. 17
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Post by Kristofor on Jan 28, 2023 4:47:48 GMT -6
He feels Dawson's flank against his leg as he walks. Untrust. Sweet smell. Not chasey. Good. Do not trust. No chasey. "Danger". Now one can't express danger in air quotes through the language of wilds as he tries to express it in wild and in his emotions, which Dawson seems able to read, like Mira can. Kris can see the hound's tail droop slightly with the mention of 'no chasey'. He likes chasing things. Neither of them can see terribly well here, the humidity created fog makes this feel like the swamp that outlines the beaver's dam where badgers used to live, until it flooded. The ground is slightly squishy to the toepads touch. Curious, the fox stops, crouches on one knee, to touch the ground beneath his feet. It is indeed, squishy. Scraping a claw through it, the short claw pierces the ground and peels a bit. A chunk comes free. 18
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Post by Kristofor on Jan 28, 2023 4:52:19 GMT -6
Not unlike the thick layer of moss on the fence posts outside of the property, there's at least a small amount of moss growing on the ground too. But the ground itself, is squishy. Porous. Like walking on a sponge. Squeezing the small chunk releases a small amount of liquid from the visible holes, like looking at Mouse's cheese wheel. The smell isn't great but not horrible either. Perhaps because the sweet scent from earlier is lingering, like tasting a fruit for hours on end that was super potent. Hense part of the 'dangerous' part of plants; they can poison, or linger too. He's cautious, putting the spongy ground back in the fox created hole and patting it down. No harm done, right? Its just squishy dirt. Dawson's curious now of the weird feel beneath paws. Feels like bed, but wet. Bed isn't wet.... not always. Right? A sniff, ew, no not bed. Not bed at all. 19
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Post by Kristofor on Jan 28, 2023 4:57:43 GMT -6
Knowing his surroundings would make him less cautious, but Kristofor's played it safe this whole time. However, he can hear movement among the plants that isn't himself or his canine companion. Ears forward and angle sideways as he listens like a satellite dish... the sweet scent lingers but hasn't increased or degraded. Ick, it lingers on the tongue if he breathes through his mouth at all. Crouching, the fox inches forward until he's standing rather awkwardly on his hands and feet. For standing on two legs most of the time, he's not usually doing this sort of pose, but on some occasions, it draws him closer into his senses around him. One paw raises off the ground as he points, listening. Smelling. Dawson's seen his fox friend do this 'four paws' sort of thing before, but it still throws him off and pokes at a switch that he's already keenly labeled 'DO NOT CHASE FOX FRIEND'. 20
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Post by Kristofor on Jan 28, 2023 5:04:01 GMT -6
He signals for the houlou to follow alongside him, and proceeds on all fours. It does limit how tall he can see in the fog, but right now its not even worth it. Until he bumps nose first into something. A log? Until it blinks at him. This isn't like the first melonheaded creature he saw as the eyes, not hazel this time, but a deep mottled brown-purple, blink at him. Like a walking bruise. Its bigger. Was it pretending to be a knobby log? Because that's all the wrong shape, has legs as it stands, and opens its jaws about a few inches from his nose. Food? Grrr... he growls at the creature, ears flat to his skull, his muzzle drawn into a toothy snarl. Go away. Toothy thing with its mouth open hisses an exhale of unusual smell but its not nearly as sweet as what is literally lingering in the air. Like fermented berries. Beside him, the houlou mimics fox friend, growling. 21
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Post by Kristofor on Jan 28, 2023 5:09:10 GMT -6
As he sees the creature stand, it reminds him of a large chicken, buildwise. Except it has no hint of arms or wings. Hidden maybe? A thin 'something' extends from between its eyes, tipped in white. Was it a berry? Was this the dead flower in bud? No. Why would he be asked to harvest off something living. That sounded terrible. With his 'wild fox pose' height, the thing actually stands at his ear height when fully upright. Uh... maybe being eye to eye with this toothy melon which is not green isn't a good idea. Kristofor hisses a warning snarl through his fangs, which aren't nearly as spiny or long or even black as the creature before him, Probably double the length of his own canines for each spiny tooth in that maw. And from what he can't see in its gullet, likely full of teeth too. He stands to confront it, and the houlou gets in its face instead. Grrr.... The brown-mottled toothy thing hisses back. 22
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Post by Kristofor on Jan 28, 2023 5:17:39 GMT -6
"No." the fox reprimands the hound with a gentle, firm word. He stresses caution in his emotions. Caution. Larger. Big teeth. The hound growls, exposing his own teeth at the creature. Who doesn't seem intimidated, or impressed by the two hairballs and their display of fangs. After all, who on this green glade had longer, prettier fangs then itself? The larger, brighter colored hairball is up on twos, like how itself walks. Long tail, but it has tasted hair before. Very blech. Much ew. The smaller hairball is in their face again, snorts out of its 'nose' and retreats a few steps to stand by taller, bigger hairball. "Go away." he tells the creature. "We do not mean to disturb you." For a lack of eye movement, it would've rolled its eyes if possible. But no, can't do that in 'this body'. A rather rancid smell exhales from the toothy jaw as the maw closes. The thing seems to be submitting? 23
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Post by Kristofor on Jan 28, 2023 5:21:25 GMT -6
His sense of caution is tingling as fox and hound leave the larger melon, no, log headed creature behind. There was something wrong with that. It acted... smarter. Like it understood the wood language that came from him. Was he going crazy in this humidity? Because his fur is sticking to his body and it'll take hours to dry out because undercoat. Ugh, he hated the sound of the groomers dryer that he used for taking care of his own creatures but sometimes that's what was needed. Dawson's own instincts are telling him that isn't a normal reaction either, but for different reasons. Simpler ones. It had a much more 'off' smell to it then the initial small thing with teeth they'd seen coming in here. It came out of the denser then ever 'eye soop' that even he can't smell through. Fox friend was nose to nose with it. He would take point. Fox follow hound. yes. 24
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Post by Kristofor on Jan 28, 2023 5:28:13 GMT -6
The sentries are awake. They have seen the fox through potscoo, and nocturne now. It is not leaving. Has a dog with them. It is coming deeper into the grounds. Lingering smell on fox. Fae smell. Eat? Do not eat. Curiosity. Why is fox here. Why fae smell. Beckon deeper? If bad, will eat fox. Dog too. Dog good food. Away from their plot, the 'ping' of the sentries against their master's will catches attention while enjoying a particularly fishy sandwich and salad. Who said fae aren't pescetarians on an off day. Just no MEAT, at least for this one. The snapshots of their grounds from the sentries could be reminiscent of a slide show. They see the fox, and their hound, the hound smell on his body wasn't a trick, and they'd run into two sentries so far. Cautious, but not scared off. Impressive, or was the fox just plain thick? After all, he dissed the dangerous mission. Eat on desire. He is stupid, and will fail. 25
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Post by Kristofor on Jan 28, 2023 5:33:09 GMT -6
He shouldn't have done that, dissing the garden mission like that. Really should had. The sentries, unbeknownst to the fox, have their orders. The fog is thick and feels like walking through damp soup for Kristofor; even in winter, this place is much too humid and warm. Must be some sort of machine, again. Because he doesn't get 'magic'. Cracking his toes as he walks, he should've worn his sneakers, but at the same time would get them stuck in the mud, and then need to wear them tied around his neck while he walked. Not happening. He doesn't like that on a good day, and doesn't need to wear a new bald ring around his neck, as the fur has FINALLY grown back from the baldness he'd picked up when initially taking on a mad cat his first trip into the city. His hound picks up on hostile feelings from fox. Why? 26
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Post by Kristofor on Jan 28, 2023 5:38:21 GMT -6
He yips a bit. Fox mad? Why fox mad? The 'barrier' of language still exists but you can still have a wild conversation, just simple. 'Bad cat.' was about all he could sum up simply. 'Hurt by bad cat.' Because Dawson's only met one cat, he thinks of the snooty brat of a cat who can walk on air out of reach of chasey time. Cat brat hurt fox? Cat is bad! 'No no, our cat not bad. BIG bad cat. Our cat small.' Very small, and a shorthair to boot. This cat was BIG, and had long hair and a flat face. He can still see that smirking grin in his mind's eye. He doesn't like cats on a good day. But doesn't hate them. Ownership isn't something communicated in words for a wild animal; Dawson's aware of the cat, but fox friend insists THAT cat isn't bad. Oh contrare. Cat won't play at chasey time, so cat is bad. Bad at play. 27
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Post by Kristofor on Jan 28, 2023 5:42:22 GMT -6
Before he continues the thought of the yellow cat not being 'bad' as described, the sweet smell has gotten a LOT stronger. The hound sneezes as he pauses, sniffing the air. Something here. Something icky sweet smell. Like old berries strong smell. He's tasted old berries. Not so good. A low woof, a growl. Fox stop. Something here. Even untrained as a scenthound, Kristofor believed that Dawson's nose is much keener then his own. He's aware of the sweet scent, as it CLINGS to him, and makes his head spin a bit. Like someone opening up a vat of fermented berries. That is a strong smell that overwhelms his nose. Shielding it with his arm, he's looking left and right, listening for something. Anything, that will give away whatever is near. There's a shadow ahead, and it looks like a strange tree. Were they getting close to the plant he was supposed to retrieve yet? 28
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Post by Kristofor on Jan 28, 2023 5:46:02 GMT -6
The fox has stopped, studying the large treelike shadow. Its... unusually thick up top... and a split trunk much lower down. The sweet smell in the air is making it somewhat hard to focus on the details, and he's no great shakes at plant identification, unless it was around his forest home and he had taught himself the good plants to eat and the plants to avoid. This...tree moved. Or was that him moving to make the tree move? His brain is confused on this. Grr... Dawson smells something under the smell of sweet. It smells like char. Bad smell. Bark! Bark! What... the tree moves again, and this time he's sure its not his own head moving. AS the ground SHAKES beneath his feet and forces them both back a step as the tree moves and comes out of the fog-oh great forest spirit, what is that thing?! The final sentry is here. 29
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