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Post by Renathan on Aug 22, 2019 7:17:09 GMT -6
It seems that some gooseberries look pretty ripe! In addition, a bell-pepper has also ripened. Better pick it up before it goes soft!
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Post by Flare on Aug 22, 2019 7:20:06 GMT -6
When he licked his thumb to flick pages, an odd thought ran across his mind at the speed of snail. Why did he lick his thumb to pull pages apart of his special book. Had he seen it done and just copied it? Glancing up at the canopy briefly, Flare watched the sunlight ray break apart into an array of whites, yellows, greens and clear colors to reach his eyes. The broken lights played across his fiery scales. A beautiful sight; not the scales, the lights. Could care less about the scales. If he ignored them long enough, would they sluff off? Was there pale skin beneath? Would this nightmare finally break? Something he did not know, but the drake's inner self believed this wasn't the smartest idea. The scales had cracked across the back of his hand previously. It didn't hurt, but sure as maw itched. Wherever the scales were in need of attention, itched without end. 26 11.20
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Post by Flare on Aug 24, 2019 10:24:23 GMT -6
abscently, he scrawled a few items down on his open special book. things that happened to cross his mind as he laid there, relaxing. occasionally shifting to use the back bark of the tree to scratch an itchy patch of scales. the itchiness seemed to be increasing lately. Usually relieved by rubbing against a rough surface or sctatching with his claws, but the itchiness feeling returned without fail it seemed. perhaps it had something to do with the humidity. he discovered that he wasn't able to sweat when overheated. for some reason he had a vague memory on the back of his mind of a brightly colored ssa with face frills; haix. haix with their heat releasing face frills. he didn't have frills, far as he'd noticed. no sneezing out random flaps of skin, although that would look unusual too. shifting his posture a bit, the drake opened out his wing membranes some. it helped, but only minutely. 27 12.20
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Post by Flare on Aug 24, 2019 18:39:22 GMT -6
The items he scrawled down in his little book were less then legible on some days. Clutching that tiny hook of what was called a 'pencil' here in the city, the ssa drake broke more pencils with excessive pressure on the delicate lead core inside. One claw proved useful to whittle off the wood around the pencil's end when the lead broke off, and not just snapping it in half. Happened on more then one occasion. Giving a little sigh, Flare reached up with the back of one hand to rub at his eyes. It was somewhat foggy lately, and a bit bothersome to attempt to squint through. Although when he blinked, his sight didn't appear to improve any. Rub rub, rub rub. The finer, circular pads of his fingertips massaged around his eye socket a bit. Not only was his vision gradually fogging up, the lids and edges of his eyes were itchy too. Why was everything itching? 28 13.20
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Post by Flare on Aug 25, 2019 5:59:44 GMT -6
To his memory, Flare hadn't handled anything poisonous recently. Monarch, the conifer cat, didn't make him itchy with prolonged contact. Granted, there were a few itchy areas around the meeting point of wing and shoulder, but the ssashirk hadn't tried to reach them with his arms. One would believe that scales and claws and what not could also prevent an allergic reaction to whatever he'd gotten into. Was it pollen? Even with the lack of a female to impress who didnt' have his blood somewhere, Pak, the pollen cat, would throw his pollen around like it was no other pachee's business. He was the leader, the whole pride knew it. Didn't mean that the other males didn't know or care. Not something the drake kept part of; the pecking order of his creatures. He rubbed an itchy spot around the back of his head against the tree bark. Thankfully oak trees had very rough bark. 29 14.20
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Post by Flare on Aug 25, 2019 6:04:57 GMT -6
No, nothing really popped out in his mind as being handled for being sensitive or poisonous. Nothing that he 'owned'. The mjusi he barely saw once it had been released into the area; preferring to be nocturnal and bury itself apparently during the day. Nothing even seemed to be in season right now. Possibly the drake could find something to 'eat' around here. But nothing seemed to draw his stomach in the direction of food. Hadn't in a few days at least. '{I must be getting sick again}' he thought to himself, resting his skull against the tree bark. Laying the pencil out of his fingers between two pages of his special book and closing it tightly shut. There was little to write anyhow today. It just didn't feel... right to write today. He didn't know why. Stretching a bit, the drake started to perform a slow rotation of his neck in a clockwise circle. 30 15.20
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Post by Renathan on Aug 25, 2019 6:17:28 GMT -6
A strange toxic-looking flower is growing nearby... Is it really safe to pick this thing? It is quite camouflaged, though!
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Post by Flare on Aug 25, 2019 6:18:06 GMT -6
His inner instincts (if one could call them that) rolled themselves up into a tight little ball of unease at the various itches he'd been experiencing lately. Itchiness periodically all over his outer body, on the scales. With the scales. However. A decrease of his vision. Lack of appetite. Increased sleep. A feeling of just 'wrong' prickled from these as a whole. What was wrong. To be fair, Flare didn't recognize the initial symptoms of heat stroke/heat exhaustion when he'd blown into the city as a walking...limping dusty creature in search of mannah. To his memory, as he searched it initially, he'd not seen a ssashirk back in Tumai going 'itchy' like this. It would take time to find any of those he had met; Haix and Darkee and Offal, they might have ideas on what happened. He continued to roll his neck a bit, feeling uncomfortably twisted up and knotted. -rip- 31 16.20
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Post by Flare on Aug 25, 2019 6:25:32 GMT -6
The drake froze at the sound. It sounded way too close for comfort. His clouded vision flicked in all directions. When the baakir came past, they made clopping noises. Chomping noises, Slurping noises. Occasionally snorts and snuffles. But never actual 'ripping' sounds. Nothing else, far as he was aware, ate leaves like that. But the sound of a tearing leaf sounded VERY DIFFERENT. His hand snaked up the back of his shoulder to brush the knotted area where he'd been rotating his neck. There was a tear. In his skin. A tear. A FREAKING TEAR. The split felt damp along the edges. Sitting up faster then intended, the drake pulled his hand away fast, inspecting his fingers. The dampness wasn't blood. At least it didn't initally look like blood. Blood didn't have a shiny oily look to it. No, it didn't look like that at all. Panic rose in his gut like bile. His flight instinct in full GET THE HELL OUT OF DODGE MODE. 32 17.20
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Post by Flare on Aug 25, 2019 6:32:39 GMT -6
Whatever creatures seemed to be active and moving around at this point paused in their instinctive comings and goings briefly. The giant made of fire who mostly cleared brambles and slept out the day's hot points scrambled around on its back like some sort of strange tortle creature. Flailing large long limbs tipped with sharp points out as he searched for his moving thing. The giant had a bad limb, one did not match the rest. Rolling and flailing and seeking the giant's dead tree arm thing. He found it, standing up fast. Tearing sounds again. Typically giants don't make that sort of leaf-ripping sound. It did not sound like ripping leaves though. It only seemed to spur more panic motion out of the giant. He smacks the area that just made a noise upon himself, dragging large long limb fingers? through it, staring. It prompts him to move away. very very quickly. WHY?! 18.20 -beginning of the end? -begin Ecdysis
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Post by Flare on Sept 1, 2019 6:23:55 GMT -6
The season began to turn as the sun set on the day of hell that the ssashirk had endured. He'd dragged his no longer as sorry, soggy, self home that night, crashed almost literally into his tent and went straight to sleep. Waking over a day later to being parched and starvingly hungry. The kennels near the gardens, as he had been told by the Warden had a bit of a food kitchen for those who were a bit starved for cash and could do with a pick me up meal. He would stand in line, and take his portion of steaks and bring them back to his garden to devour. May or may not have been chewing on a steak going past the Warden, and scaring the bjesus out of him first thing that day. The steaks warmed his belly and a good two waterskins of water seemed to at least pacify the parched of not drinking the loch. He'd gotten a bit of that murky water in his system doing the whole shedding swim thing, and it tasted AWFUL. 34 1.20
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Post by Flare on Sept 1, 2019 6:33:51 GMT -6
Yawning widely, the drake stretched his arms up over his head, arching them backward to stretch out the aching muscles in his shoulders. Rotating his neck first clockwise, then counterclockwise. Shaking out his limbs and stretching out his legs next, at least best he could do. Somehow, he'd lost his crutch in the last forty-eight hours. A crutch would be the first thing to fashion himself, again. Then, to do some planning on how to alter his quality of life. The 'brush of death' of his shedding state of mind seemed to bring about the feeling of 'ok, I'm going to need to make the best of what I've been given'. Such as scale care. He would go into town, perhaps find something to do for that. Or mix it up himself. It wasn't hard to make oils out of plants; hell, he could do it himself. Save some of his meager savings, perhaps even look in his harvest box and sell things. 35 2.20
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Post by Renathan on Sept 1, 2019 18:26:03 GMT -6
Wow, you really do have some expertly grown sweetgrass over here waiting to be collected!
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Post by Flare on Sept 2, 2019 4:58:43 GMT -6
The harvests of Pethia could go for a small amount of funds, perhaps even buy some herbs to grow in the garden. His eye flicked past a few of the pachee having a tussle; they looked very much like cats. Even without mouths, would they enjoy the invasive mint that made cats very happy? Invasive plants, if they didn't get their seeds into the ground, can be tamed. That could be something to offer his small variety of 'cat plants'. Potted, could do that. WIth one final yawn, the drake started to hunt around for a new branch that could serve as a crutch. Perhaps looking for one with a split trunk already going on, or what not. Woodworking wasn't Flare's skill, but these claws had a use of whittling knives if the edge was kept sharp enough. Aha. Perhaps that fallen limb that was over the fence. He'd try that out first. 36 3.20
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Post by Flare on Sept 2, 2019 5:10:00 GMT -6
Hadn't the Warden mentioned there were some gardening related shops here in the city? Had to be with this many 'plant' things going about and all these... lots. Frankly, the drake never saw a soul here in the gardens, and he spent nearly all his time here, when not sleeping. While the garden he kept in Tumai was small, he'd still gotten the one-off compliment that it was a nice piece of visual art. Not so much for the olfactory art, the art of the smell. If he breathed in deep, which he did, the ssashirk could smell compost, dirt, and a 'wildness' smell he could not place. For all he knew, the pachee and mjusi could be dunging all over the garden and he wouldn't be any of the wiser. Wouldn't that create a scent of fermentation? Not quite sure on that. On the subject of compost... was there a way he could cultivate worms for Castor and to amend the soil? 37 4.20
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