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Post by Alma on Mar 10, 2021 0:15:20 GMT -6
The scales on top of the egg had been real minerals, hadn’t they? Not just some painted glitter to make the egg look a bit more attractive, or so she had thought when she was oh so carefully moving it around. The idea took shape in her mind as she let the lid softly down, not wanting to startle the repointe again and risk him kicking the nearby pieces of shell. “Wasn’t there a species or two that ate their shell? Had some nutrients or something in’em?”
The repointe made no sound of reply.
He did not even do the strange little jump as she neared him, watching her with his wide eyes from behind the fluff of his tail. The fragment she had claimed earlier forgotten, she reached for the mostly still intact upper piece of the shell, the one that looked more like a gemstone artichoke scale than a living creature’s egg.
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Post by Alma on Mar 10, 2021 0:15:31 GMT -6
The scaled portion of the egg in hand, she lifted closed to her eyes, looking over the stones for any sign that they were fake. The stones looked flawless, not that she could tell much from what she could see, and a tap through the gloves failed to do more than prove they existed. “Turquoise?” she asked him as she worked her fingers around one scaled edge, trying to wiggle the stubborn thing free like a tooth. “Nah, probably not. Maybe hema-something? That blue?” He gave no response other than to waggle his ears at some far off roar, ears swinging back to her as she asked, “You going to be picky about the rock, aren’t you?”
She let the shell fall back to the ground, staring at the gem-ridden shell as if it was some fancy math puzzle, then, with a sigh, brought her boot down on top of it.
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Post by Alma on Mar 10, 2021 0:15:47 GMT -6
It shattered as easily as a thin sheet of ice, the bits of shell and gems grinding beneath her boot as she twisted it to make sure. The repointe had spasmed at the impact, launching himself sideways away from the egg as though he had expected an explosion where there was only the cracking of the shell.
She bent down and scooped up the stones, pleased to find them still in their scaly shape, plucking one from the sole of her shoe that had locked its thorn in the rubber. Tough stones usually meant they were less valuable, right? Easier to smash a wall and nab them then spending an hours carefully chiseling them free. Which meant, if the repointe that was slowly rolling himself back into his little ball turned up his nose at the free lab gems, she would have an easier time feeding him the right rocks.
Or was that plants?
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Post by Alma on Mar 10, 2021 0:15:58 GMT -6
“Well, you were free at least,” she reminded herself as the gemstone scales made a disappointingly small weight in her hand. “And you’ll make me some credits from the pit, right?” She smiled at him, and he kicked out in a panic again. “Well, once we get that fixed right? Strong arm’s about one of the few gifts I got.”
The gem scales were carefully laid within the cooler, either to add to her collection later or feed the repointe if he turned out picky. “Machalite?” she muttered as she dropped the last of the stones, tilting her head to the side like a vulticus as she grabbed at a fresh, cold piece of meat. “Could be. Might have some lying around-” The words cut off as she turned around to find her repointe was no longer doing just that. He stood, no, walked, on four shaky legs as fast as he could away from her, ears swiveled back towards her.
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Post by Alma on Mar 10, 2021 0:16:08 GMT -6
Alma could have caught him.
Having just hatched so recently, even if he was not a species meant to be hatching from eggs, she was reasonably sure she could have jogged over and carried him back in less than a handful of seconds. Mortavos’s eye, she could have caught him with a half-loud shout to send him flopping in the grass if she wasn’t in the mood to move her legs. Rather than do any of that. she just said, “Well. Legs work I guess. Don’t think it’ll be enough though.”
He was not inclined to agree, racing along at his newfound speed of a brisk walk as he tried to find a safer place to curl up and hide. The metallic smell of meat from behind him set his stomach to growl and rumble, but it was not the warm smell of fresh, bloody meat. It was wrong, and so he walked as hard as he could until the fuzzy thing in front of him jumped into focus.
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Post by Alma on Mar 10, 2021 0:16:22 GMT -6
His muscles stiffened as the thing appeared and blocked his path for as far as his eyes could see, the smell of dead trees coming to him as he hopped and fell on the grass.
Alma laughed, watching the frozen repointe as he suddenly kicked back to life. “Ah, yes. Fences are bleeding terrifying, and this one has us surrounded. Bad news for you, huh?” The repointe stared at the fence with his giant eyes as she struggled back onto his feet, but his ears faced her. They never moved from her as she talked, watching the repointe’s steady progress as he walked along the fence, pressing his small body against it as if to fit between the slats of wood. “Won’t work, you’re a bit fat for that.”
He circled the entire perimeter that way, fainting only once more as the unyielding wall gave way to the slightly less firm gate, the rattle and sudden lack of pressure sending him sideways.
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Post by Alma on Mar 10, 2021 0:16:34 GMT -6
“There’s a latch. Not sure hooves will help you with it, not even if you weren’t a wiurn’s snack-size,” she told him after another bout of laughter, but he was already on his way again. The rest of his search went uneventfully, and she took to cutting the meat into smaller pieces with her knife, a dull thing that left her thinking it would have been better to pull apart the meat by hand. She was just about to move onto a new piece of meat when his legs folded under hm, and he curled up with his back pressed tightly against the wooden fence. “You done? Or are you trying to hide like a galabex fawn?” He only tucked his tail over his eyes in response.
“Alright. Enough of this.” She started walking towards him, nice and slow with a handful of shredded meat. “Here you are, just hatched, and wandering and fainting all over the place. Now, I’ve never hatched,” something she was absolutely sure of, though the thought gave her a chuckle, “but with all the other stuff piled on, you’ve gottah be starving, right?”
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Post by Alma on Mar 10, 2021 0:16:44 GMT -6
He did not flee or kick-faint as she reached him, nor as she squatted a few feet from his still form. “Listen up. You’ve got some time, being a hatchling ‘n all, and the tournament is not for a while yet.” One gloved hand picked through the bits of meat held by the other, selecting a disgustingly slimy pink piece. “You’ll still need to get used to me, and you’ll need to eat.” The hand with the single piece was held out towards him, palm down, She dropped it on the grass near his head, only the twitch of his ears betraying that he was not locked up as he had been the other times. “Not going to ask you start eating out of the palm of my hand yet,” she said, tossing a few more pieces of meat down with the first, then closing her hand over the remaining chunks. “But you’ll need to eat something, and all you’ll find here is grass.”
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Post by Alma on Mar 10, 2021 0:16:55 GMT -6
He did nothing. For all her chatting, and the pieces of bloody meat that were in snapping range if he would just uncurl from his little ball, he refused to move an inch. After a few minutes, her knees began to twinge, a sign of older age that snatched away any remaining patience she might have had, and she stood up. “I’m going to move back then. Gotta book to look over, things to do that aren’t, you know,” she waved a hand in the direction of the curled repointe. “Going to leave some more meat, let me know when you’re done.” With that, she walked back to the cooler and supplies, letting chucks of meat fall from her gloves in a small trail.
The last chunk was dropped next to the cooler, and she sat beside it, pulling out a small book as she leaned against the hard plastic. A glance in the direction of the repointe showed he had yet to move.
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Post by Alma on Mar 10, 2021 0:17:05 GMT -6
“Feelin’ a bit insulted that you’d rather starve than eat this stuff,” she told him as she wiped away the meat-slime on the grass. “I mean, it’s not livin’ stuff, no offence but I’m not the kind who likes snapping grubble necks. They’re cute, ya’know? Little pudgy balls of warmth, they don’t bite even if you pick them up and snuggle! Not made to be death machines, kind of sad they can’t learn a name. Anyhow,” she flapped the book in the air as she circled back to her original train of thought, trying to find where it had left the tracks. “This meat is fine. Butcher said it was fresh enough for me, though I’d cook it first, never know what sickness you can get, or if a pure can cure-” She laughed, “Pure can cure, that’s a good rhyme. Right, so this meat is fine.”
Her words did little more than her smile did little to uncurl the little ball of fluff.
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Post by Alma on Mar 10, 2021 0:17:17 GMT -6
“Well,” her smile falling to a more neutral expression, “I’ll leave you to it then. Just going to read a bit while you decide you’re hungry enough, or the labs impression thing happens.” A thought struck her, and she gnawed on her lower lip. “New labs still do the impression thing, right? Know you’re not meant to be hatched, and they made those freakish enileaf-like things that they warn people twist the owner’s minds but still put them out. They might be changing things. Eh.” She shrugged, flipping to the marked page in the book. “Got my back to the cooler, and I’m pretty sure if I scream you’ll take yourself out. Better I get you used to me now, even if you are a bit scared, than get gored later.” That, and she expected it would be a great deal more annoying to give up pretty gems for the repointe to eat if she was just going to have to skin it for a coat later.
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Post by Alma on Mar 10, 2021 0:17:29 GMT -6
The book was not a particularly good specimen of its kind, too thin to be mistaken for a tome of any real importance even if the two fancily dressed folks plastered on the paper cover failed to scare away any respectable readers. Alma took a second to look it over, looking from the fine dresses that barely seemed able to contain the ones wearing them to her own shapeless clothing. Thinking back to the promise of the scroll that the beast she was carefully ignoring was a cruel and sly predator, she shrugged and flipped it open to the first page.
Many counts of strange comparisons, such as “Eyes as green as the remains of an acid golem’s embrace?” and heaving buxoms later, Alma had ceased to ignore the young repointe so much as completely forget about him. She read the book with an occasionally gasp, and sometimes a laugh as she repeated a line aloud, “Howling within her like a starving vulticus, filled with-HA! What?”
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Post by Alma on Mar 10, 2021 0:17:42 GMT -6
The young repointe had no such entertainment. He held himself still as he knew he must, to hide as well as he could from the loud weird thing, but his gut seemed intent on giving away his hiding place. He could smell the strange meat, saliva dripping from his mouth as he tried to ignore the gnawing hunger. He knew it was still out there. He could hear the odd rustling sound it made in between bouts of louder noises. He would not move. His instinct kept him as still as a stone.
But hunger was not keen on being sidelined, and it slowly pushed at instinct until it was all he could do not to leap up and consume until his body burst.
He settled on a compromise. Knowing the weird thing was still in the same spot a short distance away from the rustling, he peeked his head past his tail with the speed of a glacier carving out a valley.
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Post by Alma on Mar 10, 2021 0:17:54 GMT -6
The smell of meat grew stronger, the metallic scent no longer nearly as noticeable now that his stomach threatened to gnaw its own way out and eat it. The mouth opened just as slowly as the rest of him had moved, revealing pointed teeth that might have brought some hope to Alma had she bothered to look over to him. Then, with the edge of his muzzle pressed against the bit of flesh, the meat was suddenly gone. Licking his chops, he extended his neck once more, this time with the visible speed of sap running down the side of a tree. That piece vanished just as quickly as the first, and was soon joined by a third as his neck reached its limit.
More. Instinct had sided with hunger, and he licked at the next piece, getting only the decidedly less appetizing taste of green grass for his troubles, spitting out a loose leaf that had returned with his tongue.
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Post by Alma on Mar 10, 2021 0:18:04 GMT -6
More. Instinct warned him, cautioned him to move as little as possible, so he tried to scoot along the grass towards the next piece of meat, hind hooves pressed firmly against the firm wood behind him as he pushed. This was enough to net the fourth piece, and he inhaled it just like the others, not bothering to spit out the blade of grass that clung to it. The fifth was beyond even this great distance however, and an odd, slow flailing of his limbs, like a salaves that had never figured out how the whole slithering thing worked, failed to push him any closer.
During his journey, the weird one had kept up her cycle of rustling and other noises, one punctuated by such a forceful “HA!” that his limbs locked and the world vanished for a few seconds. But he did not hear her moving, no sound of grass being crushed under a heavy foot, only those he had come to expect in the same place as before.
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