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Post by Flare on Aug 9, 2019 11:36:28 GMT -6
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Post by Flare on Sept 3, 2019 14:35:33 GMT -6
{Go towards the east, towards the end of town. That nyssa would've avoided the big city streets and kept to the wilds, the outskirts. Might be out near that old house I hear about every now and again.} Crannie told him as Flare closed the gate behind him, securing his sunhat around his horns. {I'll keep an eye on the little dearie, so go do your searching thing.} He thanked her, inwardly smirking at the expression of 'help me' crossing the Warden's features a bit. Brought the task on himself, he supposed. For the gardens were thankfully kitty-corner (who even thought up these stupid phrases) to the residential streets for ease of entrance he guessed, he didn't have too far to walk out towards the path leading out of the city. He hadn't taken this path but days ago.
He had not gone towards the mansion though, and it had... no, its 'feeliing' had changed considerably since he'd passed it first time.
September 1
3.20
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Post by Flare on Sept 3, 2019 14:45:41 GMT -6
The initial feeling of walking without a crutch felt almost off-balance as he slowly made progress down the garden paths out onto the cobblestones of the main stretch of city road. 'Just take it slow and steady, you are in no rush.' he told himself. From the information Crannie had given him, the nyssa probably had settled down someplace, and he would be looking for a stationary...walking... tree. He just couldn't wrap his mind around the idea of a living walking tree. Seeing is believing, sort of how he didn't consider that plants could also be cats.
Even being away from the building itself since the first time he'd attempted to cross its gate step, the drake felt... drawn to it. Just the barest pulls upon himself, not even a physical pull. But a spiritual one, he supposed? Not too sure. This magic stuff he didn't want part of; I mean, it screwed him over big time. No, it wasn't magic, that just gave him a headache.
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4.20
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Post by Flare on Sept 4, 2019 5:17:32 GMT -6
There were plenty of humans he'd seen walk with canes over his lifetime, but none of them had a long tail trailing behind or wings out of their backs. The internal griping of his own anatomy aside, Flare took one slow step at a time, his grip on the handle of the cane nearly a death grip. He didn't like the idea of falling down. Made him feel stupid and useless. Brushing off others to try and be the independent one and stand on his own, if he should have fallen. But that was past Flare. Present Flare would damn learn to service his own weakness and get around without help.
He'd managed previously and would do it again.
All this internal grumbling seemed to speed up time for some reason, he had made it nearly two blocks before the drake realized it. And around the residential streets, two blocks was surprisingly far.
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5.20
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Post by Flare on Sept 4, 2019 5:29:00 GMT -6
It perhaps could be easier if he didn't consider the cane a hinderance to his movement; like the crutch, it would eventually become part of his motion. A properly lengthed limb that he only had to hold to get to work proper. Right? Cane, staff, whatever. It did the job.
The gnarled end of the staff-cane seemed to curl into his fingers again as he walked, almost... reassuringly? Just what he would need, a staff that cared. It doesn't by the way, its just a staff. Nothing magical about it. For the drake didn't have the complete inablility to sense the magical leylines.
The mansions wrought iron gates came into view- ho. Oh wow. He could see why a great big tree creature (should Crannie's quest not be just a bunch of hooey) would want to take up residence here. The whole place was harvest season in full swing. There was nothing he couldn't keep his eyes off of. Even the gates that swung open without a touch.
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6.20
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Post by Flare on Sept 4, 2019 5:39:06 GMT -6
Flare didn't remember being here in Central Pethia for autumn. The air is crisp and cool while the summer gives way to the autumn as he steps through the gates. For him, everything has changed from the constant color of green, into other bright colors, as bright as his own scales. From his studies, deciduous trees (not conifer) change colors when the autumn season, the hot into cold season, arrives. The harvest season. Bright colors as the leaves start to fall and die. The grounds trees are gaining bright colors with great rapidity as they begin to lose their leaves one at a time in a slow dance to the ground. How... relaxing.
The drake has a memory of harvest for any farmers that grew anything being a busy time, of scything and drying and packing and selling and all this busy work. But its peaceful here. Taking a deep breath, deep enough to really expand his no longer incumbered ribcage, Flare breathes in and out this... autumn air.
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7.20
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Post by Flare on Sept 4, 2019 5:44:07 GMT -6
Depending on the type of walking tree, it may or may not be easy to find, he thought. Eyes still roving over the different sights of the mansion grounds. What kind of person lets their trees grow to such heights? Whomever this strange magical house belongs to must be a giant. He wouldn't have to reach any of the fruits if he came across any. From his vantage of the entrance, the grounds were splattered with apple trees, each one bearing bright, delicious fruits of various sizes and colors. Not just apples. He could see several fruiting choices of tree. Splashed against the green, leaves of crisp orange, bright yellow, fiery red, and soft brown sprinkle the canopy and the grass. Just how ripe were these fruits. Those apples did look awful good.
Carefully, the ssashirk made his way to the closest tree. Not quite at his eye level, some fat fruits hung on the tree, begging to be picked.
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8.20
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Post by Flare on Sept 5, 2019 5:22:11 GMT -6
However. One thing does stand out, and thats to never take a farmers crop without permission. Looking around the immediate area didn't jump out that any sort of farmer would be picking these fruits. The landscape would be well trimmed and the fruits already picked by now. Right? It wouldn't hurt to take just one? Reaching for the fruit, the stem broke with a light tug upon the branch. Flare had one apple now.
'I havent' had an apple since I was...small.' he thought to himself, opening his maw to take a bite. Cue the image of Johanna from The Rescuers Down Under trying to eat an eagle's egg. His jaws are designed for crushing and ripping, not taking a delicate bite. The flesh of the apple is pierced, flowing sweet juice across his tongue and down his throat. Ohhh, so good. So difficult to eat. The drake had to reach into his own mouth to pull the bleeding juice fruit out before his attempts to bite it caused him to swallow it whole.
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9.20
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Post by Flare on Sept 5, 2019 5:54:55 GMT -6
Hm. Inspecting the fruit in his hand, Flare ponders briefly how best to eat an apple this way. The regular way that he 'knew' how wouldn't work. His incisors weren't flat, but conical, all the teeth seemed to be conical. Not fruit grinding teeth. Likely the best way would be in pieces, right? There were already tooth holes, so with luck and if it was ripe enough, the fruit's flesh would split right apart with enough pressure. After planting his staff-cane under his armpit to avoid falling over, Flare took either side of the bitten apple and pulled. RIPPPP
Two halves of apple now. The seeds prominant and the stem falling away without anything to cling onto. Now he could take a proper bite. And by a proper bite, half the apple is popped into a waiting, eager maw. Chomp. Chomp. Chew, chew. So sweet. Still firm, so not squishy. Squishy apples are only good in baked goods.
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10.20
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Post by Flare on Sept 5, 2019 5:59:22 GMT -6
With the abundance of apple trees, perhaps there were other fruit trees around? His book of plants and trees from being small told Flare of all sorts of trees bearing edible fruit. Even the palms of the desert in the oasises were fruit trees; dropping massive rock-fruits on the heads of unweary travelers. When someone had seen the book's entry on coconuts, they had commented that coconut drops killed people. Terrified, young Flare had avoided being under a palm tree anytime around harvest since then. Or at all. He did not want to be killed by a falling rock-fruit coconut. This was the wrong climate for coconut rock-fruit palms though. Too wet. Not sandy.
Popping the rest of the apple in his mouth, Flare chewed on his snack, rubbing his juice stained hands a bit. The sugars of the juices made his fingers sticky, little rivulets of juice running out of his mouth where his scar cut deep into his jaws.
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11.20
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Post by Flare on Sept 5, 2019 6:05:02 GMT -6
Sticky palms would probably leave some residue on the staff-cane handle, he figured. Swallowing the last of the apple, Flare ran his rough tongue around the inside of his mouth, probing the ridges of his upper jaw, on the inside of the 'lip' of his mouth, finding if any, scraps of apple. Once finished, he inspected his hands, then licked his palms and fingers 'clean'. Like sandpaper licking a snakeskin. Very odd, and his scales upon the hands had an earthy taste. Woody, from whittling down the new staff. Now he could walk and not be as sticky. When he returned to the garden, there was a pump of water the Warden had pointed out for washing and collecting water to water plants with. If there was any water around here, he guessed it might be brackish. Long standing water did not smell or taste good. Which direction to go finding an ancient nyssa...
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Post by Renathan on Sept 5, 2019 6:14:09 GMT -6
  No Nyssa at this moment, but there was a fork in the path. At the fork, someone had placed a straw effigy. A strange glassy eye was located to it's right. Huh, perhaps that is a clue? |
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Post by Flare on Sept 6, 2019 4:53:14 GMT -6
Theoretically, if he went back to the path, he could find his way around the house, all the way around? Not every way is going to get him to the point. No home outside of a noble or a high ranking military name would be boasting such a large house and a large yard, to Flare's thought process. This garden has gone to seed to a point that either the homeowner had passed away or just REALLY wasn't interested in bothering with gardening, having servants or trespassers meandering through the yard. With his cane-staff-whatever in hand, the ssashirk put these thoughts aside, moving back off the grasses onto the gravel path. Actually thats not quite right. Its more of a dirt path, mixed with gravel. Gritty beneath his footpads. There had been only rumors he'd heard rarely about the mansion from the very chatty warden. Of other creatures that lived here on the property. No kidding.
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13.20
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Post by Flare on Sept 6, 2019 5:05:00 GMT -6
In hindsight, Flare thanked old Crannie mentally for deciding to watch over 'the little dearie' so she didn't end up following him out of need. The other cat-thing-plants would be distracted by the noise and the visitor, possibly. Or just plain hide and or ignore her. He could live with that on his conscience. Allowed him the freedom of the search without having to track down a wayward creature since he had literally no way of holding something back, short of catching it (or falling on it as a result). Per chance, this might be better.
Better in terms of finding his way, not quite sure on that part. For there came a fork in the path ahead as Flare backtracked. Now he wished he'd brought extra paper to be mapping out this particular area. Or... wait, was this a strange signpost of sorts?
When buried in his own thoughts...
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14.20
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Post by Flare on Sept 6, 2019 5:13:51 GMT -6
If this was a signpost, certainly not what the drake expected to find. Especially with his height? No, just distracted thinking. Planted at the fork in the path was a... nearly foot tall doll made of straw. Fashioned in the shape of a herdbeast, the 'straw doll's face, ears, neck, tail and limbs were held fast by some darker colored twine. Even for someone who didn't play with dolls, Flare had to appreciate the hard work put into keeping all those straws in line to create this thing. Black buttonlike objects swerved for eyes, and the decoration had two crisp leaves pinned to the head by a sharp stone-pointed pin. A necklace collar of sorts of greenish square stones tipped with red round stones around its neck. Very well crafted indeed.
Was it a signpost? Or just someone's abandoned dolly? He didn't know. For Flare's gaze had been pulled away from the herdbeast dolly to the eye beside it.
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