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Post by Kristofor on Aug 19, 2023 21:45:07 GMT -6
NOTE:((Kristofor has 'wild speak' as a skill! Bold is a headline or wild speak body language. 'talking' is Kristofor's Laiyan speech. "Talking" is Common, if in conversation. Non-canon, Kristofor can see in the dark. Think of a dungeons and dragons type of night vision; he can see a bit, but not very far and not stat-wise. Just canon. Because what kind of fox can't see in the dark? Right? right.))  Suffolk 10/12 Stamina: 2 Strength: 1 Resistance: 1 Dexterity: 5 Mentality: 1 Abilities: Loosen Fur Moves: Dash    |
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Post by Kristofor on Aug 19, 2023 21:51:48 GMT -6
The young fox's concern over the fawn's seeming inability to see prevented him from sleeping that night. Just seeing those seemingly sightless eyes staring at nothing, haunt his dreams.
So he takes the creature to the vet who he'd heard was reputable. They took the fawn in the back and asked him to come back later. Bored and not willing to sit in a strangely scented metal box for the fawn, Kris takes the time to go for a little walk around the city. As he wanders, the quest board is on his way. A slight deviation of the path to see if anything new had been put up. A few kids are pointing and laughing at a boring looking ad on the board... except for a little googly eyed winged papercraft fluttering slightly in the wind when someone waved their hands really hard at it. Huh. Glowmoth conservation for the park to go and catch. He hasn't been to catch bugs since being much younger; it has more draw for cubs.
Wings, and glows and flies like a butterfly. Well then.
Now to go back and find out what is up with Suffolk.
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Post by Kristofor on Aug 23, 2023 3:26:01 GMT -6
Through several back and forth conversations between three different people, a literal book being put in front of him where Kristofor's ability to read common outpaced his ability to speak it, though understanding it is little issue, the original animals the repointe are based off of are actually blind right between their antlers, for sight range. A lab-made animal. Explained the fact of a fox-fawn hatching from an egg, or a dog who could change their gender like a frog does; temporarily. But that didn't explain to them that he'd been on the side of this baby fawn several times and they still didn't see him.
The only real answer he got felt... like an excuse. The baby had hatched too early before their eyes and the instinct to watch with them, had fully developed. That like a fox cub, the fawn, now realized as a male, would open their eyes properly in about two weeks. Nothing is physically 'wrong' with the baby animal, just premature.
To supplement the baakir mama milk with a powdered multivitamin giving root and the blood of fresh meat. That its too young get solid food just yet. SO he's to treat the animal like a newborn rather then a predator right out of the gate.
Suffolk is relocated to his wagon in a dazed tangle of limbs; several vaccinations flowing inside his tiny body, resting his muzzled face on his front legs that he can't see, with a wrap covering his eyes. That he can keep the muzzle on except for eating and drinking purposes.
Several stacks of credits lighter, Kristofor can only hold himself back as he towed the baby fawn forward to the park. His brain is literally buzzing with information.
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Post by Kristofor on Aug 23, 2023 3:31:57 GMT -6
He's not so sure how to feel when the 'area' for catching glowmoths comes up before him on the winding dirt tamped path through the park. Literally a banner taller then he is, stamped or jumped on or hammered into the ground, welcoming bug catchers everywhere. That several various humans and their sized animals are 'grocery shopping' behavior over the bushes scattered through this section of the park.
A helper waves him over. Eagerly explaining that the glowmoths are about to come out just after the sun is going down, passing him a net and to go catch a few moths. Live ones are much preferred. Just how many specimen of moth did they need.
"Uh, th-thank you." he stammers a bit from the abruptness of it all, towing the pull cart behind him. Suffolk doesn't seem to bothered by the abrupt change of bumpy bumpy ride to less bumpy ride but a lot of stops and starts. Just too drugged at the exact moment.
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Post by Kristofor on Aug 23, 2023 3:38:46 GMT -6
The fox takes a space away from other people who are tiptoing around the bushes, doing animated swipes like they've got bugs or something but clearly do not. Like a rehersed performance or something.
The major key to catching any sort of bug, is bait and patience. The cart finally stops, pushed the rest of the way off the track to finally come to rest. His pawpads are sore from all the towing, the chafing on his fingers and palm with the metal and rubber handle.
'That must've been scary, I'm sorry Suffolk.' Kristofor sighs, sitting down with his back against the carts outer wall. He can hear the soft breathing of the fawn above his head, ears angling for noise. Not nearly as keen as Rabbit on noises, but his hearing's pretty good. 'But now I know you're not blind forever.' The animal doesn't respond to him, like a half-sleep. A deep sigh escapes him, fiddling with a loose lock of fur that comes out almost immediately. Ugh.
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Post by Kristofor on Aug 23, 2023 22:01:14 GMT -6
Its almost cruel of him to bring the drugged animal out in public just to go catch moths for a handful of credits. But it nags to him that he'd be worse to leave the creature alone in his bed at home and vulnerable to being bullied by his housepets. But Suffolk doesn't seem uncomfortable, at least that he can see. Nobody's looking weirdly at him either. So... an hour or two outside should be ok. He might have an extra towel packed in case the wind picks up and makes the little fawn cold.
There's several people doing the mad dashes around, chasing faint blips of light. But they appear too small to be a moth. Aren't moths larger? Likely mismatching the bugs to fireflies. A smile drifts over his features of a memory of seeing one of the young forest animals he made friends with eat a firefly once, and make their cheeks glow for about thirty seconds before spitting out the bug, as they taste rancid.
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Post by Kristofor on Aug 23, 2023 22:10:44 GMT -6
the carnivorous fox settles into the grass, assuming a lotus pose with his legs; might as well meditate while waiting for the sun to set. If the noise around him gets louder, the moths are about. Same if the baby faun wakes up from his induced nap. Its been a long time since he chose to meditate out in nature. Or as nature as a low grass field with no coverage can get him. Thirty minutes. Padded fingers curl into a familiar shape, resting on his knees with the palms up. A soft hum resonates within his chest, generated by vocals.
In his mind's eye, he tries to imagine the fawn, but grown. The image of an asshole buck with a white tail, exceedingly prim antlers and an attitude drifts through his head. NO no no. Wave that out of existence. Briefly considers what Bristol...that meat eating deer who had given him sledding trauma looked like. But the animal was HUGE.
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Post by Kristofor on Aug 23, 2023 22:25:03 GMT -6
Something alights on his ear as he sits, concentrating on his thoughts. It rubs its front legs together, like washing its tiny legs, flattering wings. Looking down. Dark space, but warm. Warm life. A hum resonates upwards, the ear twitches, and the insect alights again in alarm, but settles on the other ear instead. Someon happens to spot the insect chilling on the fox's ear from several yards away, and because he's all inside his own head right now, doesn't hear it... until someone crashes a net right over his head.
A shrill feral screech escapes him as he's yanked into reality, finding himself captured, the cart smacked into from behind to overturn, again, and some asshole human is sitting about five feet from him, smelling strongly of fear and excrement. tearing the net from his head, the fox leans forward to crouch on all fours, tail lashing with murder in his eyes. Nobody disturbs his damn meditation sessions.
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Post by Kristofor on Aug 23, 2023 22:30:34 GMT -6
The human is babbling, wide eyed and scared ****less by the furious mammalian fox. There was a moth on his head, and wanted to just catch the moth, honest! They can count those pearly fangs of his at this distance....don't eat them.. please.
"Consider your manners about catching a moth on someone's head before doing that again." Kristofor's upper lip twitches on his muzzle as he speaks plainly. Calmly, but is all body language of anger. "Please leave." The net tossed before them, with a single moth inside, and the human scurries off in kickups of grass and dirt to escape the mad fox.
He sighs, turning around to upend the cart back to being on four wheels. Getting up to step over to the fawn and check for any injuries. The bandana is loose and falls away when jostled, the sightless eyes blinking sleepily. A disgruntled, sleepy bleat coming from his muzzled maw.
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Post by Kristofor on Aug 23, 2023 22:35:01 GMT -6
He doesn't 'get' angry, not often at least. But that's quite rude of the human to just smack a net over his head like that. Gently handling each limb of Suffolks to make sure there's no injury, because if he's injured, the fox might have to chase the human down for hurting the baby fawn who he bets wasn't seen at all. The cart had been rather well hidden. He traces each long gangly hoofed limb, noting the tiny sharp nub on each foreleg. Huh, like the spur on a chicken, he supposes.
Before long, nothing seems to be wrong with the fawns legs and he hoists him back into the cart. Suffolk snorts, shaking his head back and forth. Theres something 'there' but he can't see it. He bleats in confusion, the tip of his tongue touching the 'there', and he makes alarm noise. What this?!
'Its ok Suffolk. you're not hurt.' the fox tries to soothe his new creature with soft words. Until he sees something alight on the fawn's flopped ear instead.
A moth.
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Post by Kristofor on Aug 23, 2023 22:44:16 GMT -6
'All this fuss about a little bug?' he looks down at the fawn who is more concerned with the 'thing' he can't see on his face vs whats on his head. The moth is just that; a bug. Its butt glows a bit, fluttering wings a tad as it cleans its feathery antanne while eh just stares at it. Ok, so its the first time hes' seen a MOTH glow, but fireflies aren't uncommon in the summertime. In curiosity, Kristofor extends out a clawed finger, holding it just close enough for the moth to investigate, instead of poke it like he would have as a young cub with no sense of danger.
The bug's head inclines towards the extension of finger, up to the m multitude image it saw of the giant. The moths had seen the giant human take another of its kind away, but that one wouldn't ever fly again. Not after being caught. Theres no sign of the catching thing; but that doesnt' mean it doesn't have one. A long pause before its antanee flicker towards the fingertip, then it alights to be on his finger.
Huh. So small. Kristofor lets the bug crawl around his hand like he would let an ant or a beetle. The creature seems to have no interest in biting him or fleeing, for some reason. Maybe he can walk the bug over for someone to catch it for him, like those who want live creatures.
Maybe its the scent of his shampoo that's attracting the insects. Because once he had gotten to them, three more had landed on him. The staff find this very funny.
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-fin
+2 Suffolk
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Post by NPC on Oct 15, 2023 17:33:14 GMT -6
Congratulations, you have successfully completed the quest! Your QP will be added to the bank, and your prize will be sent out shortly.
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