A weight is added to each line, along with a very careful fumbling of a hook. Unfortunately the courier isn't one to run around in heavy leather gloves, so the fingerless ones are the best he could do. It also left the fingers quite exposed to any accidental stabs from said hooks. He could be careful and precise with his hands when needed, but some of the hooks seem almost more intent to trapping the handler of the line more than the fish it's intended for. Not to mention the lures, whose whole purpose is to hide the hook as much as possible.
This time around he's lucky enough to avoid a prick, perhaps more out of practice for the task than anything else. He tosses the lines into the shallow pool and returns to the toolbox, where the shadow has since slinked to another hiding place. Where some might find it annoying (And, if he's being honest, so did he, initially) he has since begun to appreciate the opportunity to train his spotting ability with the beast.
From the corner of the eye, he thinks to have spotted the pair of green eyes in the shadow of the bucket, low and deep in the grass, but none the less distinctly unable to cram all of it within that one shade. The creature isn't a fluid, for it doesn't have physical form, and yet it does seem to have dimensions, even if they're not constrained to any one specific shape. A few times he's managed to catch it off guard, swiping a hand through it only to be met with thin air. Colder air, but still incorporeal. (He's unsure of the exact possibilities inherent in that, but it's certainly a fascinating factor to consider).
"If you're going to be hiding all day, you might as well jump in the water," he rumbles low, unfolding the fishing rod from its collapsed state. "Might actually scare some fish my way." There is no answer, of course, but he knows better now - These shadow things? They're smart.
A lot of things haven't quite gone according to plan or anticipation since he arrived at the City, but even he didn't expect to be outright talking to beasts so soon into living here. One-way conversations with creatures of middling understanding at best, downright incomprehensible at worst, with only a few rare cases where true brilliance is shown (And a few others that seem to come with mind-reading abilities). Most of the local denizens didn't seem to be bothered by the sliding scale of intelligence - They would talk to their beast regardless of if they understood or not.
The courier finishes readying up the rod and grabs a small blue box from the bag, standing. He gives the shadow one last questioning look, "So, you coming or not?" but doesn't wait for an answer. (Just because others did it didn't mean he had to coddle the thing in the process). The man walks over to one of the taller shore boulders and sits down, hooking a worm onto the line and casting it out into the river.
It's a few worms down the line (Mostly snatched by the stealthy little slippery bastards) before the corner of his eye catches movement again - The shadow creeps from bucket to tree, then zig-zags between a few solitary rocks, before finally reaching the larger boulder and settling at its deepest darkest part of the base. He gives a short chuckle, leaning against the knees as he adjusts the line in the water. (All the power of incorporeality in the world and the thing is still afraid of the physical world). "Decided to join after all, huh?"
There is purpose to the previously-perceived madness. He certainly hasn't found himself in need of a conversational companion all of a sudden (Over a decade too late for that. Sufficiently pliable minds can adjust to just about anything, and he's nothing if not versatile), nor is the shadow a specific target of any cathartic jeering (But we all have to start somewhere, now don't we).
No, the purpose is quite clear. He has been doing some reading up on things in the meantime and discovered quite a few interesting little pieces of information.. (On all of them, not just the shadow, although the shadow certainly intrigued in a specific kind of way). Turns out that some of the smart ones could learn to comprehend. Not just understand a few words here and there, but to actually apply them. (And with something that can phase through solid objects, that wasn't an opportunity that should easily be left to waste).
But.. there's a catch. It's too frightened to make a meaningful connection, and before the whole comprehension part comes an endless need for repetition. 'Talking to it', 'conversing with it', 'allowing it to observe, learn and apply meaning to words'. And thus, he's forced to adopt a kind of madness that seemed senseless before, as he sits on a rock, tending a fishing line, while occasionally talking to a shadow that is equal parts reclusive as it is clingy.
It's amusing, in a way - Past him would have been absolutely baffled at this. (Then again, there were a lot of past him's and not all of them were exactly in a position to talk. And some past him's could have used a speech-comprehending shadow beast to avoid making the choices they had instead). The thought doesn't get much further than that, as the line on the fishing rod begins to roll, alerting him to something being caught on it.
The attention shifts immediately towards the water, seeing the point of where the line cuts through it circle and twist back and forth, pulling stronger with a will. It takes him a second to realize it's not some discarded piece of log (As has happened plenty times before) but something actually moving - Something living, finally hooked. As he begins to reel it in, the fish gets brought closer to the surface, skipping and jumping as it splashes around frantically.
It's not exactly large, but it's certainly giving the line a fight, so much so that he has to brace a foot against a forward facing rock, just to balance a bit better against the pull. "Come on, you.." he grumbles, as the reel drags it closer to the shore, "It's just a bit of dry land, you don't even have to see it long." Unlike any previous times in his life, the folks here seemed to appreciate living fish a lot more than dead cold ones, so getting them ashore and into the bucket as fast as possible is becoming a fast-learned skill. So, in a sense, it could be said the fish isn't exactly having to fight this for life and death (But much like with people in proverbially similar situations, the fish didn't know that and chose to treat it as such anyway).
Once it finally broke the surface and hit the side of the boulder, he leaned down and snatched up the line by the base of the hook. "Let's get you sorted, before you choke." By this point the shadow is long spooked to the opposite side, as if the splash of water might burn it.
The fish, meanwhile, is doing it's best impression of a belaying pin thrown around in the wind - Flailing about in unpredictable directions while being about ready to knock out anything it hits. Unfortunately for it, the best it can do is just clap against the forearm, and frantically wiggle as the man secures it against the ground with one hand and carefully removes the hook from its mouth with the other. "Just be glad you're lucky to be born these parts," he grumbles, even as the wiggling fish slaps its tail at his arm. (There's not many places where people were looking to keep things more living than dead, even when talking about something as small and insignificant as a fish. He hadn't yet decided if it was a flaw or not).
Finally, he dumps the fish into the bucket, where it splashes around for a few more seconds, before finally settling. "Yeah, see? Whole lot of fuss over nothing." (As much as he'd read about the shadows, it hadn't specified what their hearing range was, so might as well keep things rolling regardless). Inspecting the hook it seems to still be in good order, but the line is a mess and a half, so there's a sigh as he grabs a new roll from the box and gets to work replacing it on the rod.
The tools of the City have a complexness to them only matched by their advancement, compared to what would be considered 'contemporary' in his homeland. Back home the most complicated piece of fishing equipment is a broad wide net, intricate in its loops as much as its size. But a fishing rod is generally little more than a rod with a stationary line at the end. You didn't so much cast a line as cast the rod, for it was nearly twice as tall as a man and the more expensive ones could be about as heavy. This weights-next-to-nothing thin wedge of a contraption is certainly an improvement by comparison, if not for the endless fiddling with the loops and the lines running from tip to reel.
So it takes him a bit of time, but eventually he manages to unspool the old line and respool the new, with only a slightly tattered mess of old line left in a pile next to the box. Not exactly intended as another hiding spot for the shadow, but he needs only glance that way to see it already there. (Fast little bastard).
"Well, enjoy it while you can, cause it isn't going to be staying there forever," he shoots the shadow a side-eye, while reattaching the hook to the line once more. One final check of the components and he gets up, heading back towards the rock.
Hopping up onto it, he resume the same position as before and casts out the line again, trying to get something with any of the last remaining worms. A minute passes and he looks to the right, seeing neon green eyes peer back from a puddle of darkness at the base of the tree. He turns away, back to the line and adjusts it, only to glance over again a few seconds later. The shadow has moved again, several feet closer, this time in the shadow of a smaller boulder. There's a curious crane of the brow at that, and a passing thought about whether the shadow is just bidden to keep close by some strange arcane sense.. or if it's just looking to 'play'.
Which does bring up an interesting point he hasn't yet properly considered.. When researching, it had mostly talked about these larger shadow beasts, fully-grown and much more extensive than this smaller one. And yet the smaller ones were derived from them, some form of arcane 'harvest' or such. So, by virtue, even though they are not ones to grow beyond this scale, perhaps these smaller ones could still be considered 'offspring', more in that child-like sense. (Making it infinitely less sinister by comparison).
The man spends a while pondering this, head leaned against one hand and knee, the line briefly forgotten. Not that it matters, it seems the fish have more a taste for the bait he keeps throwing out than the hook. It's not long before he checks the line only to find it picked clear with nary a bite on the hook itself. There's a grumble, and he tosses the empty worm box back towards their things. Time to switch things up.
The change of the season from last time makes the rivers certainly more lush and full, but even so it's no easy work getting something to hook. He slides down from the boulder, passing the shallow pool in the process and suddenly pauses. There's a few backward steps as the head twists into a small tilt. Some of these stones are not quite like the others.. He leans between the lines, reaching into the water to pull out a grey-ish shape, turning it around in his hands. The shell is too thick to make out whether it's been discarded by a dead creature or clamped tight enough to store something living, but he certainly doesn't mind a catch that literally only requires a hand to grab.
Heading to the things, he places it into the bucket along the way - If the thing lives, it might open up after a time and prove as much. If it doesn't, might still be worth a penny as some form of decoration. Behind him, his short mid-day shadow has a pair of eyes trailing within it among the grass.
There's some careful suffling done among the things in the box, careless enough to shift through things with some abandon, but not so much as to forget there's hooks in some compartments (and other sharp things). No.. No.. Not that one either.. Ah, here we go. Pushing aside a bright green rubber lure, he instead picks out a fuzz-covered hook. If the things are as hungry today as they seem, might as well give them something to really tempt them with. The old hook is detached from the fishing rod's line, and the fuzzy one tied up in its stead.
With that set, he stands and heads back towards the boulders, still mindful of the eyes lurking in his own shadow, even if the shadow might think itself awfully clever for its hiding spot. No point in disrupting its fun for the time being. Both of them are able to enjoy a sense of peace and quiet so long as the pup remains in training, so might as well have the most of it. Sitting down on the boulder, he rolls the shoulders and casts off the line again, settling in for the longer wait.
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