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Post by Flare on May 29, 2019 11:10:31 GMT -6
x Pak's Offspring x Ridelys' Female 10/10
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Post by Flare on May 29, 2019 11:20:11 GMT -6
"Each female Pachee may only breed once a month, but males may produce pollen much more often." He read this sentence three times before leaning back on his stone-stool-stump thing with a bit of a huff. Flare did not know that females were only in 'the mood' once a month. It made sense though, going with the little black female's aggression towards the amount of males he had running loose in his garden. Had very little of Pak's genepool it seemed. As such, he only had one female, and many more males then he actually wanted. To get one of them out of the way, he grabbed a male at random who bounded past, it squealing and shrilling in his clawed grasp. {I am not going to hurt you.} he tells the white male, Pak's firstborn son?, gently. Massaging the creature's belly carefully with his fingertips. The dirty glower in his direction could only come from Pak, who sunned himself on a convenient pile of rock nearby. What was his problem? Unsure, Flare collected the white male into the box he'd carried everyone else in, and made his way to the breeding center. "Female for my male?" he asked the receptionist, who gave him a dour look up. "No, we don't advertise females. People 'hem hem' use berries to try for more females. Get some berries or get another female. Each female Pachee may only breed once a month, remember that." "I've got him, m'am." came a voice on his right. To Flare's surprise, a redheaded humanoid popped up there, holding a female in her arms. "Here. She'll be a good fit for your boy. Bring her back to me when you're done." Luckily the room was already empty, so Flare got sent in right away. 1.5 4.20 1/10
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Post by Flare on May 29, 2019 11:26:07 GMT -6
This seemed to be the fastest time that Flare had gotten sent into this room. Perhaps because of timing. Shutting the door behind him, he faced the room of where the pachee would play together. The toys were cleaned up, the grass mowed, and... felt almost sterile. Like nothing had been inside before. The box he set down at his feet, and tipped it sideways to allow the two pachee to escape. The female had the same coat color as Pak, just a generic brown with green circlet marks. She seemed a bit surprised to get such a sudden outing like this. And not with the human who had been there not minutes ago. She wasn't here, instead a giant who looked like a fire with feet. And this white male. He seemed... well a regular male. But his coat was white, leaves and ferns and markings paler then her own. As he exited the box, she could see his fur mussed in places, not at all the sort of male to expect. All he had wanted to do was say hello to her this morning. The big brown male in the garden said she was his half-sister. She had violently rejected even a greeting! How was he related to such a mean pachee?! 2.5 5.20 2/10
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Post by Flare on May 29, 2019 11:32:34 GMT -6
Shaking himself out, the white male sat back on his hind legs, smoothing out his fur and attempting to get it flat. Wincing briefly with smoothing out the muss on his left side. His half sibling had lashed out, slapping him hard enough to hurt. Did pachee bruise? Tenderly, he kneads his claws into the fur, not deep enough to touch his skin beneath, straightening out his fur by strand. How very meticulous this one was. Flare's eyes did not miss the white male's reaction to brushing himself down. Plants were something he knew, but not so much creatures. But he did know a reaction of when one is hurt. How badly? He couldn't see blood. Did pachee have blood? After the two were done here, he'd try to examine the little white male a bit closer. The female watches the white male with interest, but almost concern. White male is hurt. Are you hurt? she asks him, crouching a little ways away on all fours. White and tan ears twitch, turning in her direction as he combs delicately. It hurts. Female did not like greeting, she slapped me away. He pauses in grooming to look at her. Looks like the brown male back at home. 3.5 6.20 3/10
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Post by Flare on May 29, 2019 11:40:50 GMT -6
I have rejected the male in my home before, she tells him. He had no substance. Substance? What is substance? The combing one asks, pulling his tail forward to rearrange his stamen into a straighter pattern. A few were a bit bent. Personality. Depth. Something interesting. These words mean nothing to the white male. It isn't just a coat color to impress me. It took him by surprise; were females this picky? She gets up on all fours, making a slow wide circle around the grooming white male before moving away to explore the room. All that Flare could hear were varying tones of 'chee'. I have not taken a mate. she tells the white male, meandering back and forth, examining the room. I have no wish to take a mate on most occasions. What is an occasion. the white male is totally lost with her long words. He's still young, still relatively simple and instinct-driven. He wants to make her happy. To slap pollen and let her catch it. But her face gash is flat shut, and will not let pollen in when flat shut. She's realizing just how young this white male is; how old was he? He wasn't slapping his tail around like some hormonal creature... 4.5 7.20 4/10
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Post by Flare on May 29, 2019 11:46:16 GMT -6
But she does not want to catch pollen, if he understood her longness right. She had little interest in him. Practically none. How to make her happ-ouch. He scraped his claws against the sore spot again, wincing. Its less of a physical wince with no mouth to show it, but a cringe and squinty eyes. Pulling the side in slightly to shield it. Neither Flare nor the female miss this motion. You are hurt. she comes closer to him. I want to see. No, I am not hurt. He was not hurt. He would show he wasn't hurt. The white male wasn't prepared to be picked up from behind and above. Suddenly airborne again, the pachee panicked, going board stiff. Put me down, he squalls. Flare, concerned for the creature's wellbeing, picks the white male off the ground, and sits back down on the stool. setting the white male on his knees. {Be calm} he growls softly, trying to be very gentle with petting the young pachee. {I only wish to see.} The female wasn't prepared for the giant to come take the male away so soon. Most just sat and watched. Were they that concerned over the white male? 5.5 1/2 8.20 5/10
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Post by Flare on May 29, 2019 11:57:09 GMT -6
From what he could see, pachee fur wasn't as thick or guarded as other creatures with fur he'd seen over his life. Running his fine scaled fingers over the area, he prodded gently. If the white male had a mouth, he would've made to try to stop the creature. Instead he smacked his tail into the ssashirk's thigh. Flare made no motion that the slap had hurt him. But his prod appeared to make the pachee hurt. Carefully, he held the creature's top half with one hand, braced across his thighs and brushed the fur in the opposite direction with his thumb-claw. The brownish skin beneath seemed slightly discolored. For creatures of that size, the female must've hit him quite hard to leave this sort of marking. Now he understood why females only were in season once a month; because after they bred, their temperments were sky high. Carefully, he let the white male jump down and remained in the background once again. The white male slapped his tail against the creature's shin before scampering off once he landed on the ground. That hurt, you know. he glowers at the giant. Your caretaker seems to be concerned over your wound. She chee's at him, approaching. 1.5 9.20 6/10
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Post by Flare on May 29, 2019 12:10:48 GMT -6
Big paws could be more gentle... the white male grumps, sitting back and smoothing out his fur again. This time being careful of his injury. Gentle claws. He doesn't wish to be showing off his mistake to this female. She's not paying attention to the room at present, but instead on him. If it hurts, show that it hurts. she tells him. Hiding a wound can make it grow worse. If I show I am hurt, I will be picked up again. I do not like being picked up. he insists. Air under your paws is... scary. Her head tilts to the side as he chee's at her, purple eyes completive. There seemed to be a sting of pride with this male, for being rejected. Although it wasn't much, it was substance. Some depth to this young male. It wasn't expected. Do not be stung by her rejection. she tells him. There are many pachee in this world; many many. We are all different. How very philosophical of this female... Different does not include mean. he stares at his feet. It does include mean. It includes rowdy. It includes pollen-slappers. It includes all. She seems to know more then letting on. Flare briefly wonders what is holding their attention so long. 2.5 10.20 7/10
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Post by Flare on May 29, 2019 12:19:51 GMT -6
Why are you telling me this. You are not interested in me. The white male asks her, finally finished grooming himself, sets down on all fours and looks at her. She's bigger then he is, by a small amount. Interest in being your mate, I am not presently. she is almost sauntering forward, putting one paw in front of the other. Being interested in what makes your little head tick, I am. A cold chill spreads down his fern with this. My... my head tick? Yes... You have more substance then that garden male where I stay. He has no substance. Half buried in the dirt day after day. One with the soil. Uninterested in me once I rejected him. Yet you are not waving your pollen tail around, trying to coax me to take you. She's almost nose to nose with him. Why. The white male backsteps a bit; the personal space invasion confuses and frightens him. This female is very... strong willed. He can't figure out what to say. To make a 'chee'. The word comes again; why. Why was he not acting on instinct, throwing his pollen around like a male would at first sight? Why was he stung pride with being hit by another female? I don't want to be rejected again. If there were a thing as understanding plant speech, this would be a conversation Flare would've tuned out. 3.5 11.20 8/10
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Post by Flare on May 29, 2019 12:37:10 GMT -6
Rejected once does not mean rejected forever. The female sits down close to him, wrapping her tail around her feet. If she had more fur, she'd resemble one of those forest cats. Her fern almost crowns around her face. Approach her again once you return. See how she's acting around others first. I will tell you now; she has not rejected you forever. Moods will change. There will be a day where you are angry and do not wish to interact; where you will lash out and strike one you know. It happens. Don't wallow in self pity. Her claws hook under his downed chin and force his face to look at her. Do you understand. The white male can't help but shrink further. He's intimidated but drawn at the same time. Her sweet scent enveloping him in a cloud of fresh wildflowers. Pachee don't know the patterns of yes or no, but one slap of his tail for yes, two for no. One slap, yes. Its a gentle slap, not enough to kick pollen into the air. His stamen are still maturing, it would take a good several slaps to produce pollen, should she want it. Yes, I understand. Good. She releases him, gives him a slight push in the upper half with her paw. You do have depth. Keep it. And keep your giant close. She tilts her head back at Flare, who yawns. 4.5 12.20 9/10
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Post by Flare on May 29, 2019 12:46:13 GMT -6
My giant close? Why? he asks her as she moves away from him again, taking the scent along. Its a hook, a lure. His pupils are dilating, being lured. No reason. she teases him, swishing her tail lightly, dispersing her scent to be a little less strong. Just a passing thought. Sneaky, tricky female. Were they all like this, he wondered. I will humor you today; but do try to court your females a little more when you come next. Wait, did this mean...? Acting more on instinct then on willpower, the young white male slapped his tail. Slapped it again. No pollen. How young was this pup, the female wondered as she watched him struggle. Calm yourself. Its instinct, and you are still young. You have pollen, but clear your mind. It releases easier. Slap slap. SLAP. She jumped a bit when he slapped down his tail a bit harder then expected. Poof. It was small, but it was still a bit of pollen. His eyes were wet, he'd hit his tail slightly harder then expected. Its enough. She brushes past him before allowing her stigma, long thought to be almost sealed shut, to open and take in his pollen. When Flare ended up collecting both pachee and returning the female to the one who waited for her, they both had the single thought; what did they call themselves. 5.5 2/4 13.20 10/10 fin
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Post by Renathan on May 29, 2019 17:05:59 GMT -6
Is that a female white pachee?
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