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Post by Èdan on Nov 30, 2022 5:21:19 GMT -6
Where some might find the dramatic series of accusations mixed with disbelief, mixed with what feels like a odd manner of motivational speech (If one was very loose with the word "motivation") to be irritable or tiresome, the courier doesn't seem phased by any one salted or otherwise word directed towards him, or his beliefs. It's truly a miracle how easily one can keep their composure when they're not being directly threatened by snarling beasts, merely a teenager with high expectations, a lot of guts, and a dash hope. Not necessarily a bad thing, mind, the world also needs people of hope. (It just doesn't have to be everyone).
"Don't know much about the sea, never got around to it," the courier shrugs, looking as content as ever in his seat on the rock, only occasionally dragging the cast line back a little bit to keep it centred in relation to them, rather than let it drift too far down river. "Problems, though? There's enough of them to go around for everyone, so its best to let the people who like 'em, deal with 'em. Not my area of expertise." Which is true, from the courier's perspective - dipping in and out of different lives on errand runs get glimpses to any one thing or another, and the method to survive is to make sure your eye is blind, you ears deaf and your mouth shut. It's professional courtesy, if anything.
Which isn't to say the girl's wonderfully colourful approach to literal death doesn't bring up concerns of its own (And several topics of existentialism that he's not sure are sane to contemplate). He knows about the Temple and the work that goes on within, sure (But it still feels a little too good to be true, a gift with strings, or not quite as simple as that. And when one hinges their very existence on it, can they be blamed for not wishing to find out?)
At the foreign swearing, there's a blank look and a simple if not confused "Bless you," by means of response, before he follows up with, "I don't ask, and the river just has them. What, they don't got river pearls where you're from?" (They don't, but it pays to ask and see).
The problem with the pup is that his sense of "personal space" encompasses the better part of a five foot radius, and anyone within it is just considered a part of it. As such, he's not too good at the whole "reading discomfort" part of communication (As evidences all the times he's given grief to his caretaker in one manner of childish wonder or another). The head perks up, with one ear raised and another flopping, as he watches the gallor turn into a brief whirlwind..
..and that looked funny. With the spark of an idea best described "poorly constructed cause and effect", the pup suddenly throws his head into the sand in front of him and pushes it up and into the air with his nose, casting more at the gallor, very much in an ill-tempted means of going 'do that again'.
. 8 . Percy: 47 (3/5) Dry Season: 16
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Post by Syd on Dec 1, 2022 23:36:40 GMT -6
There’s a shrug, paired with a long-suffering sigh. “Look, I know lot’sa people are into them soups in life ‘stead a good fish with all th’ tiny bones you gotta take out ‘cause it’s easier an’ all that …” The teenager leans over in her standing position, letting her hands on her thighs hold up her weight as she wheezes like a balloon forlornly losing its air and laments, “Gods but there’s so many soup people y’know? So many.”
At this juncture, it might still appear incredibly unclear to an outside party as to what this devil-lass was hoping to get out of this escapade. Spoils of an activity she took no part in? Practicing her general harassment techniques? Surprise therapy? How could anyone know, when an argument could be reasonably made that she knew least of all?
(Inwardly, there is a pout floating in the place Java normally brushes up against; no chaperone also meant no one to commiserate this, so that pout very naturally found its way to her physical expression as well. It’s never fun when a set-up leads to no pay-off, whether it be a lack of stolen goods in her possession or another identifying tidbit to add to the pile.)
“And nah,” she replies as she straightens up again with the weariness of one five times her age, “least I’m fair-sure not. Better on th’ coast anyhow - y’get your fish ‘an pearls an’ ships with far-things. Anything in-ways …” there is a pause here, as her tone cools not by degrees but in an almost lateral direction, sliding into a place neither here nor there that teetered just on the flat edge of off-putting; “...ain’t worth th’ time’a day, really.” The finality in it suggests the existence of something that does not wish to be told or spent breath on; quite at odds with the impression she gives most people, which is that she is incredibly capable of Rambling Your Ears Off if she’s in the mood to.
A dozing drej stills his breathing for just a moment as a prickling echoes from what has turned into the half of his whole. He raises his head to scent the air, dragging in smells that had been muted by his girl’s as she sprawled over him. The moving water, the growing of things close by, the small one that was Theirs and the small one that was Not - but there should be another, the one who brought it - nostrils tucked beneath a plate of bone flare out wide as muscles snap tight with purpose. There was a reason the seeker relented and allowed Stack to stand in for him, and it is not because the drej was known for his logical thinking in the face of conflict. Quite the opposite.
(In the mid-ground, a shrill squawk is heard as a pair of juvenile wings launch - what could only be described as a glittering pom-pom from a distance - on a trajectory that would land it on top of the hopping dragon-dog’s back in a shower of granular particles and pint-size indignation. Naturally, one could only assume the bonding process was going well.)
Dry Season: 17 Syd: +4.5 Stack: lvl56 (2/5) / lvl57 (2/5) Doc: lvl1 (4/5) / lvl3 (4/5)
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Post by Èdan on Dec 2, 2022 3:31:47 GMT -6
The courier's head remains half-cocked between her and the line, eyes watching her theatrics with mild interest, but keeping tabs on any changes in the line within the peripheral at the same time. And what theatrics they are, too..
There's a common misconception that people who are highly emotional wear their hearts on their sleeves, out in the open for the world to see. No secrets, no subterfuge. To be sure, it can be true in some instances, as with all things, but far too many people fail to realize that having an open and loud front can be every bit as much of a mask as the complete lack of expression (It all comes down to what you want others to see, to cover for what should never be seen. A game of balancing that with your actual self, sometimes letting more rise to the surface than not). And it seems the girl's frustrations let something seep through those cracks, letting him see more the core than the façade for the first time since their meeting (Good, now we're getting somewhere).
The brows do a brief rise and fall with a slight tilt of the head, the international gesture to indicate 'fair enough'. Something could be said about the favoritism of soups not necessarily casting bad light on the fish-bone people (But he suspects that's not something that necessarily needs encouragement. Enjoying the rush of trouble is one thing, actively seeking it out on a constant basis tends to be bad for one's health, so it's really doing her a favour if one thought about it).
But at the answer to his question, there's a brief quizzical look. "I can respect that. Though.." the usual quick lilt of the courier's speech slows down somewhat, "If ya don't mind me asking, sounds like you had everything ya needed over there. What made you come to a whole other continent, and so far in-lands no less?" The hand makes a vague gesture at the very central wooded planes and rocky canyon surrounding them. "Sure, the lake traffic still seems some ships come and go with cargo, but I doubt they got the same type of fancy stuff those ocean runners do."
The pup's mind sparked a new found enjoyment of this.. somewhat 'make-shift' game. With the gallor's launch, he springs backwards, still landing in that same 'fore-legs down, tail high' pose, and back once more, in case the gallor decides to do a follow-up lunge. Was this to be a chase? He gives a high-pitched bark at the fluffy one, legs variously tapping the ground as if ready to bolt as soon as the gallor makes a sign of following after.
. 9 . Percy: 47 (4/5) Dry Season: 18
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Post by Syd on Dec 3, 2022 21:25:39 GMT -6
“Bein’ better’n the rest don’t make it good - but anywhere here’s better’n back there, trust me. Might as well have a change’a pace while’r at it.” (As well as follow the pockets of others. Always follow the pockets of others; the more the merrier.) And she opens her mouth again, her far-away look and pointedly unaligned gaze sliding into a more narrowed focus as she seems to be on the brink a more direct question for him -
Which is of course when Stack makes himself known.
Now, drej weren’t known for being exceedingly graceful, so the act of getting to their feet (leg ends? Bone stilts? We may never know) wasn’t exactly a typically stealthy process. The whisper and grinding of shifting sands accompanied his upwards ascent, as did a healthy and unhappy snarling from deep within his gullet. Even the clattering of bones sounds more violent than before as he lines up his bearings to the target in question, an agitated cacophony filling the air with every shift of muscle as he prepares to hurtle himself forward and lunge in between the two humanish.
And poor Doc, upon hearing and being quite close to this impending doom, shrills out a terrified sound before pressing flat to the ground and making a valiant effort of using his too-short-wings to cover his head.
With only the shortest of sighs and the bare-minimum turning-of-head needed to see her pricker bush proper, Syd lets her eyes fall to half-mast in a ‘Don’t Even Think About It’ expression and uses her chest to project clearly:
“No, Stack.”
The way his neck crumples back on itself in indignation is both worrying concerning the integrity of his spine and not a small amount of baffling considering the size differential of the two standing off. Her boy can feel her disapproval despite being unable to detect the finer details of her expression, and his internal bewilderment is only met with a doubling down of the sentiment on her end. The next command he is given is not immediately followed and is instead swapped out for a several tense beats of stillness, before his capitulation is carried out with all the ruffled pride of an obedient but displeased child who clearly thought their caretaker had mentally jumped off into the deep end with not a flotation device in sight.
Her head swivels back around, just enough for one of her reflective discs to catch both of Aedryn’s own, her tone dryer than a collection of bones abandoned in the desert.
“You were saying?”
Dry Season: 19
Syd: +5 Stack: lvl56 (3/5) / lvl57 (3/5) Doc: lvl2 (0/5) / lvl4 (0/5)
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Post by Èdan on Dec 4, 2022 5:38:51 GMT -6
It's not often he ends up getting more than he bargained for (Which is a lie onto itself, it's actually more common that he'd prefer and certainly more troublesome than he'd like), and in this case the scene unfolds in a multitude of layers that each could have a number of questions to follow-up with. Even the courier would be familiar with some of the less nice details of certain rumoured invasions, about a place largely run by humans who aren't too kindly towards the idea of a non-human. But, with taking in her appearance, the girl could have easily passed for just that, with a clever application of a spacious hat and maybe glasses (Or a third option, once used, though those discs are a bit too silvery to rightfully pull that gambit off).
And yet, it seems no-one can truly escape the sheer hateful touch of the place.
Before he's able to answer, the spiky one makes itself known, in a manner that doesn't leave anything to question in terms of its motives (And likewise a manner that's all too familiar when it comes to beasts and first impressions. The only shocking part was that it took this long). The courier does straighten as the drej grows louder and meaner, that barest of seconds away from what is a toss-up between a roar or a lunge (Neither of which the courier's much equipped to deal with). Subtly and slowly the hand that previously indicated towards the hills drops to the couriers side, hovering near the edge of a knife hilt beneath the vest - Just because the courier isn't equipped to deal with it doesn't mean he's not going to try.
Even the pup seems to flatten out against the sands, as this strange thing suddenly rumbles to life using all the wrong kinds of noises to his simple pup mind. Fortunately for everyone involved, the pup doesn't quite make the connection as to who this is all directed at, and merely remains confused and startled off to the side.
But the girl settles the beast in what looks to be just a word, the courier's eyes moving between the retreating drej and her, the slightest furrow of a brow indicating the break in the usual calm, and the knowing of the true danger of the situation. To go back to their previous point, these beasts are easily twice (or three times, in her case) the size, and have little reason to listen to anything any one humanoid says. There's something in what the laboratories do, though, that makes them different.. and for one like this to settle so easily, it has to do with just that (Not unlike a certain other irritable entity of ill temper, but built-in obedience).
So it's not so much the act of commanding it down, but the manner, that sparks some respect (The girl didn't even flinch, which speaks a lot more to a certain world weariness towards acts of violence.. or, reversely, a complete lack of it, and indicating sheer over-confidence instead). A glance exchanged, silver to copper, and the drej settled, the free hand smoothly moves to pull in the line and start adjusting a new hook onto it, as if everything is still business as usual. "Rightfully wasn't," the courier's quick lilt is back to normal, as he fusses with the line, tossing away the bent hook and replacing it with a new one, "But I think I get the general idea of what ya mean. If you have to pick between two types of fish, better the one that don't bleed ya back, eh?" And the line is cast out into the water again.
. 10 . (added) Percy: 48 (0/5) Dry Season: 20
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Post by Syd on Dec 5, 2022 9:14:28 GMT -6
She hated when Java was right.
Not a true hatred of course - the seeker was her first partner in crime far before she had rolled up her sleeves and worked on actually building relationships with those under her care - but certainly a strong emotion nonetheless. As much as cleverly applying his abilities usually yielded things they wanted, solely relying on them in every instance still felt like cheating sometimes. (Not that she had a problem with cheating however; spirits no. But more Java-involvement meant less her-involvement, and idle hands with nothing to do made her bones twitch, she swore.)
It wasn’t the end of the world, but she would have to make sure to bury that rueful thought well and deep before they got home.
Besides, things were still being learned. Not towards the top of their records concerning speed, but at a decent enough clip. (She told herself, both as a reminder and an attempt to convince herself further.) Java’s impression hadn’t been a one-off, which meant her critters were picking up what she could not, which …meant something. Hell if she knew what yet.
Despite the internal turbulence, the ympe barks out a laugh, and gestures towards a laying down and pouting Stack. “Depends on the fish an’ its bite. Took months for this one t’stop treatin’ me like a chew toy he couldn’t stand back when he was little.” A nostalgic, fond smile. “Still got the scars to prove it,” she adds, tracing with one finger a half-moon line across her right forearm and up just high enough to miss her wrist.
“Just gotta give ‘em a reason to listen, then they’re no’ so bad.”
A handful of pounds and purple feathers still remained where he had flattened to weather out the impending doom, and when it failed to occur, opened one sun-yellow eye to glance around warily at his surroundings. It didn’t look like anything bad had happened …did his new friend know what to do? Doc strove to make eye contact with the rakai, ready to defer to their judgment if they even vaguely looked like they knew what to do next.
Dry Season: 21
Syd: +5.5 Stack: lvl56 (4/5) / lvl57 (4/5) Doc: lvl2 (1/5) / lvl4 (1/5)
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Post by Èdan on Dec 5, 2022 9:58:07 GMT -6
The fact this thing had a time and place where it was 'smaller' made the analogy a little more comforting. One doesn't really want to find out how much of a scar its current size might create - Could well be the 'half moon' is just whichever poor target, sheared literally in half. (Bet even the folks at the Temple will end up scratching their heads over that one.) "Hm. Depends on the fish, indeed," the courier turns the head, showing off the left side of the forehead where a more pinking line shows a (relatively) fresh acquisition. The black clawed finger taps it lightly, "They don't always come on four legs and with a penchant for listening, particularly if you've stuff they'd much rather is theirs." The focus shifts back to the water, a mild shrug again, "Sad to say there's plenty such fish in the City streets."
There's things to be said about people versus beasts, and unfortunately for his analogies the argument could be made in favour of the beasts. (For one they tended to be selfish only in ways that was natural, and largely predictable). Having a beast like the spiky one at your side could be a decent deterrent for any ne'er-do-wells looking to start a scuffle.. but it would also draw up a multitude of eyes and appetites, for one type of fortune or another. (After all, he knew quite well these beasts were hardly cheap to make).
As for the pup, with the rattling quieted, his head perked up, looking for instruction of his own. The Big Scary Thing is retreating, and the humanoid seemed as normal as ever, if not somehow more so. With a ruffle of his scaly fur, the pup jumped to his feed, spraying sand all the which way again, looking to all the world as if the recent incident is already forgotten. Percy had a tendency to believe there isn't much danger in the world that requires too much extreme expression. The fact he could sometimes appear in a complete different place within a blink of an eye certain helped in that regard.
The pup looked down at his fluffy friend and merely wagged his tail behind him, as if to ask why he was so odd and flat suddenly.
. 11 . Percy: 48 (1/5) Dry Season: 22
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Post by Syd on Dec 5, 2022 10:47:39 GMT -6
“Quitter’s talk~” was the sing-songed answer lobbied back at him - and to be fair, if anyone could claim to be an expert on not listening, she’d be one hell of a candidate. Not for any of the right reasons, mind you, but there was a reason loopholes were regarded as more valuable than any currency from any land in her household. (And for much the same reason, some others orbiting in her social circles had long-standing orders to seek out said loopholes and persecute them with prejudice at all times. Such were lives spent in constant opposition of one another, for the good of everyone around them. Unsung and criminally not-at-all-paid heroes, if you would.)
Syd brings a hand to her chin in contemplation - a neutral sign for others, a ‘Start Worrying About Others’ sign for her. “Y’know, it sounds like y’just need some more learnin’ in the critter ‘partment. I know my way ‘round ‘em plenty; could always make you ‘nother business offer, if y’like,” she casually puts out there, seemingly not opposed to the idea herself.
(RUN, any other acquaintance of hers would tell you, FLEE WHILE YOU STILL CAN. Shame there’s no one around to do that for this poor man. Or at least, most likely not until it was too late.)
Said example and bastian of discipline (highly suspect if true??) was pondering his options furiously, limited as they were. She had told him ‘no’ and ‘down’, but she was still much too close to that …Whatever It Was, and he refused to leave his girl behind. Said conundrum rattled around in his skull, metaphorically making its own echoes as it went, until inspiration struck. She had told him ‘down’, but NOT ‘stay’! Time to go to work.
Again with all this sand! You know, Doc had been looking forward to this outing, no matter how much he had been unaware of these plans before he had been unceremoniously snatched up and brought here. The nap he had going before had been wonderful, and now? The gallor sits up, sand adding to the piles already in his fur and under his plates as his hopper-friend approached, and lets out a sad mournful sound as he wallows in his current circumstances. How on earth was he supposed to clean himself when he had nothing to work with but mud and all this s a n d ? A true tragedy, when you thought about it.
Dry Season: 23 Syd: +6 Stack: lvl57 (0/5) / lvl58 (0/5) Doc: lvl2 (2/5) / lvl4 (2/5)
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Post by Èdan on Dec 5, 2022 11:26:30 GMT -6
There is more than one type of baiting, and in those moments both the metaphorical and physical coexisted at the same time. As graining as the girl's nothing-held-sacred approach to a casual conversation was to some, it was also a nice bit of relief to the usual waltzing most people did around a metaphorical floor filled with glass shards. (A bit careless with the truth, but hey, some lessons can only be learned through experience). What she said, she likely meant (to a degree), even if you didn't quite understand the meaning on the get-go..
"World needs quitters too, it ain't so bad," is the plain answer. A pensive look does pass the courier's expression, though, making a fine bit of difference to what seemed like a blank expression for the past twenty minutes. "I've taken a gander at it with Percy here, so it's not like the field's foreign. More a question of the critters themselves, how big, how many teeth, sometimes even how many heads or limbs." Another small shrug, "Most feel like they've put on too many things, ya'know? Seems excessive. Simple's like to work just as well."
And to demonstrate, he turns towards the pup, raising fingers up for a brief sharp whistle. The pup immediately perks up, turning his attentions towards him, much like many practised times in the past. "Percy, go hunt some fish," and the courier indicates towards the waterline. With a sudden excited yap, as if someone had said the word 'candy' to a five year old, the pup jumps up and down and dashes off across the sands and into the surf with a large splash. Admittedly it did kick up some additional sand along the way, but what better way to get rid of it than to take a bit of a wash. With a degree of excitement that's frankly excessive, the rakai stalks and jumps along the shoreline, eyes training for anything he can see beneath the waters there.
"See?" the man asks, corner of the mouth slightly rising, "Simple, but we make it work."
. 12 . Percy: 48 (2/5) Dry Season: 24
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Post by Syd on Dec 5, 2022 12:15:19 GMT -6
The (finally) shift in expression is noted, as she ponders things in the background while listening. Had he failed at something? Someone failed him? If her guess about his origins were even vaguely correct, it’d probably be safe to assume the latter at the very least - especially with that long tail of his.
“Yeah well, I don’t think they’ve ever asked ‘should we?’ ‘stead of ‘can we?’, an’ I don’t think they’ll start any time soon,” she acknowledged. “But someone’s gotta take care a’ them if the lab-types won’t, an’ they don’t.” There was a reason she had so many creatures in her kennel for her age, and it certainly wasn’t because the powers that be had a habit of being responsible for their creations they flung out into the world. And she was a fatue who could never say no to anything living and in need of a home off the streets. She’d been called much worse things, so she couldn’t care less about this particular one.
While the rakai had been trained to the tune of a whistle his new acquaintance hadn’t been in the least, and startled just hard enough to fall backwards in the pup’s mad dash. Righting himself took another clumsy couple of moments, and as he twisted to see where the hop-friend had gone …
Water? WATER, praise be. That would be perfect for solving his problems, and a much more comfortable spot to play in! A quick scramble past the Big Loud Scary (who was doing an incredibly inefficient job at slowly inching forward on his folded joints and limbs towards his girl) meant he reached the lapping shores in no time, finding a shallow, cut-off puddle to begin rolling around in.
“Little goes a long way,” she replied, tipping her head in recognition as she takes a few steps closer to the relocated gallor, “but I can’t ‘magine all yours are so ready t’listen. You sayin' you don't wanna better handle on th’ rest?”
Dry Season: 25 Syd: +6.5 Stack: lvl57 (1/5) / lvl58 (1/5) Doc: lvl2 (3/5) / lvl4 (3/5)
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Post by Èdan on Dec 5, 2022 12:32:45 GMT -6
It's curious.. For all the bombastic, devil-may-care (somewhat literally) attitude that the girl's putting forth, a bleeding heart definitely wasn't something he was expecting. Empathy, sure, that can go without saying for most folk, even ones who claim to really not have any, but this goes beyond a simple worry or concern - You don't really start adopting the whole world unless you either cared deep enough to carry it, or had a hole in your heart deep enough to be unfillable. (And at risk of being called overtly curious, it was indeed a very uncommon puzzle to encounter).
"S'pose that makes sense," the man adjusts the line, the tail tip lightly tapping the rock is lazy idle motions. "A lot of work for just one person, though. Can't adopt them all, and hope to care for 'em at the same time. I wager the pale one's smart enough to help with that, but even then feels like a never ending task. Probably without too much gratitude from the flock, to boot." The brow raises as he looks at her, "So, what, it's just cause someone has to?"
At the offer, the slightly perplexed look returns, though quickly gets replaced with understanding - She assumes he has more. "Nah, largely cause there ain't no others. It's just me and the pup as of the moment."
The pup's job is simple on the surface, only in that everything he needs to do belongs below it. With the river running fairly calm and steady, the currents aren't likely to muddy the picture, so to speak, but his paws dipping in and out of the river's edge certainly do. Every now and then there's a sudden jump, head diving beneath the water, but is mostly comes up empty, or perhaps slightly silty from the muck pooled beneath. A quick shake of the head is all it takes, before he dashes off to search a new spot.
( First five / Second five / Third five / Fourth five / Fifth Five )
. 13 . Percy: 48 (3/5) Dry Season: 26
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Post by Fiera Ferella on Dec 6, 2022 14:38:47 GMT -6
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Post by Syd on Dec 8, 2022 22:19:36 GMT -6
A shrug precedes her equally blase answer: “I’ve gotta few helpers, sure. But helpin’ some’s better’n helpin’ none.” And then, as if she plays back what she just said in her head, attempts to backpedal with all the grace of someone failing a sobriety test but doubling down and insisting the results meant nothing because booze? Never met her.
“Not like it’s hard or anythin’,” she sniffs, “so it don’t matter much.”
Nailed it.
And then she catches the tail end of his turn of talking, and gives what can only be described as A Smile That Should Be Worried About. “Y’know, if he’s been this tall for a while, he’s pro’lly due for a growth spurt. An’ they get big on the next one.” Most people would think it rude to enjoy the mental anguish of others. (Most people. She was special-like that way.)
Good grief - the trials and tribulations he went through. The scant amount of water he had scampered to was not very deep, but with some hard work preening himself to the best of his ability, at least most of the sand had been removed. At least, it felt that way; some muck from the murky puddle might have transferred some onto him in the process, but that was neither here nor there. Having fluffed himself out as much as he could around his carapace pieces, the gallor was immediately drawn to his new friend, coming close enough for the water to lap at his front paws softly as he watched avidly for some sign of what this was.
Was this …a new game?
Dry Season: 27 Syd: +7 Stack: lvl57 (2/5) / lvl58 (2/5) Doc: lvl2 (4/5) / lvl4 (4/5)
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Post by Èdan on Dec 9, 2022 6:06:30 GMT -6
Ah, there it is. The tough exterior to denote a classic 'I-shall-have-no-need-of-anyone' combined with the much gentler side of still having the impulse to care for things. Though much rather preferring not to be caught dead doing so. The courier almost smirks at that, almost. (It's certainly one of the tougher faces to play. A lot of indifference makes the world cold and dark, but a little indifference just makes it easier to manage. A lot of caring, reversely, makes it a mess of trouble, but a little bit can yield unexpected results for the better. All together, it's about a balance between the two, and she looks much too young to have experienced all the ways it can go wrong).
"Yeah, it certainly sounds easy enough," the courier chimes back, looking to wholly agree with her. Not by means of being patronizing (Though she doesn't seem to need help there) so much as a simple agreement of a well-made argument. But at her sickly sweet devious expression, there's a moment where the courier seems to question a few things, before continuing, "Yeah, so I've heard and seen. Not saying I'm exactly waiting for when it comes around, 'cause makes it much easier to fish at this size, but..." another shrug, "If it happens, it happens."
To the point of the expression and her previous claim, however, he gives a questioning look, "I suppose this trip's one of those types of helpings, then? To help a guy with his critter, cause they look like they need it?" he indicates towards her and her gear, "No offence or anythin', it just don't seem like you have much in the way of equipment for this."
The courier's about to add more to the statement, when the fishing line suddenly twitches and begins to drag. Immediately his attention focuses on it, rising up from the rocky seat and halts the line, trying to pull it back in. "Hold that thought, looks like somethin's on the line.." It's not a fish, because fish fight and struggle, rattling the line irregularly. The pull here is easy and steady, meaning it's more likely some object struck the hook, or it got tangled in some plants. Hopping down from the rock, the courier continues to reel in the line as he approaches the water's edge, ready to pluck whatever's caught.
At the risk of appearing rude, in Percy's defence he has the capacity to focus once he's been given a particular task. The man has long since learned he can't necessarily control the method of the task, but also that the pup can be trusted to success on his own measure. As such, his focus remains on the water, even as his new friend sidles up. And not for no reason, either - something pink and colourful looks to sit just beneath the water's surface, trying to crawl its way between two rocks.
And Percy's expression in tracking it is not unlike a cat who has just seen a bug..
. 14 . Percy: 48 (4/5) Dry Season: 28
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Post by Syd on Dec 9, 2022 15:02:11 GMT -6
“Me? Help? Other way ‘round more like - figured maybe I learn this whole …” The humanish flaps one hand dismissively at the water, back turned more towards their wayward companions than him. “Fish. Thing. And I knew you knew how, so.” Just that simple, huh? She absently scuffs some sand under her feet once more, before her face lights up and she plummets into a low crouch. With a little digging, she triumphantly holds up a tiny round object that glimmers in the sun.
“Guess you weren’t pullin’ my ear neither!”
Her new stance has almost evened out their eye lines, and she puffs out a little ‘huh’ as she stays there, holding out the unlikely find in between them as the man attempts to reel something in. “You know, it’s funny …lots a’ people here don’t have no love for places ‘cross the sea - can’t really blame ‘em. So you’d think they’d know somethin’ about places they don’t like. But most all of ’em? Wouldn’t know how they talk over there even if you yelled it out loud down by the docks - unless you were from there, maybe.” Syd tilts her head, an unconscious motion that is slight but measured.
“Etsi fecistis. Miror quid de te dicit?”
It’s said casually, and there seems to be a true calmness to her cadence and tone, but her eyes …they speak of intent, of a focus that’s almost -
Ah.
Perhaps she finds love in dangerous things so easily because she may be one, or further fashioned herself after what and who she gathered around her? Or perhaps it's just a trick of the light, merely a too-fanciful passing of a thought. After all, there is nothing in her body language that seems overly threatening per say …but neither does any of her person scream safe either.
If anything, Percy’s lack of acknowledging Doc instead strongly implied there was something to be …found? Caught? Seen? In the running water before them. Doc had never found anything in the ponds back home (nothing that he was allowed to keep, anyway) but he had never looked here before! So the youngling attempts to copy the rakai’s stance and stare into the water just as avidly (if also glancing over constantly to see if he was doing it right).
(Stack was struggling under the realization that his unique limbs and their many joints were not all that conducive to crawling over sand and getting very far, but he was far more stubborn than he was wise, which was why him and his girl got along, most likely.)
Dry Season: 29 Syd: +7.5 Stack: lvl57 (3/5) / lvl58 (3/5) Doc: lvl3 (0/5) / lvl5 (0/5)
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