..And then begins the yapping again. The pup rushes forwards, full of excitement, right up until the leash brings him to heel. Even then, he rises up, pulling forward, barely letting it bother him. The man has to admit, the small thing has plenty of spirit, even after the whole terror-stricken state he got the thing in. Now that the fear seems to have passed, it's almost like the opposite end of the spectrum - some power in the world can only try to contain the thing.
"Settle down," he murmurs, motioning towards the hound with a wave of the hand. "You'll scare all the fish off at this rate." The shadow might not have been even close to the point of accepting him, but at least it knew to be silent about it, one way or another.
As if to prove the words immediately (As fate was want to do), one of the other lines shudders, then spins and the branch it's attached to begins to creak as something pulls on it. The man leaves both pup and shadow to their devices, rushing over to grab the line, loop it around palm and then pull up the catch. In some sense, he doesn't even need to see the fish break the surface before suspicions get confirmation - another of the stubborn rocky things!
This one is splashing even worse than the last one, the slack of the line giving all that much space for it to thrash to. He keeps hold of the line with one hand, but the elbow of the other constantly comes up to block the face from the spray of water. Dea condemno piscis bastardis.. He pulls and manages to yank it closer to the shallows, where it flops around, with in less water to spray at him. With a grunt, he pulls again, this time more towards dry land and moves closer. Holding the struggling fish down with one hand and most of his body weight, he carefully unhooks the lure from it's mouth. The hook of the lure is bent beyond measure, almost halfway dangling, so it's no more use as a tool. He tosses it aside, towards the bag, and picks up the fish.
The struggle is quite real, getting to the water-filled bucket, and very literal. While the courier runs with some short gloves on, the fish is hardly having all that many points to grip to. Most of the process involves a lot of pressure, until he's finally able to dunk it into the water bucket, to rejoin it's rocky friend.
Standing, he lets out another sigh and shakes the hands to his side, water displacing from the soaked gloves. Supposedly the pup's kind is known to be good at fishing. He can't wait for the day where it's actually proven true. The shadow is good for silent company, but if the hound can handle some of these struggling this, all the more easier for him.
It isn't exactly on cue (A few beats pass after the thought has crossed his mind), but the pup settles down and sits down into the grass, still excited, but in that attentive kind of sense, where he doesn't feel a need to bark his head off. The man spares him a look, brow craning, "Miracles never cease." Perhaps he can track down that lizardman again, see if he knows any tips or tricks on how best to train the thing to settle down when it gets too much. In the context of settling, the shadow has once again shifted to the opposite side of the tree now, slowly climbing the trunk towards the branches (Just as well, there's more shade above, even if the murky weather where the sun isn't quite out properly).
Reaching the lines, the man checks them for damage and finds the other ones about as empty - what bait had been laid there hours ago has long since been eaten up without so much as a sound or a motion from them (The fish here certainly know how to be stealthy). He returns to the bags, pausing in his step at the very last second and backtracking a step to pick up the broken hook from the grass. Close call, that one.. the courier had decent soles for constant travel by foot, but even so, would be a shame to ruin them so soon (Especially if it meant ruining the foot inside as well). He places the broken hook back into the box of lures, instead taking out some more of the bait.
Walking down the lines, he strings the bait to each and goes back to the rocks with the net, scattering the rest in the shallows nearby, in case it draws anything all too curious just that bit closer.
The waiting is arduous. Peaceful, but leaving one too many chances to start thinking and not quite getting himself to stop. The low tide of the river leaves many of it's previous runs more shallow pockets of water than rushes, sparkling this way and that in the occasional glint of sunlight. It is a vacation, of sorts, given the remoteness of the location. Unfortunately it doesn't come with much entertainment at the present moment - Watching empty water rush by with neither fishy shadow nor glint of scale is not all that dissimilar to watching plants grow (And he has never been all that good at that, either).
The shadow lurks somewhere in the trees, its green eyes blending more easily into the pale, growing green of the canopy, as spring-time begins to pull itself back into the world. The pup lays his head down, almost in imitation of the man crouching on the rocks, leaning lower to get a better view of the waters below. It would almost be like hiding, if the thing's tail wasn't still waving all over the place behind him, ears high and a certain kind of laying-in-wait type energy ready to betray its need to play at any given second.
Truly, the master hunter, apex predator, and terror of solitary leaves everywhere.
A part of him almost wants to see how long he could keep up the posture, for certain reasons which could be considered 'scientific' (But more accurately would fall into the range of 'entertainment' instead, given its present lack of). It lasts about as long as he does, when he finally shifts his posture to stretch the legs some. No sooner is there motion that the pup jumps up again, yapping excitedly, seemingly thinking this means he'll be coming over. The man stays where he is, settling down into a half-kneel instead, net laid out across his knees as he sighs. So much for the peace and quiet..
At least the pup settles fast enough, going back to laying down, ears perked, tail flipping this way and that, as he waits for the next motion (Now, if only it did that to fish. A yapping pup might be too young to be any good catching them, but sending it careening down the shallows to chase them towards the net and lines is a deviously tempting idea. Of course, the downside to such an undertaking is a very wet and quite smelly pup).
By that point the shadow had inched its way towards the branch with the lines, stopping to settle between a few of the shorter off-shoots.
There is little doubt that the endeavour is intended to bring it as far off the ground as possible, while also keeping both the pup and the man in sight at all times. He has never figured shadows to be the skittish sort (For what do they have to fear? It's not as if they have physical bodies to lose). And yet.
It's not as good at hiding as it seems to think, though. Sitting lazily on the rocks, the man's able to trace its path as soon as it detaches from the main trunk of the tree. The skies might be overcast with some spots of sunlight, but the shadow is pure darkness against a mostly brown-grey tree that barely has any leaves left. And it keeps moving (If you wanted to avoid being spotted, staying still was the way to go. Only time you moved was when not watched). It isn't much entertainment, but it does lead him to follow the branch to the lines and the lines down to the water, where the bobbles are still floating, largely untouched.
And by "largely" it means there's no fish. It doesn't mean they're untouched - Something small is gradually climbing its way up one of the lines, leaving behind droplets of water, as well as slime.
The man watches its slow crawl up the line, before sighing and standing up. He lets the net drop back down to the ground as he passes over to the lines and leans down to pluck the little critter off the lines. Immediately, the thing retreats into its shell, as he turns it over this way and that, but to not shock or surprise - Even here, a snail is still just a snail, it seems. Not made of diamonds, or filled with lava, or any such other sort of arcane nonsense. Although slightly disappointing, there's also an odd sort of comfort in that.. If nothing else, he has living proof that not everything exists as a science experiment. Plus, there's bound to be people even here who might even consider it a delicacy.
He heads over to the buckets and lets the shell drop to the bottom of the water. Given the thing found its way up some hooks, lures, baits and lines, its seeming to be unlikely the fish there would consider it much in terms of food (Plus the sheer size of it would be a mouthful for any of them). But, after a moment of thought, he does place the lid on the bucket, just in case. Climbing the lines is a considerably feat of acrobatics for something that's speed is 1 iph (Inch Per Minute), so a bucket would be hardly a challenge, if left unchecked.
Heading back to the lines, the shadow and pup watch with very different flavours of wariness as he checks them again for any bites.
Oh, there's bites alright - The hooks seem picked clean of any bait left there, with hardly a trace of anything being scratched or caught by them. A look of annoyance crosses the man's face as he mutters, "Deodamnatus.." and is just as quick to remind himself to avoid it. The pup and shadow make no notice, each just as content to stare at him as ever, and fortunately it seems the coast remains otherwise clear of anyone else. He gives an annoyed grunt, more at himself, before leaning down to pull up each of the lines and replace the hooks with the remaining pieces of bait.
It would be wrong to say that they haven't had a fruitive turn of luck with the fish, despite the lack of drama comparative to that cursed manor, but their supplies are starting to get low, so that luck could easily turn once they run out.
Tossing the lines back into the water, he picks up the net and returns to the rocks, choosing a slightly different perch this time (On the very off chance these fish have some form of object permanence for any shadows above the water. For all he knows the ones here could talk, due to the experimenting that goes on all over the place). Settling back down into a half-kneel, he lowers the net into the water, sighs, and starts the staring contest versus the water surface once again.
A creature of some kind seems to have taken a liking to the bait, judging from that little blurry form in the water. It sneaks up very slowly, then suddenly jumps out of the water, snatching the bait and darting off like a rocket.
Well, that sucked. The tricky little thing moved so fast it was impossible to catch, then it was gone. At least it was gone now, so it should be alright to try again.
The man's eyes remain trained on the shallow stream outside their little "tide pool" of rocks, and although he spots the occasional shadow beneath the flickering light there, the slowly creeping shadow beside him goes largely unnoticed. The net moves slowly, trying to encroach on the position of a few of the shadows, only for them to suddenly dart away, aware of the ruse (And certainly having enough object permanence to notice something creeping too close, even if they don't necessarily notice it moving). There's another annoyed grunt as the tail behind to slowly lash behind him, and he pulls the net out to try another spot.
He's too preoccupied with the stream to notice the shadow lurking into the tide pool, and just as well - The lines there are cast with bait, intended to snatch up a prize on their own. The fishy shadow might have even managed to get away completely unnoticed, if not for two pairs of green eyes staring right down at it. One pair belonging to a shadow tangled around the branch where the lines connect, while another belong to the pup who has inched ever closer to the shoreline. Eventually, the leash stops him from getting further, so he leans upward, coming to a stand, ears forward and eyes trained on the little shadow below the water.
Whether the shadow itself is aware of the watchful presence ends up anyone's guess - The scene which unfolds happens too fast to tell even if the man had been paying attention. All he hears is a sudden splash, a sudden bark, the creak of a branch as the leash strains against it, and the soft swoosh of something disappearing from the branch and back into the canopy. Even when his quick reaction makes him turn to look, he only catches the tail-end of the events.
The pup had yanked the branch hard enough to almost bend it, only for gravity to return the favour and yank him back as the branch rights itself, sending the pup tumbling tail-over-legs into the grass away from the water's edge. The shadow in the branches darts away at this sudden motion, disappearing behind the tree. And finally, something glints in the sunlight as a fish jumps from the water, spraying droplets everywhere, yanks the bait fee of the hook it was still attached to, and splashes back down with another cascade of water spraying every which way. And no small one at that.
The man raises an arm to block the splatter from hitting most of him (Instinctual. This method of defence never actually does anything, in truth) and drops the net, causing even more water to splash as it hits the pool.
When all is said and done, the surface of the tide pool ripples with waves remaining from the dramatic unfolding of events, and the man stands, eyes half-lidded and filled to the brim with an equal measure of dejection and annoyance. It isn't that he hates water.. It's actually quite enjoyable (And useful in multiple number of different escape plans), but in this instance being trenched in water means clothes that stick to your body, which is decidedly a not the most comfortable form of attire. And it isn't like he can just remove them to set them to dry neither.. (Thank the Goddess for the small favours that certain paints are waterproof, though).
Finally, he simply swipes his hands through the air a few times, for all the good it does in getting himself dry, and digs the net out from the pool. Right. No more crouching on stones and getting one's self drenched. The net has been given enough of a chance to prove useful and seems to be more trouble than it's worth. So, he tosses it to the ground near their things and takes a few moments to wring as much water from the hem of the shirt and jacket as possible, before checking the lines again. The shadow still refused to show itself, while the pup spent only a quick few minutes rolling back over onto its feet, followed by immediately being distracted by the leash as a new form of toy.
"All this time yapping your head off and this is the warning you give?" he grumbles at the pup, checking each line only to confirm the pre-existing suspicions - Each hook empty, each bait snatched. With another sigh, he stands and begins to untangle them from the branches. It seems that whatever fish exists here doesn't seem all too interested in the traditional bait-and-hook offering when this close to shore, so there's little point in feeding them until they're plump enough to just float to that surface (Although would be convenient if it only were so easy). Heading back to the small box of equipment, he rolls up most of the extra lines and picks up the fishing pole instead.
Somewhere behind him green eyes peer curiously, yet cautiously at this new unfolding of events. Perhaps there's a spark of hope in the shadow that they might be turning to leave, but it's quashed the moment the man begins to extend the pole and begin attaching the extra piece of line. No, seems that they're staying for longer, just the method has changed with the madness here.
It takes some time to get everything properly attached, no least of which due to him trying to remember how all of these hooks and loops and line running worked exactly.
It's not that he has never fished. He has, it's something of a requirement if you're looking to survive out in the wilderness on your own, far from any civilization (Or even close to civilization. Sometimes in civilization, not all river-running towns were picky), but the fishing poles he's used to using haven't been quite so, ah.. elaborate. More the traditional "stick and thread with hook" sort. This one looks like it could be brandished as a weapon, if you were creative enough. But like as not, even if it takes time, logic follows a familiar path and he eventually figures out how to properly string the thing.
Or, well, close enough. The important part was the hook and the bait, anyway.
With the pole ready, he walks past the pup and shadow towards a patch of grass beside the trees and rocks, eyes out across the low-tide stream. The mouth slightly pulls to the side at the sight - It's not like the river is currently running very deep or even wide, but they would have to make do. Practising a few warm-up throws, careful to avoid the hook snatching his neck or head in the process, he finally casts the line as wide as he can, watching it blop roughly into the middle of the river. And now begins a different type of waiting, but one where he's much further away from the waterline (And thus any dangers of being splashed again).
Zenjesi: Hey Silv - how do you pronounce Kodakai?
Nov 17, 2023 18:23:56 GMT -6
Twilight-Claw: Not to mention the baby mosca with wolf skin from Elvye and the sparkling owl of Xentus. <3
Nov 14, 2023 10:27:52 GMT -6
Twilight-Claw: I like the Donnor one not just with looks FF, but the description, funny as heck.
Nov 14, 2023 10:26:27 GMT -6
Zenjesi: yours both made me laugh, FF! They're very expressive
Nov 13, 2023 21:57:46 GMT -6
Fiera Ferella: Woooow Twilight, I love that witch drawing!!! :0 It's so pretty! And Zenjesi I think Spectral is my favorite out of yours lol. Just looks happy to be included. and silver now i wanna know which pets youd pick for the other legendary beasts. XD
Nov 13, 2023 21:37:45 GMT -6
Silver: Ah I'm so glad you guys enjoyed it! I love everyone's drawings they're all so cute. ;o;
Nov 13, 2023 17:31:37 GMT -6
Twilight-Claw: I like that one as well yeah, loved the old nootnoot image from quest prizes, so that one went perfectly with that particular costume being based around it. X3
Nov 13, 2023 15:23:13 GMT -6
Twilight-Claw: The jewelry on tail or at the head definitely tends to be their most recognizable feature for a Mosca, and sadly their pharaoh chin piece as well. XD
Nov 13, 2023 15:21:07 GMT -6
Zenjesi: Your peanut costume is hilarious and adorable too!
Nov 13, 2023 15:14:29 GMT -6
Zenjesi: Yes you're correct! I guess I did a decent enough job with the drawing!
Nov 13, 2023 15:05:27 GMT -6
Twilight-Claw: It still looks good on Synkka. She is a shaman Mosca I'm guessing? Its mostly the tail that makes me think of it.
Nov 13, 2023 15:00:42 GMT -6
Zenjesi: I definitely like Spectral's the most too! I sort of cheated by drawing Synkka with a cloak because I do not know how to draw feathered wings, haha ^^'
Nov 13, 2023 13:45:15 GMT -6
Twilight-Claw: Which one do you like the most out of the three you made?
Nov 13, 2023 12:09:48 GMT -6
Twilight-Claw: Thanks for that compliment! Though I know with the water it doesn't look entirely great, I love the latter one I made the most.
Nov 13, 2023 12:09:30 GMT -6