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Post by Kristofor on Oct 24, 2020 6:01:48 GMT -6
No. He wasn't trying at all. All he was doing was gripping the boot with his paw-hand, and BB was doing its damnest to pull the boot away. but being a spook, had no physical strength in itself and was just growling and gripping and doing nothing in sort of it. The red dots for eyes kept glancing at its twin, and back at Dawson. WELL?, it seemed to be trying to say, in body language. Rally hard to tell when there's nothing but bone and mist to look at. bb yapped hollowly, its head finally meeting with the crown of its ribcage to bound forth and collide with the boot. The head didn't fall off this time, it stayed attached to the boot's surface while the body RAN AWAY WITHOUT THE HEAD. COME PLAY, it hollowly howled, nomming on the boot. No tooth marks, no mist drool, just a head, attached to a boot. It did look fun to play tug of war... 85 +1
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Post by Kristofor on Oct 24, 2020 6:09:03 GMT -6
He couldn't help it much, the spooks still spooked; even if they were having fun playing tug of war with his fox. They were playing with HIS FOX. Hang on a moment. Was he being replaced? No. No way. The houlou found his feet at last, slowly getting up. He didn't want to be left out of the fun. He really didn't want to be. But the loose circle of monsters... he glanced at them. They didn't meet his gaze, still cheering on BB's feat of boot-stubbornness. Was his fox even trying? No not at all. His grip was weak. My boot. Its mine, and I found it. I took it. One step forward, then another... bb's head chattering hollowly to come play. Repeately. over and over. I could see a slow movement of brown fur in the corner of my vision, as I held my ground against the black bones. Dawson was getting up. 86
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Post by Kristofor on Oct 24, 2020 6:15:43 GMT -6
It took minutes for the houlou to get close enough to the boot that he grabbed on himself. Long, achingly long minutes. These amatures didn't know tug of war. A hollow bark of protest; they did TOO know tug of war, came from bb. The head chattered again; that most times it was a group effort to get any strength behind it. Animated bones weren't strong; or well organized. Dawson could taste the ash of the ifrit's boot as he tasted the leathers; giving it a tug in another direction. BB growled again, trying to hang onto the boot. His fox didn't release the boot, but actually had to grip on tighter to keep in possession. A four way, two way spook, two way liv'n, tug of war over a boot. The small gaggle of monsters grunted and shrieked for the spook's victory. Had to give it to bb and BB, they were stubborn spooks. 87
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Post by Kristofor on Oct 24, 2020 6:20:24 GMT -6
"There you are!" someone shouted loudly, catching everyone present by surprise. I released the boot, the two spooks lost their grip as a response and rolled back, leaving Dawson pulling on nothing and flopping onto the ground, his mouth full of leather boot. The gaggle of monsters dispursed as quickly as they'd come, fleeing behind the stones. Up the path, hobbling physically, came the 'ifrit', wincing with each hobbled step. He wasn't lying, the humanlike thing with sharp teeth appeared to be physically inept at walking. "Give me back my boot, you thieving dogs." I am a fox, and that is no dog; he is my houlou., I tell him as the pained ifrit makes it up to us, standing again. "Same thing; Boot. please. It hurts like hell to walk wihtout them." He's practically trying to flamingo stand there, its ash gray socks damp with the sharp smell of blood. Dawson gave a yip, bumping my leg with the boot. His tail is wagging. I won!, he seems to say. 88
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Post by Kristofor on Oct 24, 2020 6:27:58 GMT -6
Lets give the nice ifrit back his boot now Dawson; I tell him. The houlou tilts his head, his long ears flopping around. Good boy; give it back; back? Not mine? Its hard to read a dog's head. He's still quite young. "Wow, double whammy much. I just got finished explaining I am NOT an ifrit to that irritating servant bird and he's seeded your head with it too." the boy tosses his hands in the air. "Great. Wonderful. EXCUSE ME for smelling of ash and having a stress issue with my smile. That does NOT have to mean I am a planeless demon." he ranted to the sky. "I'm having a very bad day mr. fox. It would make it mildly better if you would kindly return my boot." I do not have your boot. Dawson does; I point downwards. The hound is standing there, his tail wagging still, the boot in his jaws and pleased as he can be. 89
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Post by Kristofor on Oct 24, 2020 6:34:43 GMT -6
The red eyes glower at me as the stranger crouches down to puppy level, sitting on his butt. I can't see a tail. His breathing sounds a bit harsh. Was he really in that much pain? "Okay doggy. Give me my boot. Please." he offers his hand out to Dawson, for his boot. It had the opposite effect. Dawson could clearly smell the ash; sense the scary... but he dropped into a playful position, seeking to play anyway. Could the scary smelling one play tug of war too? It talked funny and jabbed its hand-paw at him, seeking. Reaching. A tilt upwards of his head, and the fingers caught purchase on the boot. At once, Dawson started pulling on the boot. He wasn't very srong though, and the ifrit-not-ifrit managed to win with a sharp pull back. Yarp! Dawson found himself bootless, and the ifrit with his toy. "Thank you." he pulls the boot on, with trembling fingers. Then offers said ashy smelling fingers to the houlou pup. "Good doggy." A quick glance at me... and Dawson bumps the ifrit's waiting fingers with his wet nose. If that wasn't progress, I can't say what is. 90 +1 -end scary sights-
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Post by Nadia on Oct 24, 2020 11:09:01 GMT -6
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Post by Kristofor on Oct 24, 2020 11:41:09 GMT -6
S-shouldn't you heal your feet up before putting your boot back on?, I ask him with a slight tremble. The ashen shrugs. "Soon as I start walking around, the scabs will just split open again, so... yeah. Thats what a washing machine is for. Toss in the socks and boots and let centrifuge, soap and water do its job." His smile is unnerving, full of sharp teeth, but there is no malice behind those teeth. What is a washing machine...?, he stares at me, the smile dropping in sheer surprise. "You... you don't know what a washing machine is?" he looks...shocked. With the shake of my head, ears slightly tilting downwards, his free hand taps on his knee. Dawson didn't understand what was going on between the ashen and his fox. Taking a gentle grip on the boot again, this time on the foot, he tried to pull it off. Mine? 91
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Post by Kristofor on Oct 24, 2020 11:48:11 GMT -6
My family washed with buckets and scrub-sheets of wood and soap, so no I've never seen or used a washing machine; The ashen's nosed fingers run through his short scruffy hair. "Dang man... er, I mean fox....uh..." how did he address this fox who walked and talked like a person, glancing upwards. Foxman? Those who don't know my name, they just say 'the fox', so 'fox' is enough; "Oh...kay. Dang fox, you haven't heard of a washing machine? Its an electrical human machine; so it washes clothes by itself by supplying water, power and soap. You can run your shoes through too, but it makes a LOT of noise." the ashen describes a metal box with a drum inside that filled with clothes, and water and soap and essentially SHOOK the clothes clean while soaking in hot water and soap bubbles. What a fascinating machine. "Ow. Hey, that's my boot you silly doggy." he wiggled his foot in Dawson's jaws, as he proceeded to pull on it again. "Ah, puppy teeth." 92
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Post by Kristofor on Oct 24, 2020 11:59:59 GMT -6
The woods isn't teeming with lightning boxes. We are a older world group of animals, minimal lights and such with lightning; I had to defend myself just a bit. Humans have built towns outside the woods though, and do use lightning. "Uh, electricity isn't lightning, not specifically. Its harnessed lightning. Lightning is also known as sky fire." Wrapping my mind around the idea of harnessing lightning like that... but then again there was some use of ...electricity; think 1950s human world. No computers though. "Humans invented the washing machine in 1908, so near a hundred years ago." You know quite a bit; I pointed out. Casting my thoughts for another strange device. How about the toaster? "The toaster?" he looks at me like I'm a zoo animal briefly. "1893. Is this just a game to figure out how much human knowledge I know?" You speak as if you aren't one like that.; I can't help myself being a bit of an asshole fox. Giving Dawson a bit of a tug so he wasn't chewing outright on the poor ashen's foot, worrying the leather. 93
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Post by Kristofor on Oct 24, 2020 12:15:05 GMT -6
His fingers steeple together briefly, resting his chin on them, red eyes gleaming with thought. Was that statement that was a question in disguise really make that much of a difference between yes and no? Something clicks; that I smell the same person, but he looks very different, except for the teeth., and point it out. "I made a bet with the crow over a single round of poker. He'd break the stupid freaper's spell and I could go free if I won." So you won; "No, so I cheated." he grins, and shows a sleeve of playing cards. "I think he knows that I cheated, or is just bad at cards. The one thing the perfect servant isn't perfect at, is cheating at poker." I'll have to keep that in mind. "Broke the spell so no more walking around like the freaper in red." Something in my instinct warned me the ashen just got let off the hook rather then genuinely allowed to cheat. "Can you please get your dog off my foot, his teeth are wearing a hole in my boot." 94
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Post by Kristofor on Oct 24, 2020 12:25:29 GMT -6
I have to draw Dawson in from his chewing and distract him. The little houlou whines as I gather him up into my arms, pawing at my ears. I am sorry; I just got him recently; I have to apologize for the pup's antics. The ashen shrugs. "He's a dog; dogs chew things, especially shoes. Those puppy teeth do fall out; just like our baby teeth and... uh...?" Yes, our fox teeth do fall out as cubs as we grow up; I sigh a bit. was it that hard to wrap his head around? "Right right." the ashen scratches his head with an embarassed smile. "You're the first well... animal guy I've ever seen in my life. So... I don't know how to talk to you." A good start is face to face instead of looking up constantly; I point out. He nods and gets to his feet, bracing against any folding of his bad feet. Respectfully, I offer my arm so he can get up. "Thanks fox guy." 95 +1
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Post by Kristofor on Oct 24, 2020 20:23:32 GMT -6
"a fox owning a hound; never would really see the day." the ashen gave my arm a light jab once standing on his own two feet. It still hurt it seemed, even with 'scabs' that I hadn't initially seen. What was he doing, walking on eggshells first barefoot? What tender feet humans possessed. Ok, my own pawpads are still pretty sensitive but not THAT- A memory of getting curious on what the local human ice cream parlor was selling on a hot summer day, and I had to cross the road in broad daylight. I was laid up for a week, for burning and tearing up my pawpads. And THAT HURT. Is it that unusual...? yes. It is. Foxes and hounds are natural enemies outside of territory. The deeper darker parts of the woods where humans hunt us animals for our skins and meat or for sport. I won him at the costume party raffle; I tell the ashen. His shaggy lookign dark eyebrows raise into his bangs. 96
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Post by Kristofor on Oct 24, 2020 20:28:31 GMT -6
He wanted to correct the fox quite badly. The ashen had indeed been to the party, hiding his face and his feet and keeping to the edges. It wasn't the puppy he won, but a token to redeem a puppy. Someone apparently chose to redeem it for him and then deliver the live animal instead. Raffling off animals left a raw burning spot in his stomach. But the fox and the hound seemed to be oblivious to the absurdity of their relation. A fox OWNING a hound. "Aren't dogs and foxes mortal enemies?" he asked, stupidly. The fox shrugged, tilting his head to avoid his ear being the next chew toy. I have no qualm specifically with dogs; we are taught to avoid dogs as cubs. They have a prey drive to chase us.; the fox says. "So... this doesn't bug you at all?" a shake of that dark furred head. "Huh. You're really brave or seriously out of the loop." 97
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Post by Kristofor on Oct 24, 2020 20:32:57 GMT -6
Ok, Dawson's fascination with my ears is going south fast. I put him back down carefully where the puppy tumbles around in the dirt, and tries to eat his own leash. No longer spooked to the enth degree, I might stand a chance of being able to walk him now. It is a stereotype that foxes and hounds can't get along. He does not seem interested in chasing me; I point out to the ashen. "But... he's still a pup. Doesn't recognize the smell of fox and such." Then when he smells fox, it will mean friend rather then to chase; I tell him in return. "You've got your work cut out for you then, fox guy. I've not been good with animals. They smell how ashy and burny I smell and run away." he looks kind of sad. "At least thats been the last couple of years. Used to be real good with animals." You are not born with your bad feet? 98
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