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 Posted: Sat Aug 04, 2012 2:02 pm
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Posted: Sat Aug 04, 2012 2:03 pm
 ▀▄ ① Introduction_.▀▄ ② Index & Rules▀▄ ③ White Tiger__▀▄ ④ Swan_______▀▄ ⑤ Entries___-__❶ Follow shop rules._______________________ __________________❷ These Dusts are special to Chrys. Be active so she you can see them grow!❸ This is a newbie & active owner event. That means if you have a Dust and -
they're still in Bottle or Spin stage, you may not enter._____________❹ You may enter for both. You can only win one._____________________
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Posted: Sat Aug 04, 2012 2:04 pm
  NOW, August 7th to 11:59pm EST August 21stThe White Tiger is one of Chrys' most favorite animals of all time.
Parting with this was not easy! We're leaving her as a clean slate
for you to determine her character. Chrys will determine her powers.
Choose one of the following prompts and answer it to the best of
your abilities. You must answer at least one prompt, but you may
answer both (with the same personality being supplied).
Prompt 1
This is a personality prompt response.
It's your birthday! Armed with a generous gift of coin from your Guardian, you can spend your present on
just about anything your heart desires. So. What do you do? Where do you go? And most importantly,
what does the birthday girl purchase?
Look at the three keywords for your personality and stay true to those! If you're generous, maybe
you'd buy a gift that can be shared. If you're mean, maybe you just steal what you want and save the
cash. If you're a loner, maybe you never make it to town and instead spend your birthday throwing coins
into the ocean. This is your time to showcase your tiger's personality; leave nothing out!
Prompt 2
This is a creative prompt response.
It's another normal day: you have your morning routine, things to do, people to see. It's not that it's not
exciting, it can just get...monotonous. On your way into town by yourself (because you're a big girl and
really, who is going to give a tigress a hard time?), you spot something in the middle of the road. Intrigued,
you come up to it and find -- a basket? It's tightly woven and well-worn from use, covered with a blue cloth.
Do you look in the basket? What's in it? What do you do with what you find? The basket can be of any
size to serve your purpose. You can be as wild or outrageous with this as you want, just have some fun
and show us your creative process, as well as how awesome your tigress will be![size=24][color=black][b]EYE OF THE (WHITE) TIGER[/b][/color][/size]
[size=11][b]Dust Name:[/b]
[b]Personality:[/b] 3 Keywords ONLY.
[b]Prompt:[/b] 1 or 2
[b]Response:[/b] [/size]
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Posted: Sat Aug 04, 2012 2:05 pm
  NOW, August 7th to 11:59pm EST August 21stOne day, Chrys was brainstorming Dusts. She does this a lot in
school for some reason. Pondering upon something as 'normal' as a swan
Dust, she wondered how exotic that could look! Speaking with BP about it,
BP whipped up this beautiful, regal boy and Chrys was in love. That
she's parting with it is nothing short of a miracle. No, really, it physically
hurts her to let this one go. You must answer one prompt but you may
answer both, though it is not necessary. Have fun!
Prompt 1
This is a personality prompt response.
It's your birthday! Armed with a generous gift of coin from your Guardian, you can spend your present on
just about anything your heart desires. So. What do you do? Where do you go? And most importantly,
what does the birthday boy purchase?
Look at the three keywords for your personality and stay true to those! If you're generous, maybe
you'd buy a gift that can be shared. If you're mean, maybe you just steal what you want and save the
cash. If you're a loner, maybe you never make it to town and instead spend your birthday throwing coins
into the ocean. This is your time to showcase your regal swan's personality; leave nothing out!
Prompt 2
This is a creative prompt response.
It's another normal day: you have your morning routine, things to do, people to see. It's not that it's not
exciting, it can just get...monotonous. On your way into town by yourself (because you're a big boy and
really, who is going to stop a swan prince incarnate?), you spot something in the middle of the road.
Coming up to it, you find -- a basket? It's tightly woven and well-worn from use, covered with a red cloth.
Do you look in the basket? What's in it? What do you do with what you find? The basket can be of any
size to serve your purpose. You can be as wild or outrageous with this as you want, just have some fun
and show us your creative process, as well as how awesome your swan will be![size=24][color=dimgra][b]NO UGLY DUCKLING HERE![/b][/color][/size]
[size=11][b]Dust Name:[/b]
[b]Personality:[/b] 3 Keywords ONLY.
[b]Prompt:[/b] 1 or 2
[b]Response:[/b] [/size]
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Posted: Sat Aug 04, 2012 2:06 pm
▀▄ Mei Silja :: Swan :: Entry
▀▄ Herbaceous:: Swan :: Entry
▀▄ Kupuritama:: Tiger :: Link
▀▄ Gwendolyn Barrett :: Tiger :: Link
▀▄ Tasinei :: Tiger :: Link
▀▄ Kupuritama :: Swan :: Link
▀▄ Jun D :: Tiger :: Link
▀▄ Kuuro Kitten :: Swan :: Link
▀▄ Zristal :: Tiger :: Link
▀▄ musicaloner7 :: Tiger :: Link
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Posted: Wed Aug 08, 2012 2:25 pm
NO UGLY DUCKLING HERE!
Dust Name: Beinalph (Beautiful swan)
Personality: Aggressive, Possesive, Courageous
Prompt: 2
Response:
Cool wind blew with the scent of snow and the bite of winter. The puddles littering the cobbled street were still with a thin layer of ice forming over them. An unwary traveler might step on the translucent ice and plunge their foot into the icy water; but Beinalph was no unwary traveler. He walked with easy grace; the clip of his boot heels, the only sound aside from the snip of the cloth that whipped away with each long stride. Even he could not forget the cold, despite his sure gait missing each puddle as only a minor inconvenience. Each breath he took fogged up and wrapped around his face before disappearing.
The weather truly was a nasty piece of work for only the middle of autumn. It was this reason that the swan prince might have ignored the basket in his path. He would have just breezed past it intent on the allure of a warm building to breathe some life in his frost nipped fingers and nose. That is, if the baskets red wrapping did not move and a tiny feeble cry not make the strong youth stop. He listened, neither advancing nor retreating. Then the cry came again. Stronger this time as if the pitiful creature knew he was there and had a sympathetic ear to its noise.
So it was that he drew closer and lifted away the red material, to see a small child. She had no clothes, her lips were blue and Beinalph could see her limbs did not wish to move any more. The swan cast his eyes around, looking to see who might have left something so fragile in the middle of the street. But there was no one there, only he was foolish enough to walk the streets when there were fires to sit by and good books to read. He realized he was crouching in the middle of the dirty road and a frown grace his lips. It was hardly an expression change, just a quirk of the lips. The next cry made him return to the child and he plucked her up.
The basket and its red cloth were wet, nothing he wanted to draw to his person. The child needed warmth though, so he opened his cloak and drew her inside. He nestled her against his chest and stood. Even as he resumed his walking the frown remained. He could not understand why someone would do this to a child, or any living thing for the matter. His once easy gait was now more hurried, his soft light features hardened as he thought of the kind of person to do this. A fog had rolled in and a faint misting rain had started. He was so heavily clothes that he had not noticed its start. ‘The child would have.’
He sighed, letting the muscles that had tightened relax and he schooled his features to mute his growing anger. The child must have been feeling better for she now moved and push against him. “Be still, else I will drop you.” He did not look down, and did no more to acknowledge the bulge against his chest then he did the cobbles he walked on. This was not to say he cared for each in equal amounts. He cared far more for the nameless babe then the rocks beneath him. It was this care that led him to a shop and his closed fist striking the door. He did this to a woman opened it and glared at him. Beinalph did nothing but stare at her until the woman swallowed. “I want clothes for a child. A girl child. They need to be warm.” The woman nodded and opened the door to let him in.
“I need measurements colors and price range.” Beinalph said nothing, only opened his cloak and set the alert infant on the counter. By the woman’s gaze he saw what she was thinking. “She’s not mine, do you see white hair? Do you see the swans mark on her? I asked for clothing not your faulty judgment.” Even as his words were biting Beinalph spoke in calm even tones with no hint of anything but dull impatience. The woman finally seemed to catch the markings around his eyes and the crisp white of her hair. She paled and Beinalph was sure if she could, her skin would have gone as pale as his hair. “Yes clothes, I have some already done she can try.” From there the woman rushed about and Beinalph left with a bag of new clothes and the girl dressed warm and snug in his own favored colors.
The child he was told, was no infant but a young toddler. How was he to know what children looked like at what age? So the little girl was on the ground now. Her new boots making scuffing sounds as she walked along. Beinalph of course held her hand, the woman in the shop had soon gotten over who he was and had started bossing him around about child care and every other little thing. Turns out he was somehow to thin and to pale. The woman had ignored his soft glares and shushed him to go sit like a scolded child. Oddly he found himself sitting where she wanted him to with a cup of tea which he drank under her watchful gaze. Then he drank more until his pale skin was flushed with warmth. Now he was directed to go home and get the child to eat. Annoyed he found himself doing just that. Which is why he was once more walking. The child beside him was happy as a clam, but she said nothing as she had said nothing about anything.
The sun had finally come out and everything was warming; but the wind kept its biting winter presence and so even as others ventured out there wasn’t any that did not have a warm coat around them. He walked along at a much slower rate than before, and then he noticed it. On the edge of his gaze. If he had been paying attention to the girl he would not have seen it. A shadow like form flickered around the child. ‘A demon,’ his mind supplied him even as he worked to deny that chance. The child had a demon following her. It was the reason she had been abandoned. Probably strange and unlucky things happened around her to cause her to be abandoned. This revelation brought a sense of anguish to Beinalph. He was not an adult and no matter how he acted; his levels of magic were not good enough to kill or even banish a demon.
Distraught, his calm expression broke and he looked at the little human in panic. How long had the demon been there, how long had it gnawed at the child’s small life force? Yet he didn’t have to ask, he already knew. He should have known when he picked the babe up. He had ignored it, refused to believe it. He had never seen a demon, and some small part of him refused to believe they could be so monstrous to attach themselves to a child. She was just that, little more than the infant he first thought her for. He continued stubbornly forward, refused to let himself be drawn into despair. The demon knew he was there to; he was certain of it. Just as he was almost certain, it knew he was no real threat.
The very idea of a demon that fed on children laughing at him had Beinalph angry. His stride grew longer in his haste for home; and he only slowed when he felt the child stumble. He said nothing to her, just picked her up and went on. That was likely why she was so small, so delicate looking. Clutching the girl to his heart he picked up speed, almost running as if that alone would let them escape the demon. Beinalph nearly fell as his boots slipped over melting ice. It didn’t slow him though. He righted himself and resumed rushing home. The girl, she was already dying. The demon had found her just as she was born and in her weakness before her first breath; it attached itself to her like a leech.
He reached home but didn’t slow as he raced through the halls to his room. He slammed his door and set the frightened child down on his bed. He didn’t have to question what he already knew he had decided. He would risk it; risk himself to save the girl who did not deserve this. He didn’t know how to really draw the demon forward. He didn’t even know how to fight, but that didn’t stop the small ragged bits of information being applied. He grasped the swan feather from his desk. Everything was in a rush, everything moved so fast that he was giving himself no time to think. This was unlike him. He thought things through; he was level headed calm and graceful. Yet all that was thrown to the wind for a nameless babe he picked up.
And that was it, he had picked her up. Beinalph had given her clothes, shared his warmth and listened to her cries. Fiercely he closed his eyes. He yanked at his magic, not thinking of the possibility it might break, or that even he might do so. He tugged and pulled it, forcing it to rise up, and then he snapped it shut like a swan closed its wings. He felt the impact; it jarred his teeth and shook him to his core. It was like slamming into a wall at full run. The demon felt it to, because for just an instance he saw just what the wretched thing looked like. It walked like an ape might, an ill formed jaw making thick saliva drip down its body that seemed unable to pick a shape. Scales fur bones skin all doted the beast. And its eyes showed hate that Beinalph had never seen before.
Then the image was gone before he could make full sense of it, and Beinalph was hit back. This was far stronger, and hurt him far worse than his own strike against the demon. He realized as he wasn’t knock back that the battle would be in his mind. Yet it felt as if he had been laid flat. He was given no chance to catch his breath as another hit struck him and another. The blows rained down but he called up his own magic and struck out. Visualizing again the wings of a swan. He heard it be said they could break a man’s bones and now he willed them to break a demons. He felt the use of his own magic strain him, but he was too lost to feel his nose start bleeding. He was too young yet to understand that a battle in the mind might not kill his body; but it would kill his soul and magic.
At this strike he heard the demons howl, but he had already learned not to pause and kept attacking. Then it all stopped. What seemed like years, were only a few minutes. Confused and in pain he opened his eyes. He still felt the demon, and then he heard a chilling sound. It laughed. And then again before it simply left, leaving a shell shocked swan in its wake. It had not killed him, because Beinalph had amused it. He had been a joke, nothing but a mild irritation like the puddles scattered around the road that Beinalph had moved around just moments ago.
The swan moved to his bed and picked up the small human and hugged her. Crying so that rivulets of water ran down the black markings around his eyes, as if he had cried enough that a path had been marked there permanently. It was his fault, if only he had been stronger. Just a little more might have helped. But the child was dead, he had lost her life in a game that she was only a scapegoat for.
Edited: Thursday, August 09, 7.00Am Reason, grammar problems and wrong word count.
Note: Looong! 2,034 word count. Meaning two pages an a paragraph and a half!
Now his three personality words.. I know their unique and very different then what a swan normally gets. I have never liked the classical swan lake, or the swan princess. Swans are beautiful and graceful sure, but to be they are also strong and courageous; and maybe even vain. wink My favorite version, and the only version to portray the swans as males; has been Matthew Bourne's Swan Lake. that was my inspiration for the whole thing because I have wrote it twice and it keeps going back to that. (If you have never seen it then please please watch it after the competition! So worth it!)
Also note, I have no idea how fighting demons goes so there we are, my version! Sorry if its wrong. >< It was fun though. Read the prompt if you like, while listening to the Swan lake music itself. XD
Thanks for the contest!~
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Posted: Wed Aug 08, 2012 2:58 pm
NO UGLY DUCKLING HERE!
Dust Name: Valentino
Personality: Elegant, Sanguine, Compassionate
Prompt: 1
Response:
Reaching inside his pocket, Valentino pulled out the pouch of coins his guardian had given to him. It was a beautiful pouch, black velvet with a white embroidered V on it. He couldn't help but trace the neat embroidery with a slender finger. He could tell from the stitches that Evie had put in a lot of effort and time into making this. His caretaker wasn't the richest, but she always did her best to provide for him. Smiling, the boy tucked the pouch gingerly back into his pocket. The last thing he needed was to lose or have it stolen, something that happened all too often to him.
Hands in his pocket, Valentino continued to make his way down the street. There was a shop he was looking for, a ring more specifically. He'd spotted it last week when he'd come down with Evie. It had stood out at him, a silver ring with a swan engraved in it. It had sung out to him, and he'd known from first sight that it was his to be had. And Evie, she had noticed him looking at it. She had even commented on how pretty it was.
As he approached the display window for the store one last time, Valentino placed his hand on the glass. It was still here, it would be his. Patting the pouch of coins in his pocket, Valetino entered the store.
Tink. Tink. Tink
The door gave off a gentle tinkle as Valentino opened the door. The store was clean and well lit, albeit slightly small in size. Lining the inside of the store were various shelves, all displaying various types of jewelry from necklaces to bracelets to earrings to more rings.
"Yes, may I help you dear?"
Upon hearing the voice, Valentino looked up quickly from the display case. And, he was greeted by the warm face of an elderly man. "Yes, I wanted to get the ring by the window. The silver one, with the swan engraved in it." The swan replied, his voice ringing with a melodious tint with excitement.
The elderly man gave the boy a warm smile. "Ah yes, I know which one you speak of. Wait here," He gave another smile to Valentino before disappearing behind a thick black curtain behind the window the retrieve the ring. Only a few seconds passed before the man reappeared. He held in his hand the opened box holding the swan ring. "I saw you looking at it before, last week or so. I kept it for you. In fact, a woman came in yesterday. She wanted to buy the ring as well." Reaching behind the counter, he wrapped it up neatly. "It'll be 15000 coins." The man said.
Valentino couldn't help but smile, clearly charmed by the old man's warm demeanor. "Thank you, I appreciate it very much. I saw it with my guardian. I knew it was what I wanted." He pulled out the pouch and counted the coins on the counter to the old man. "5000, 10000, and 15000." How sweet of Evie, she'd put in exactly the amount of coins he'd need to buy it. It was little things like that, that really made him love and appreciate the woman.
Finishing his purchase, Valentino gave the old man another grateful smile. "Thank you, I will wear it always." Tucking the jewelry box in his pocket beside the now empty pouch, he exited the store. He would put it on when he was back at the house with Evie.
"HAHA SUCKER!'
"YOU CAN'T CATCH US! LOSER! "
Two large teenagers came running past Valentino, shoving the swan roughly out of their way. Chasing after them came a child no older than 10.
"No! Stop! Come back!" The kid cried, tears streaming down his face. In his haste, the boy tripped and flew straight into the pavement. It caused for the child to cry all the harder.
"Are you okay?" Valentino asked, already reaching down to help the child. His voice was soft, trying to calm down the child. "Why were you chasing those people?" The swan asked, brushing the dust off the child's clothes. "Don't cry." He urged, wiping away at the boy's tears.
"They stole my money. I was going to get a gift for my mommy. She was sick, but the doctor said she can come home today. So, I wanted to get a present for her." The child continued to sniffle before bursting out in tears again. "Now I can't get her anything… I-I-I-I saved up that money just for h-her..."
As he listened to the child's story, Valentino's fingers brushed every so lightly against the lid of the jewelry box he'd obtained only moments ago. He didn't want to, but he knew exactly what it is he had to do. "… I see. Wait here." Petting the kid on the hair, Valentino got back on his feet. He disappeared into the jewelry store before coming out again a few moments later. "Use this to get your mom a gift. And this time, don't get it stolen." The Swan chided, placing the velvet pouch Evie had made for him into the child's hand. "Or else you will be in very big trouble." Ruffling the child's hair one last time, Valentino gave him a warm smile before shooing away the child.
"Thanks mister! Thanks a lot!" The boy cried out, more tears running down his cheeks. "Thank you so much."
Standing up, he watched as the boy ran off. Hands in his pocket, Valentino couldn't help but smile. "You're welcome. I hope that you find a wonderful gift for her." The gave the child one last wave before turning to make his way home.
Sure his pocket was emptier than when he'd left the house this morning, but his heart was warm. Evie would ask what he'd gotten and he would merely smile and change the conversation. She would
He would just get the ring another day. It was his ring, and it would be waiting for him.
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Posted: Wed Aug 15, 2012 4:30 pm
EYE OF THE (WHITE) TIGER Dust Name: Circe. ( "sur-see" )
Personality: Spirited, Haughty, Tenacious.
Prompt: Two.
Response: The city was swallowed in the dusk-orange haze of summer, streets packed tight with people in bright silks and long robes in between buildings that seemed as ancient as the gods themselves. It was a world all in its own, filled to the core with the excited, wordless babble of the late afternoon crowds beneath the damp heat that the sun provided them. It was nearly impossible to tell the rich districts from the poor apart from the shabbiness - or lack there of – of the buildings that occupied each place.
To an outsider, the city might seem like a maze itself; stairs leading to nowhere, alleyways and back streets littered with hidden jewels and half concealed doors painted with indecipherable signs. All manner of foreign tongues came from the different stalls and street markets; doctors and blacksmiths offering services next to banks and antique sellers with paintings and silk rugs hung out for show. To look at it from an eagle eye view would be to look at a mini-empire all on its own, pastures and farmland stretching on for miles beyond the city borders before drifting away into nothingness to the East, while the West was a wide expanse of ocean, surging against the shore as though it were a hungry beast. Many came to the city with no idea where to go, and many lived in the city still lost in their own homes like strangers to its curling, twisting roads and ancient, weaving streets.
Many, that was to say, but not all.
Circe perched on the rooftop far above the city streets below, the strong gusts of wind sending ripples through her clothes. Her city stretched out beneath her, a labyrinth; a maze that she knew like the back of her hand. Her tail lashed out, white and black catching gold streaks in the dusky gold-orange haze curling and uncurling in pleasure. Sharp, ice blue eyes preyed on the unsuspecting crowds below, and Circe inched forward, closer to the edge to get a better look. Thick tendrils of grey and black wafted up from the street-side vendors below, the smell of smoked meat and cooking quail drenched in spices drawing a purr from her lips.
This was her city, and she loved it. She loved every inch of it, down to its shabby, dirty rotten core.
Her ears pricked to the sound of something shrill and she turned, white hair lashed back by the wind beneath her light cloak. Below her and on the ground was a carriage of some grandeur; its occupant was obviously not trying to be demure at all in his arrival. And what a grand sight he was too, huffing and puffing as he crawled out of the side and clutched the footman’s forearm tightly as he clambered down, looking as though he would throw himself to the pavement and kiss the dirt at any moment. He was clothed in heavy, foreign silks, layered in one too many layers for the muggy heat of Ashmere’s summer sun. His thick belly was rivaled only by the round pudginess of his nose, cheeks a burnt crisp red. The man behind him carried his luggage, arms packed full of expensive suitcases and polished wooden crates.
Quickly, and with good reason as it seemed he was going to melt if he stood any longer out in the heat, the man shuffled forward, trailing silk after him as he tripped away from the carriage and into the cool, dark innards of the hotel, ushering for the luggage trodden man to follow. It was only after the carriage had rolled away and back into the crowd, and the bumbling, clumsy man had disappeared did she notice something shine on the ground; something that disappeared beneath the dark flap of embroidered blue silk, left behind in the wake of the master merchants downright clumsy arrival.
Circe’s tail hitched, ears quivering in curiosity. She stood and – with fearless precision – turned and leapt to the roof just left of her, boots clacking as the tigress continued her descent to the ground in calculated leaps and bounds. Dirt plumed around her feet when she landed, and stalking forward, the tigress folded in between the undulating crowd, maneuvering it with the false demure and simple of ease of someone with the most innocent, mundane life, unnoticed until the moment she wanted all eyes on her.
It was all a lie, really, but then, her talent for false-facing did have to go to some use after all.
The basket was just as demure as her act, and she kicked it into her hands while the footmen folded themselves together under the heat of the late afternoon sun, ignorant to the girl who seemed so at ease just beyond their reach. Circe pushed one hand beneath the cloth without lifting it entirely, and her fingers ghosted across something cold and smooth to the touch –
“ – Damned merchants come, always looking as though they’ll explode in the heat – “
“ – Heard he’s negotiating something good this time though; un-aged brandy they say, not even on the market yet, from the Isles – “
“- Brandy? The ones for near a full hundred gold coin’s a bottle? Imagine the caskets worth - ”
“If it’s as good as they say it is, his clients will be piling castles made of coin at his feet by tonight.”
Circe lifted the cloth even further and caught a glimpse of four bottles of dark liquid inside, each marked with simple gold engravings that gave each a different number of identification. A full hundred gold coins a bottle they’d said?
And that pudgy merchant had been so kind as to drop them straight into her arms.
“I’VE BEEN ROBBED!” The whole street seemed to shake from the ferocity of the howl, and Circe rolled her eyes. The roar continued though when someone tried to intervene, and she almost felt pity for them, “I can’t believe I – THOSE BOTTLES ARE WORTH A FORTUNE, IF YOU DON’T FIND THEM – “
A shrill voice came from inside the hotel; all but rattling the glass chandelier that sparkled within and making the footmen raise their brows in alarm. They rushed over each other in an attempt to see what all the fuss was about, but Circe had a different idea in mind.
Turning, the tigress plunged herself into the crowd, catching its currents and drifting along like a sea creature caught in the ever shifting push and pull. It was easy to maneuver it, twisting and turning and ducking under outstretched arms and men carrying armfuls of baskets and crates this way and that. She could hear the frantic rush of footsteps behind her, men in bright colors of the city guard falling upon the hotel like hornets to see what the entire ruckus was about.
She’d seen the city guard in action before; news spread from ear to ear like it was being passed along an invisible grape line, threading through the entirety of a district in seconds, minutes maybe. If something happened, if there was a widespread problem that needed to be solved, they would be on it like a hive all alerted to one singular cause. And they were smart, they were fast, they were good at their job and good at catching criminals. Yeah, they were brilliant even sometimes.
Circe worried her lip as she turned a sharp corner and took the stairs two at a time, an explosion of sound sheering away the density of the crowd somewhere behind her, people shouting out when they were rudely shoved aside, caskets and crates thundering as they were knocked to the ground. The guards were on the chase now like bloodhounds to a hunt. They just didn’t know their target. Not yet at least. The cloak billowed around her in waves, concealing her identity to the crowd. She even had the gall to smile when the pounding of boots and breathless conversations sounded somewhere behind.
Yes, they were brilliant even sometimes, but she was better.
The tigress landed on her feet at the bottom and turned into a narrow pathway filled with people. Boxes and crates were stacked haphazardly along the sides, cloth overhang’s shielding shopkeepers from the brutality of the sun. People screamed and pointed when she took the crates in three graceful leaps, catching the rims of the overhang’s with claws and pulling herself up. The guards were shouting something fierce, spreading out; what they wouldn’t do for rich merchants from far away – after all, the promise of perhaps a taste of world-famous brandy before its time on the market would make many lesser men do back-flips for a chance.
She turned another steep corner and – yes, perfect.
The girl took one bounding leap up onto the bench and vaulted over the balcony, tumbling into the side-street market below, landing with girlish ability amidst the crowd. A tigress always landed on her feet after all. Vendors paused in their shouts at the clamor to stare at the spectacle for a moment before continuing to appeal to the public, and as though recovering from a stone thrown into a pond, the crowd shifted back into a singular, undulating force, moving all around her without a clue, without another glance. Their whispers, however, still carried through the breeze.
“ – Did you see that – “
“ – What a strange little girl – “
Circe slowed to a trot as the sounds of muted panic above faded out, creating a lull in between the craze. A lull that she could use to her advantage, as she always did, because this was her city, and she knew it like the back of her hand. Knew the maze, knew the secret passages and back-alley wonderlands, knew the people, the heart of it all, and better yet, how to use it.
“In a hurry, I’m afraid,” She said when she stopped at one stall, flipping a gold coin to the man and helping herself to fresh greens. At another, her tail slipped out inconspicuously, knocking tomatoes and ripe cherries off of the table and into her waiting claws. She wore the guise of a young, unfamiliar street urchin sent out by a parent or a guardian, her lips curling into cool, demure smiles whenever someone looked her way.
She was almost near the end, almost to the part where it wasn’t a game of false-facing and smooth, cool elegance, but a game of cat and mouse, but a game where she might have to run.
Because of course, what fun would it be without a bit of a grand chase? Even one as painfully obvious and out in the open as this.
“You there!” A humorless voice shrilled from behind her, all scheduled in her mind, all predicted and right on time. “Stop, girl, I need to talk to you!”
She didn’t turn around, because she didn’t need to look to know it was a red-faced city guard hastily filled in on the missing goods, the fresh chase. Instead, her fingers hitched around the basket, and as soon as she turned the next corner, she burst into a run. Thrill and adrenaline spiked in her veins; though it wasn’t an honest to god trick where she could sneak away easily within the crowd unseen after picking someone’s purse dry, or slipping a valuable unseen into her pocket, it sure as hell was a similar rush that made her heart pump madly between her ribs, her body singing to her, I feel so, so alive.
The tigress took another staircase, turned another few corners until she was in yet another market, only this one was veiled from the sun by thick wooden beams above the roar of the crowd, wrapped with vines, the flowers amongst them in full bloom. The chatter of birds sang out to her, cages of every exotic creature imaginable lining stalls on either side, others selling valuable items, maps, mysteries.
She could see bright-coats peering over the tops of pedestrians, pushing them aside as they came closer, closer still. They yelled and shouted over the din, tripping and sliding and right on her tail.
But this was her city, and it kept her safe.
In one clean sweep, she knocked a mans legs out from under him, sending him tumbling into the next and watching as a domino effect appeared. There was a flurry of motion; a cage of owlcats had been knocked open, another few poor humans went stumbling over globes now rolling across the ground, courtesy of a tipped over table.
“Watch yourself,” She called to one man for effect before he was swallowed into the chaos. “Or not.” She purred quietly afterwards, stepping a few feet back and whirling on her feet, cloak billowing.
The tangle had the guards cursing, trying to part a suddenly undeniable human knot in the middle of the crowd.
“Move!” They all yelled; a singular entity divided amongst many bodies, “get out of the way! We are on business!” But humans rarely acquiesced to such demands in the heat of chaos, and surely not these ones at all.
Circe couldn’t help but smile, twirling on her feet as she kicked open a few more cages in her wake. Her lips flashed wickedly when someone cried out as owlcats and sharkbirds darted through the chaos, whizzing about and nipping at each other and diving in between poor, useful little pedestrian-appearing pawns. She maneuvered to the end of the street with ease, and slipped around the corner while the racket continued to carry on, her fingers catching on the edge of an empty basket as she danced easily out of sight.
The next person to round it got a discarded basket in the face, blue silk floating through the air and landing delicately on tufts of dark brown hair. Laughter spilled out from above him, but before he got the chance to look, he was being seized, yelling, “Wait, what are you doing? Stop, please!”
Circe peered down at him from where she’d climbed; perched safely above on one of the pergola’s thick wooden beams, tail slipping out over the blooming flowers and deep green vine. The bright-coats had taken her bait; she had little more to fear on the way home now than the thieves of the streets. And they all knew she was better than them; at least the ones that had enough brains in their head to understand the chain of invisible command.
Sorry, my sweet, she thought without sympathy, your sacrifice was necessary for my escape.
But he’d be released soon enough; she was sure; just not soon enough that she couldn’t slip away. Now toting a new basket, goods jangling around inside beneath a plain, woven lid with a few parts torn through by ambitious creatures, Circe stood up, the feline-like grace in her steps as she continued her path, vaulting from the pergola to ground, the sound of ebbing chaos still music in her ears.
She was on the stretch home now, though for safeties sake she winded through the Merchant’s district instead of taking a straight path home. She discarded the lightweight cloak behind a few crates, pawning one away from a secondhand shop she knew well instead and throwing it over her shoulders just as the sun turned molten gold, a crust of color along the horizon as it dipped down slowly, bringing forth nightfall. The shop owner wished her well with a knowing grin, disappearing behind castles of books and birdcages that crowded the space.
Straight across from the Merchants district was the thick miasma of the Narrows, a hideaway for thieves and thugs alike beneath the constant scent of smoke and rum in the air, bars and taverns a common sight. Sailors from the marina gathered here after a hard day of work, and their rowdy catcalls could be heard from all over, a constant music in the air. Brothels and shops linked roads together, and many might have found this place the least pleasant of all of her city, but to Circe, it was one of the best parts. Her tail flicked as she passed a few sailors on their way to the Cauldron for gambling and rum, and she waggled her fingers at them and they cheered in return when she tossed a coin pouch heavy still with birthday money at them.
“Gamble away the night, boys,” She said above the smoke and the scent of bitter, dark rum, “make some good use out of my coins.” They tipped their hats and pounded heavy fists against their chests merrily, calling, “thank ya kindly, madam!” at the top of their lungs. She left with a laugh as the sun slipped beneath the horizon, and the sky turned a dark, dusky blue, highlighted with violets and rustic gold.
It was when she was stepping across the bridge from the Narrows to the real home stretch that she was caught.
A hand reached out and circled her forearm, pulling her around so that she was now walking wherever the man wanted to go, their arms locked together at the elbow. She knew at once who he was, and unable to help herself, let out an icy, dangerous growl.
“I was out doing daily rounds today,” Tolke began humorlessly, as though merely talking to a rock, or perhaps an unfortunately placed tree, “when I heard a peculiar story about a stolen basket containing priceless brandy. The thief was too obscured to be recognized apart from gender, but I heard she slipped away.”
“My,” Circe responded without missing a beat, “what a strange tale! You must tell me more.”
Her tone was nearly sharp enough to cut someone in half, but unaffected, the man continued on as if he hadn’t heard. Or rather, chose not to bother commenting back. Yes, he was definitely pretending to talk to an unfortunately placed tree.
“I’ve been told to keep a lookout for it. The other captains seem to believe the Narrows is where all of the thieves come to celebrate their victories, so they come whining to me with their failures at the hands of a master thief.” He narrowed his eyes and stared down at her, as though finally acknowledging her ability to breathe, “You seem to be carrying something you weren’t this morning.”
“Oh, what a fine eye you have,” Circe quipped in response with a flattering smile. “Have you anything else of grand observance you’d like to share with me?”
“Drop it.”
“Drop what?”
“Your act.” Tolke sighed, releasing her as they found themselves safely away from the Narrows and so very close to home. “It’s rather unnecessary here of all places, dont you think?”
Circe’s false-facing smile fell apart in an instant, replaced by cool indifference as her tail lolled back and forth behind her, twitching in agitation. She pulled back the hood of her newly acquired cloak and shook out the snow-white locks, staring Tolke straight in the eyes with an icy blue glare.
“You are absolutely no fun and my act is just fine. It helps me with maintaining the element of surprise; no one would expect a poor peasant girl can kick anyone’s a**.” She told him, and in one graceful sweep, placed the basket in his hands. “Or, in my case, everyone’s a**. Here, see, have a look. I swear nothings stolen in there.”
“Which only goes to show that you are tempting the Goddess to smite you for lying.”
“You are such a faithless creature. Goddess have mercy on your blackened soul.”
Tolke flipped back the lid, his expression unchanged towards the sight of not bottles but greens, cherries and tomatoes and bottles full of spice hap hazardously arranged into a sort of organized chaos.
He rustled around with it for a few moments in half-hearted interest, and she stuck her nose up when he stole a few cherries for himself, slipping one in between his teeth.
“There now,” She finally announced after a few minutes, making to snatch back her basket, “I’ve proven my innocence and really must be going, thank you.”
Tolke snorted, obviously not impressed nor convinced, though she could care less what he thought. Still though, he allowed her to snatch back the basket and stalk a few paces away, tail lashing from side to side.
“Oh, and be a doll,” Circe told him over her shoulder, her voice accented by a thick growl, “go round us up some arsonists and petty little thieves. It’ll prove more successful results for you.”
She turned and stepped away from him in graceful, fierce strides, basket swaying back and forth, the gentle clink of bottles somewhere buried inside echoing off the streets. Tolke stared after her, scowling, but she had him in the palm of his hands whether he wanted to believe it or not. He stepped after her, and touching his hand to his sword belt, called out, “And why is that, my dear, sweet tigress?”
Circe glanced over her shoulder as she pulled herself up onto the railing of an outdoor alcove, her tail lashing back and forth as one hand moved to pull the hood back over her ears. She flashed him a cool, precise smile, an untamed ferocity sharp and unhidden in her eyes; the true nature of the princess all thieves would one day bow their heads and asses to if they were capable of any brain power whatsoever.
“Because I am, and always will be out of your league, captain!” She called back at him, and he could do nothing but watch in disdain and burnt pride as she disappeared over the railing and into the streets below, the empress of the labyrinth that this city was at its very core, the haughty queen that knew it, treasured it, and loved it down to its dirt-rotten heart.
One day someone would push her off her high horse, her brazenly made throne. He just hoped he was around to see the fall.
♚ x ♚ x ♚
“You’re late.” Grim said without missing a beat, without even looking up from his book when she entered the room and dropped her basket unceremoniously on the dark, lacquered table to announce her arrival. “Why am I not surprised?” He added, almost to himself.
“And she’s on dinner service,” A redhead said from the kitchen with a grin, his face mischievous in the dim light that the hung chandelier above them provided. The Meraggio’s house was nothing short of an exotic paradise; its front was demure, just as they all sometimes feigned to be, but past the entrance was a maze like a miniature version of the city itself, rooms hidden beneath staircases and hidden studies built behind bookcases and stuffed to the brim with the skeletons of creatures Grim himself had collected.
There was a reason for his nickname, after all.
“Dinner service?” Echoed another boy, identical to him, appearing from the staircase, his hand around a thick leather-bound book detailing the entire history of the eastern kingdom, Helena. “Should we really trust Circe of all of us with such an extensive and delicate task?”
The tigress pulled off her cloak and tossed it at both of them with a growl, watching in idle amusement when they both scurried out of the way.
“Alas, should you?” She responded smoothly, tugging at her plain leather boots and kicking them off; Grim had expressly forbidden her to wear the shark-skin ones outside of visits to the shadier districts of their city, the ones that she’d only just gotten, the very best ones with sharp steel kicking spikes so that she could never go unarmed. This left her in a plain white tunic covered by a black vest that she set about unlacing as she stomped towards the kitchen behind the dining table with a precise, cat-like grace.
“Perhaps I shall just spike the food, and in your absence finally find a reprieve from your hell.” Her voice dipped into an inhuman growl, and she shouldered past them with her basket to the kitchen. The twins laughed and pulled themselves to the table with Grim where they began to shuffle an ancient deck that they’d pawned off of an old antique shop before an unwelcome accident burnt it down to the ground.
“I do hope you put that birthday money I sent you off with to good use,” Grim said above the din, eyes flickering from his ancient book to the tigress.
Her lips curled, and knowing that money was most likely on its way into the pockets of sailors and lesser men to be pick pocketed sooner or later by thieves, she tossed her hair over her shoulder, sending him a fierce, predatory look. “Oh, there is no better use it could have been put towards, I assure you.”
Grim sighed and went back to his book, but not before telling them all that he’d have more books for them to read by morning, and Arithmancy lessons would take place instead of dessert that night. By then though, his three present little shits were quite used to the day-in and day-out routine of prescribed reading and mathematical quizzes out of the blue, dinners spoken on one language and breakfasts in another. Grim educated them in all areas - how to play a rich man, how to play a poor man, how to con a merchant and how to beat a sailor in a rigged card game, how to speak with an accent and how to recite century old poetry without missing a beat. Because above all else they were all actors, and the world was their stage.
The footfalls of another came in through the front door, and all of them glanced up as a boy with pale features and turquoise eyes came through, his smoky black hair catching light in the chandeliers smoldering firelight. He shed a cloak to reveal simple clothing, staring at all four of them with a studious look.
“I am glad to see that the house is still standing after leaving you alone all day,” He told Grim, plucking the book from the mans hands, ignorant to his displeased grunt. “And that the whole city is still alive, considering you were let out of into the streets,” The young adult continued, glancing towards the tigress. She flicked her tail at him with a growl, her lips curling into an icy smile.
“This is my city, why ever would I want it in ashes?”
He stared at her for a long moment, and sighing, dropped the book back in his father’s lap. “You say that for now.” He returned. Circe laughed and gestured for him to come closer.
“You’re helping me with dinner,” She ordered when Stephen went instead for the bookshelf and a chair, and after a moment of deliberation, he sighed and acquiesced with a grudging frown.
“So, if not burning the city to ashes, what have you been up to instead all day long? Teaching sailors how to dance?” He inquired when they began the preparation work, glancing over at her as she dug for their ingredients. Tonight they would be creating a delicacy known out at sea and somewhere far away that they’d only ever read about in books; the two had been practicing for awhile now under Grim’s careful supervision. If there was one thing he would have them all learn by the time they were old, it was how not to cook like they ate pig s**t every night.
“You’ll see,” Circe waved a knife at him and passed one of the main ingredients over to the older boy, a baby shark fresh off the market. “Don’t worry, my darling, its nothing that will kill you, I’m sure.”
“Not at all by your standards perhaps,” Stephen said at once, pulling at her tail when it got too close, “Not all of us are as good as outrunning guards for a living, princess.”
“Queen.”
“That is yet to be proven, my sweet sister.”
“To some.”
They turned their attention back to the sharks, which were too be hollowed out and stuffed with peppers and spices, blood cheese that would melt while it cooked. The fins and tail would be used for the soup, and a salad had already been prepared earlier that day. Dinner tonight would be a treat. Circe glanced at the basket and grinned.
What a real treat indeed.
Sometime after they’d began stuffing the little devils with peppers Grim stood up, excusing himself from the kitchen with the express desire that when he came back, it was not on fire. He disappeared into the upstairs studies, nose buried deep into a book with no title scribbled along its spine.
“So,” Stephen said finally when the door clicked closed, exasperated and trying desperately not to just look in Circe’s newly acquired basket, “what have you brought home for us tonight? Nothing acquired through… questionable means, I hope?”
“Not at all, my sweet,” Circe told him, waving a knife absently and raising a brow when he leaned back to avoid its edge, “believe me, Grim will love it.”
“Circe,” The older boy said gravely, waving a shark tail at her in retaliation with a flat stare to rival her fierce, haughty expression, “you are my sister, and I love you, but the four most dangerous words in all of Amies and its great rivaling nations are ‘Grim will love it.’”
“Followed only by ‘Circe taught me a new trick.’” One of the twins, Ellory, returned sarcastically from the table. Amery, his brother, snickered, and in neat, quick strokes, they began setting the table, working in perfect harmony with each other like two halves of a whole.
Once the intricate dinner had finally been plated, Circe took the brandy from the bottom of the basket and presented one to Stephen, who stared at it like it was going to burn him and refused to touch it when she stuffed it towards his hands.
“Nononono,” He said, ever the diligent and prudent member of the family, if only because no one else wanted to be, “That was you? You stole it?” His eyes flicked to her, and snatching the bottle away, the dark haired young adult waved it in her face, “men are hung for lesser crimes!”
Circe flipped a tail nonchalantly, and when she snatched it back and opened seal, she couldn’t help but take pleasure in the way the older boy nearly winced, looking like he was about to faint. “Thankfully I am no man then,” She said haughtily, sweeping glasses out the cabinet with an audible click of claws. “And,” She purred, looking over her shoulder at him and batting her lashes, “I’m too good to be caught.”
“My dear, sweet, mad little sister,” Stephen sighed, pressing the palm of his hand to his head, “why must your taste for thievery never end at picking the pockets of drunkards and alley cats?”
“Because my talents are far more impressive than that.” Circe paused as she set the dark bottle on the table, leaning her hip against the polished wood. “Though I must admit,” She continued, “that this was one of my more improvised moments.”
“Improvised here having the meaning of I came, I saw, I stole.” The boy shook out his dark hair, beginning to set plates on the table, just as Grim’s footsteps echoed on the staircase above, making them all look up and shape themselves just a bit more elegantly for his inevitable arrival.
"Veni, vidi, vici," She recited with a fierce, prideful look. Stephen scoffed, but she only smiled at him and curtsied, waltzing backwards and up the stairs to change.
When she returned, her tunic and breeches switched out for a white dress with black lace spilling out beneath it at the end, Grim was drinking brandy out of a glass and prodding his prepared delicacy with a look of mild scrutiny. She curtsied to him mockingly, stepping closer. Without preamble, she glanced down at her mentor and asked, “what do you think?”
“Of the shark,” Grim questioned, “or the brandy, I wonder?”
He pushed the bottle with a finger, staring at it for a long moment. “Ah, what a fine meal.” He exhaled with genuine pleasure, and Circe took that as acceptance enough to take her seat. She would have anyways, even if he’d told her it tasted like s**t, though the promise of not having a knife thrown at her head was always a welcome start. Twirling a lace ribbon, the tigress leaned forward to swipe her prize bottle from the table, only to have it snatched away by Grim before she had the chance.
He made a tut-tut sound deep in his throat, examining the engravings. “And what a fine selection of drink to go along with it as well.” He said with an air of dangerous amusement, knowledgeable of more than he let on. “I am sure you paid good coin for this, Circe. Did all of that birthday money I gave to you go towards it, I wonder?”
Circe raised her eyebrows at him, twirling her fork between her fingers to make it dance, and jabbing it into one of the twins wandering hands when it got too close. “Oh yes,” She purred with a slow smile, “down to the last little copper. Stephen even helped me out with coming up with the funds.” She turned her attention towards him with a smile. “Didn’t you?”
“Shamefully,” Stephen lied in return without missing a beat, stabbing his shark in the eye; thankfully the black little irises had been replaced with olives.
“Alas then,” Grim announced dramatically with grandeur, flourishing his hands, fork included, in the air like a sword, “whatever am I to do but enjoy this fine, innocently obtained brandy that my youngest little s**t has presented to me?”
And thankfully, he did just that.
♚ x ♚ x ♚
“One day,” Grim sighed later that night after lecturing the tigress to metaphorical death on the dangers of going a little too far, leaning on the balcony railing and staring up at the night sky, “one day you will ******** up so magnificently, so grandly, so arrogantly that the sun and the moon will s**t comets and all of the stars will rain down upon us, and the Goddess herself will come down from the heavens just to smite you.”
A cigarette hung in his lips, one of the bottles open in his hands. He simply drank from it without glass or any sort of formality, almost an insult to its manufacturers, which made the experience all the more worth it in the end. Circe blinked down at him from her perch on the shabby roof, the dusky sky above him blinking with stars and wafting with smoke. The lights of the Narrows shined from across the canal that cut through, like the dim embers of a fire freshly gone out, even the roar of tavern brawls and men fresh from work could be heard even here.
“Oh please,” She rolled her eyes, leaning back and stretching her hands above her head, “I’ll do even better than that.”
The tigress listened to the sound of Grim’s laughter and the deep swig that he took from the bottle, staring up at the night sky above. Maybe she would ******** up someday. Maybe she would ******** up so badly that all the stars would rain down on him, and the sun and the moon would s**t comments, and the goddess herself would come down and shake her hand…
“One day.” Grim repeated, staring out at the city’s maze.
“Maybe,” Circe replied for the sake of replying, rolling the word on her tongue, “but not tonight.”
The man laughed, a deep, rich sound. “No.” He agreed quietly. “Not tonight.”
Finally, she leapt down from her perch on the slanting roof and joined the man at the railing, a comfortable silence drawing over them as they stare out at the dim embers that map the maze. Her icy blue eyes took in the sight of it all, never old, never tiresome, but never quite new either. It settled somewhere in the middle; an old friend with fresh surprises each and every day.
And she loved it. From the rich, traveling merchants to the street markets and the sailors that made up the sound of night. From the thieves and the orphans and the bright-coats in the streets. She loved it all, her city, her maze, her home beneath the stars.
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Posted: Sat Aug 18, 2012 2:22 pm
EYE OF THE (WHITE) TIGER
Dust Name: Serenity
Personality:Elegant, Generous, Protective
Prompt: 1
Response: It was a cool,crisp morning and Serenity set out early with the crush velvet coin purse that had a pink rose embroidered on it that her guardian had given her. Serenity wanted to get to town early so she could pick out the best gift that wasn't too price but was still nice. The town wasn't very busy yet so Serenity took her time looking in each and every window, taking mental notes of what she liked and what she thought Gwen would like as well. She was always thinking of others, especially her guardian.
Serenity stopped in front of the a boutique and spied the most gorgeous dress.It was a long, elegant white dress with black sequins. She looked at the tag and then counted her money. Surprised by the generosity of her guardian, Serenity walked into the shop, "Greetings Miss." the cheerful shop owner greeted her. "How May I help you?" the woman asked.
"Yes I would like to buy this dress." Serenity replied as she brought the dress to the counter.
"Very well." she lady said and rang up the dress and Serenity handed over the proper amount of coins.
She still had quite a bit left, so she looked around the shop
"Is there anything else you would?" the woman asked
"I'll let you know" she replied
The shop keeper nodded and Serenity continued browsing the shop.
Gwen was not the type to spare expense as they lived in among the wealthy. Serenity finally found what she was looking for and spotted a ring that would suit her guardian. It was a diamond and sapphire setting. She walked up to the counter and paid for the ring.
"Have a good day Miss" the shop keeper said as Serenity left the shop.
It was almost sunset by time Serenity started to head home. passed through the poor district of town so she could get home quickly. The last house she passed had a girl sitting on the front porch playing while her mother tried to find food to fix for supper. Serenity walked up to the little girl.
"Hold your hands out." she said softly.
The child nodded and did so. Serenity took the rest of the coins that were in her purse and placed them in the girls hand. She child smiled brightly and ran into the house to show her mother and Serenity waved and smiled as she walked on by. When she got home Serenity showed Gwen what she had bought and also gave her guardian her gift as well. Serenity was told to get dressed and wear her new dress cause she was going to go out for dinner and Gwen was paying. It was the best birthday a tigress could hope for.
((Hope it's not too long))
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Posted: Mon Aug 20, 2012 6:12 am
EYE OF THE (WHITE) TIGER
Dust Name: Bhadra
Personality: Bold, Kind, Adventurous
Prompt: 2
Response:
Why anyone would leave a basket in the middle of the road like this was very questionable to Bhadra, even more curious was the fact that it was on its side and not standing up as it should be. The tigress glanced around quickly, voice raising so the few wandering people around could hear her as she yelled. “Hey! Does this belong to anyone?” Some gave her a quick glance that told her she was being rude by yelling, others simply ignored her and continued on their way. It really was none of Bhadra business to be looking into the contents, but maybe it would give her a clue as to who the owner was? After all, this could potentially lead to a small journey around the village as she tried to figure out where the owner was.
Bending down, Bhadra removed the blue and peered inside at the content. The basket seemed relatively empty, there was a soft, plush blanket that was the same color as the cloth atop the basket, and it looked covered by some animal hair. There were a few toys scattered too, a tiny ball of yarn that was slightly shredded, a mouse made of some course material, and some fish looking toy made from the same material as the ball. There was no doubt about it, whoever had left this basket in the middle of the road had meant for someone to find some sort of feline. Now, Bhadra wondered where the feline was and why, if someone had taken the feline, hadn’t they taken the basket?
Bhadra was sure the feline had gotten out of the basket somehow, if she left it to the streets it would surely die out here. A quick glance at the sun told her she still had a few hours until it would get dark and there would be no chance of finding it. First things first though, Bhadra needed to find a place to hide the basket so no one could take it while she was searching. Grabbing the cloth cloth, she stuffed it into the basket and got off the street to find an alleyway. Bhadra found what she was looking for a few paces from where she'd originally found the basket, the alley could barely fit a person and it looked like people were using it to store garbage. This was where she left the basket and went back onto the street.
From what Bhadra could gather, the only person who could have seen something was the old woman sitting on a chair outside of a shop. This is where she headed first, expression set to determination, she stalked right up to the elderly and stood in front of her. “What is it dear?” The woman didn’t even turn towards Bhadra, she simply kept looking in front of her, how odd... “I need to know if you saw who took the cat from the basket.” There was a long pause, one that made the tigress’s tail twitch. “I’m blind, I can only tell you what I have heard.” Well, this certainly made things harder. “What could a blind old woman possibly tell me that could help?” The old woman finally turned towards Bhadra, her milky white eyes staring straight into the pale blue of the predator. “I can tell you they smelled of rotten fish and of the sea. Perhaps, you should start your journey at the local fisheries.”
It felt like a staring contest as Bhadra grew silent now, feeling foolish but still determined to keep some of her dignity, however times a wasting and Bhadra took off just as quickly as she’d approached the old woman. It made sense that someone had taken the cat to the docks, ships liked to keep cats on their ships so they could get rid of the rats that liked to travel and eat up the food stocked up. The docks were a little ways off, but the tigress was determined to make it even if she bumped and almost knocked some people to the ground as she ran through the streets. When she arrived, she zoned in right on the group of boys that were by one of the ships, one of them holding a tiny white ball of fur over the side of the desk as if he wanted to throw the kitten overboard.
There was no stopping her. Bhadra wove through the crowd, eyes narrowing as she readied to pounce onto her prey once she got close enough.
He threw the kitten into the water.
Time slowed, Bhadra opened her mouth to roar as she tackled the boy over the deck into the water after the kitten. The water was like hitting a wall, it was so cold and it took a while for Bhadra to release the boy, clawing him in the process as her head came up for air to search for the kitten. It was swimming even against the waves, meowing loudly probably from the cold and the drop. Bhadra headed for it first, grabbing it by one hand and holding it up above her head so it would be no where near the water. She could hear the boy behind her babbling and yelling that he couldn’t swim, she growled under her breath. It was already hard enough to swim with one hand, if she didn’t get him out of the water she was going to get into a lot of trouble.
Feeling her energy leaving her, Bhadra swam over to the boy who immediately grabbed onto her, half drowning the tigress in the process until she told him where to grab onto or she was leaving him out for the fishes. He complied and she swam both back to shore, leaving the boy to heave as others approached to make sure he was okay. Bhadra approached him, bending down into his face and growling, her hand went back and she slapped him right across the face. "Don't you ever, DARE, try throwing another kitten into the water. If I hear you're doing it, and I will hear from people, I will come for you," her voice lowered. "And make sure you don't come out of the water. Clear?" The boy starred up at her head nodding slowly
Bhadra left then, opening up her shirt and sticking the kitten in so it could at least gain some warmth from her. She decided it was best to walk back and soak up the sun, she was slightly annoyed when the kittens head popped it’s head up and people stared at her chest, but she ignored them and found the basket once more. There was no way she was handing this kitten to anyone right now. Taking the kitten out of her shirt, she placed it in the basket once more and closed the cloth, Bhadra was taking it home.
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Posted: Mon Aug 20, 2012 11:22 pm
NO UGLY DUCKLING HERE! Dust Name: Venice.
Personality: Regal, Logical, Assertive.
Prompt: One.
Response:Eternity is a meaningless word to those that do not understand the concept of time.
But to a man who does understand, the word becomes cruel and unrelenting, a taunt for something that in of itself is a lie. The ticking of the clock is slow and unyielding, the passage of today into tomorrow a steady collection of non-definitive acts that make up an equally non-definitive life. There are things that become apparent to them almost at once, things that alienate one from the other by the simple fact that they are not the same and never will be; that one is mortal, a simple man, and the other is not. The delineation of their roles becomes clear, and thus, so does their relationship. Simple questions permeate their existence together, always stale and unanswered in the air. Who are you? Why are you here? Most importantly though, how long will you stay with me?
Today becomes tomorrow, their life a series of non-definitive acts.
One day there is a leather pouch full of coins on the table.
He doesn’t ask why.
♚ x ♚ x ♚
It is all logical, he thinks to himself, it is all logical, so it should not bother me.
But it does.
The leather pouch feels unnaturally heavy against his side, like a burden he’s been tasked with, or an obligation he took without realizing the consequence of it all. The morning market shifts and ebbs around him, a thick flow of humans, the scent of fresh rain heavy in the air. It is the season for it, after all, when the city itself is turned into a mirror, reflecting those that walk its streets in the clear pools of water that the sky leaves behind. Venice places a hand over his side, and thinks again, it is all logical.
But the words sink like stones in his gut, and they echo back at him, no, it is not logical at all.
Coming to terms with this, though, is easier said than done. Because if he were to look at it the way it should be looked at, the way it really is, than he would realize that somewhere along the line, in between the blur of days into nights, and moments into memories, they became close enough that it started to matter to him, the event that took place a year ago today. And was it Venice’s fault? Had he somehow overstepped an invisible boundary and created the illusion that they were more than friendly strangers? Their roles had clearly been aligned at the start, the delineation of their relationship keeping any inevitable wound of time at bay.
Because eternity is a meaningless word, and in of itself a lie.
And the more pressing question was had he meant to, without realizing it?
Venice stops and buys a book, a map, a silver ring in the shape of overlapping feathers. Even a violin bow is added to the tally as well. The pouch diminishes in size, but only by a little. These trivial materialistic items are counted into his inventory for the sake of obligation, and to keep his mind off of the uncertainties now circling his mind. He brushes shoulders with city-goers, catches their scent and their loud, wordless conversations. The threat of rain has them up in arms, the swan prince forgotten in their midst.
He disappears between their shadows, and thinks, if it is not logical, what is it then?
He knows the answer, but it does not come to his lips.
♚ x ♚ x ♚
She is very beautiful, the lady who is introduced as a saint, a sinner, a sister, and most importantly, a friend. Venice is left with her one day, because one day, the huntsman decides that he is in need of a trip out of town. She asks what the swan wants to drink, and he inquires quietly about tea. When the sky cracks open, and the rain washes away the color of the world in dusk-grey hues, they sit under the porch and she indulges him in conversation he is not quite sure he wants to have, though it is much better than being part of her project inside, which consists of the dissection of dead things, and the consideration of the organs in little glass jars.
“He used to have a lover,” she says at one point, staring up at the sky.
At once he realizes that this is not a subject he should be privy to; a memory surfaces, and logic tells him that they are friendly strangers and nothing more, and this breach of privacy, this information that is being passed along by a second-hand tongue, is a danger to the unsaid agreement between the two to stay simply as that and nothing more.
But guiltily he asks what happened to her, and she smiles and says, “time.”
Next, he asks if he still wants her, even though she is gone.
“Well,” The woman laughs pleasantly, sitting up just a little taller, “you can’t throw a stone into water and expect the water to stay calm. Actions always have consequences. There’s nothing small enough, demure enough that it does not go without its own aftermath.”
The metaphor circles his head for a long moment before it sinks in, but then he tells her that doesn’t answer his question, and she stares at him for a long moment, as though appraising the mental maturity of her temporary charge, and whether or not these words should so easily be given away. In the end though, she sighs, and fumbles around for something in her pocket, but her attention never wavers, never strays from him.
“The laws of entropy ensure that heat, once lost, can never be regained.”
She lights a cigarette, and the smoke curls upwards into the rain soaked sky.
“Desire is much like heat.”
♚ x ♚ x ♚
It is unruly like him, and so Venice buys it.
It is unruly, and unwanted, and not at all a very aesthetic thing to stare at, so he pays out more money than it’s worth and takes it home in a box. And all the while he is thinking, I am making a mistake. This is illogical. This is not safe.
Because at this point it is easy to see that he is falling, that they are both falling, and when they reach the bottom there will be no one there to put the pieces back together, and it is unclear who was first to overstep and feel the ground beneath them give way. And he could stop it, stop everything, but he knows at the same time that he doesn’t want to; that where the man is mortal, and he is not, they both share similar emotions; loneliness, want.
Humans are born with gaps in them, gaps and spaces that others are meant to fill, like a puzzle that is not yet complete. And it is a simple understanding; if one fills those gaps and spaces, than loneliness cannot exist. But if one does not, they are invincible to the wounds that so hauntingly trail the promise of friendship, or romance, or something as simple as strangers who happen to know each other well. So it is a simple question of whether or not the loneliness or the irrevocable pain is more worth it. And at this point, Venice’s mind says that the loneliness is tolerable, and Venice’s heart is saying that it is not. Venice himself says nothing at all, because when the body and the mind begin to fight between two desires, there is little to do but wait it out.
But he already knows that he is caving. He makes mistakes, too many, thousands perhaps. He makes them and he learns from them, and then he repeats each and every one. And they all compromise a series of non-definitive acts, because – and he realizes this too late, - a relationship does not need to be built off of dramatic declarations, or actions that leave impressions to last clearly through the years. What he once imagined were simple interactions of necessity has slowly but surely wound its way into a solid bond that neither of them wanted – or perhaps it is more accurate to say that it is a solid bond that both of them would rather resist.
Because there is the inevitability of time, and moving away, and marriage and love, and the slow decay of contact that will burn him to the core. It is only logical, after all. And even if not logical, it is inevitable, that this, them, cannot last, will not last. And the question is there; why would you give in? Surely loneliness cannot compare to the irrevocable damage that the combination of relationships and time can.
The box jostles, and Venice blinks down at it, broken out of an untimely reverie.
He sighs and shifts it in his hands, brings it home, dumps it on the table and broods as he waits.
When the huntsman comes home, he seems to consider the box for a long moment with scrutiny and suspicion and clear interest, assessing its meager qualities before finally asking, “What is this?”
“A gift.” Venice stares up from his book, the silver ring on his finger, the map folded neatly on the table by the chair. “Happy anniversary,” He adds as an explanation, calmly, dryly, even knowing it is a mistake.
“That is,” The man pauses, struggles for something to say even as he inspects the box from head to metaphorical toe, pushing it with a few calloused fingers as he tries to string together words, “a bit far. We had an agreement, didn’t we?”
Venice inspects him for a long moment, dark eyes unreadable. His fingers scratch at the edge of the books leather binding, a nervous tick. “The leather pouch you left on the table this morning,” He returns flatly.
“What about it?”
“That was a bit far, wasn’t it?” Venice replies with a regal, commanding air about him, though something in his tone is challenging, daring the other to deny his words. “You took the first step.” Friendly strangers don’t care about birthdays, after all. Venice's eyes turn back to his book.
“That’s…”
But the huntsman doesn’t reply, because there is no reply, no excuse that he can give. His expression pulls tense for a moment before he relaxes, shoulders rolling back, fingers hitching beneath the box’s lid and pulling up. The contents jostle violently, and suddenly there is the sound of flesh on flesh, teeth sinking into skin and the undeniable howl of pain and indignant rage, though from which party is as of yet unclear.
“What is this?” The huntsman shakes his arm violently, but the raggedy creature continues to stay hooked on his arm, growling and slobbering and all manner of wild. Venice closes his book with a sigh and stands up, approaching the man and prying sharp teeth away from soft flesh with effort.
“Your present.” He reiterates, holding it out to him by its scruff. It barks once, twice, and snarls, long, knife-like claws reaching out towards the man as it wriggles in Venice's grip.
“This is not a present.”
“No one else wanted it.” There is a note of pity in his tone.
“And I do?”
“Yes.” Venice drops it on the huntsman, much to his chagrin, dusting bright grey hairs from the palms of his hands as he delivers the burden onto its new owner. “I have already gone to the trouble of giving it a name for you. And it is rude to return a gift.”
“Venice, I am not going to be responsible for –“
“A gentleman,” Venice says shrewdly, “would say thank you.”
The huntsman stares down at the wriggling ball of fat and fur, slobbering and gnawing loudly on one of his arms. “You could have picked a better present.” He says ruefully instead, tugging at what he imagines is a very scruffy tail. The thing gives off an ear-piercing yowl and savagely bites its way up his arm, claws scratching and tearing at the tunic he wears.
“I could have.” The Dust responds calmly, unfurling his wings and stretching them to the side. “It fits you though.” He substitutes quietly, as an afterthought. The huntsman shrugs and takes a seat, slobbering mongrel and all.
"It's unkind to add insult to injury," He admonishes, and then almost warily, “What did you name it?”
Venice glances at the creature, and reaching, pets its head, avoiding the slobbering maw with dignified grace.
This is a mistake, he thinks as he mutters the name out loud, one that I cannot fix. And maybe the huntsman is thinking it too, thinking that their agreement at the beginning to stay as nothing more than friendly strangers has all but turned to ash. Because it is not as scary to lose someone when they mean little more than just that, when eternity means little more than a lie.
But then, Venice muses quietly and to himself, perhaps it is just as scary to be alone.
But which is worse? Which is the one that will scar in the end?
The Dust hums faintly to himself, twisting the silver ring. Only time will tell.
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Posted: Tue Aug 21, 2012 11:37 am
EYE OF THE (WHITE) TIGER
Dust Name: Avala
Personality: Imperious, decisive, literal
Prompt: 1
Response:
The zoo was not ready for Avala. The sleepy-eyed clerk barely had time to mutter a perfunctory greeting before he was forced to heave off his stupor and stare. It was impossible not to as the snow-headed child swept in with the pomp of a retinued queen, bearing her treasure chest (it was a battered velvet pouch with the silhouette of a cartoon cat's head stitched onto the flap, obtained second-hand and much used from a female friend of yours, back when bestowing your charge with items that alluded to her feline nature had still felt a novelty) aloft with unrivalled dignity. She was small yet, but had impeccable poise and style; her blinding eyes, ringed by the unusual (and yet disturbingly familiar, the clerk might have thought) stripes, could eat you alive. At four foot six she was already an empress. No, the zoo was not ready for Her Majesty, but who could ever be? You certainly hadn't been.
"I wish to adopt a white tiger," she announced. The clerk's stare evolved into a gawk. When her intent gaze did not let up, he finally mumbled, "Uhm, have you talked to your parents about this, little girl?"
"I do not have parents," she declared, "and I do not see why I should have to talk to them about this if I did. I have a Guardian, but I do not see the need to speak to him of it either. It is my money, part gifted, most saved. I am to spend it on anything I like, and this is what I choose."
The clerk scratched his head, fumbled under the desk, fished out the appropriate form, and peered suspiciously at the fine print, "I...I can't find it right now, but I'm sure there should be something about a minimum age, and you don't look like you're more than...thirteen? Fifteen?"
She frowned, "My age is beyond mortal understanding. I am far more aware and capable than your thirteen and fifteen year olds. There is no one more qualified than I to adopt a white tiger."
The clerk made a small, hissed sound of annoyance as he finished sweeping the text on the form, the elusive minimum age nowhere to be found; with a sceptical eye on the serious child, he said, "I'm not sure you fully understand what you're trying to do, little missy."
Her pale eyes flashed in a way that might have made him flinch, but she only spoke, her voice steady with the forbearance of one with little patience speaking to an especially dim child, "I'm not sure you fully understand what I'm trying to do. You have a plaque in front of the white tiger cage. Upon it is written, 'It costs much to maintain the upkeep of such rare animals. Donate a hundred dollars and adopt a white tiger today!' I had taken note of it seven months ago, and it remains today. I have procured a total of one hundred dollars for the procedure. I wish to adopt a white tiger."
The clerk was not ready for Avala. He sighed, shrugged, and pushed over the papers. The money she emptied from the pouch, laid ceremoniously before him sheaf by sheaf, consisted of various notes - dutifully pressed - and a cascade of coins. The latter doused his face with the sourness one might expect from a zoo clerk made to do the work of a grocer, but he set to his task quickly enough, and, counting back and forth, shuffled the sum total into the coffers. The forms had long been signed by then, in a bold, printed hand, and she waited only long enough for him to pull the sheet back over the counter before she said, "And now, I wish to take my tiger home."
The line of his mouth was twisted half-up, half-down, as if he couldn't make up his mind whether to be smug, or afraid, "Ah, you see, miss. That's the problem..."
*******
And where were you, her dear Guardian, at this very hour? You were running. You would be screaming, if you had the luxury, but running had stolen all breath from you, so you were merely panting. You were at sea. You were starting to think it might have been a very bad idea to treat a supernatural being as a normal child. You had given her the present, and said "Surprise! You can spend it on anything you like!" And then you had left for the kitchen to bring out her cake. A birthday cake was not much good without the birthday girl. The house was empty, the road was empty: you had lost your Dust.
If only, you thought wildly, whipping your eyes from corner to corner as you dashed haphazardly across street after street, she were carrying a telephone. Then I could call her; but where would she plug it? You were starting to go slightly mad. You began to accost random passers-by - a prim governess, a jovial flower-seller, an idle sweeper. How lucky you were that your strange ward's striking appearance should make her so memorable that one out of every three strangers you asked could remember her passage. Using this unbeatably scientific method of ascertainment, slowly you unravelled her progress, eventually ending up in front of the...zoo? How strange that it should be the zoo - you had only brought her once, not long after her unexpected emergence from the mysterious bottle; it had been many months since. It was not the most exciting of places: stately enough, yes, for a park that housed the rarest of creatures - only a few, but certainly rare - but it was a drowsy little place, its exotic inhabitants lazing in cages, which, though roomy for what they were, were cages nonetheless. You had thought it was a fine idea then, finding it so hard to impress upon your regal charge that you had at least the barest of notions what to do with her (you hadn't), to bring her to see the beasts she so strangely resembled. If it was to be the zoo, then at least you knew where to find her; she had not been able to tear herself away.
And there you did find her, a lone, slim figure before the white tiger cage. You huffed, roiling with that toxic mix of sheer relief and rising anger; you stumbled towards your wayward charge with every intention to chide - her back was, as ever, ramrod straight, but even as you closed to striking distance, you could sense that something was different. The imperial air that was always thick around her had dimmed a tad...stiff as she stood, the smooth line of her frame felt almost forlorn; the harsh words fled. You found yourself wheezing, "What's wrong, sweetheart?"
"They have been duplicitous," her sombre voice had not changed, save that the ever-present hint of disapproval was currently as close to an outright complaint as you had ever heard it, "they did not use the word 'adopt' as it is commonly accepted to mean."
Blankly, you cast about for comment - till your errant glance caught sight of the sign before the cage. It costs much to maintain the upkeep of such rare animals. Donate a hundred dollars and adopt a white tiger today! Ah. Your heart sank. A part of you sought instantly to castigate yourself for letting such a misunderstanding come to pass, but you were not your preternatural charge. You had never before noticed that sign. And even if you had...the potential for this chain of events would never have crossed your mind. Even now enlightened, you could think of little helpful to say: of course she would have made such a mistake, of course she would have desired a white tiger, of course she would have been able to obtain a hundred dollars (fulfilling what to you would have seemed impossibility appeared to be her speciality) - have you already given them all your money, child? That last thought would have been particularly unhelpful spoken aloud, you decided...of course she already had; whatever it was you wondered if she'd done, she always already had.
"Oh honey," you settled for a vague defusing instead, "you know what people are like. What they say doesn't always sound like what they mean."
"I always say," she pointed out gravely, "exactly what I mean."
"And you're very special."
Her Majesty did not deign a reply to that, but you fancy she might have scowled at your irrationality.
You remained so in silence, the Guardian and the inscrutable Dust. You had run out of meaningless platitudes to dispense. The sting of your guilt, for somehow allowing this to happen on her special day, was just beginning to ebb in favour of wondering just how long you would have to root yourself here, staring awkwardly over that elegant, stone-still, shoulder at the drowsing beast behind the bars, when her sudden speech made you jump, a little, but enough of one to embarrass. (Though, if she had noticed your ungainliness, for once she gave no sign.)
"I would hate that," she said," to be locked in a cage. He hates it. I am sure of it."
You regarded the tiger dubiously. It yawned.
"It seems happy enough to me, honey."
"He hates it," she said, "all wild things hate a cage." She lifted a hurried hand in an uncharacteristically graceless motion to her face, and dropped it back to its former position just as quickly.
It dawned on you, with a sudden, candid, tightening in your chest, that she was crying. She never cried. She had faced down a demon (not, thankfully, to the death, the cavalry having arrived just in the nick of time) and she had not cried. You had thought her incapable of crying. She was crying now. In that poignant, tender moment, your foolish heart went out to the girl entire - she was, after all, in spite of her loftiness, her steel eyes and raking claws, just that: a girl - and you said things that even then you should have known you would soon come to dearly regret, "It's alright, sweetheart, one day you'll grow strong enough to free them all."
"I'm strong now," she replied - and if you hadn't been grinning daftly, the simpering sentimentality of an ersatz parent eroding your cognitive faculties, you might have recognised that dangerous thought in her words.
Instead you said, "Yes, you are - but you'll grow stronger yet and one day -"
But she was no longer listening. She had flowed - like a molten burst from an abruptly active volcano (and you, the unwary villager upon the silty foot) - into action, she was already far, high, gone from you, springing across the safety divide - and slipping right through those bars.
"Wait - what? NO! AVALA!" and your hapless mortal body, wholly unequipped, was leaping, reaching, desperately grasping for that quicksilver child, on the run again.
You had not been ready for Avala, that fateful day precisely a year before when she had spun, full-formed and impossible to tame, out of that enigmatic bottle you had found, inexplicably, alone and pristine sitting in a street corner on your way back from work - suffice to say, you would never be.
(Hi. My name is Jun and I like derp kid vignettes. ._. I preferred to keep her inner workings private and explore her character through the eyes of those around her, but I'm really sorry if that's not what you had in mind for the contest! She is such a beautiful and evocative creature - thank you so much for the opportunity! Also may I say that the 1900s setting is really really fun and I'm horribly sorry for the liberties I, uh, might have taken with its zoos… XD;; )
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Posted: Tue Aug 21, 2012 2:41 pm
NO UGLY DUCKLING HERE!
Dust Name: Wraith
Personality: Energetic, Resolute, Vigilant
Prompt: Both
Response:
"Wake up! Time for breakfast." The no nonsense tone from his guardian Edelweiss was always a cause for groans and whines. "Wraith. You know how I feel about your whining. Get up, breakfast is waiting." Kicking at his sheets he gave a miffed frown at Weiss as the man breezed out of his room. With a heavy sigh and a much needed stretch his body slowly began to awaken. Today was his favorite day! His birthday of course! Rushing to clean up and dress he hurried down the hall to find a perfect breakfast meal. Since he abhorred eggs (for obvious reasons) breakfast was usually rice porridge, fish, a side of salad (no meat) and juice or water. Today it was orange juice and because it was his birthday he could indulge in a bowl of blue berries. He loved those the most!
"Dig in and happy birthday." Weiss smiled his tight lipped smile that never quite turned into a full one. Wraith was used to it since he wasn't comfortable with the gesture. Returning a tight lipped smile of his own he watched (and ate) while Weiss pulled out a coin purse from his pocket. Setting it on the table he nodded for Wraith to take a look.
Wolfing down the last of his salad he quickly reached for the purse and opened it. A large sum of money was inside, more than he'd been allowed to have in a while. Arching a wary brow he looked up. "This is more than my usual allowance. You sure?"
"I know I might regret it, what with your track record for causing trouble but I think you've earned a little more freedom lately. You've been doing a good job of staying out of trouble lately." Something both of them were probably surprised about, no less. Weiss more than Wraith. "So go ahead. Indulge for today but remember this is part of your regular allowance too."
Wraith sucked his teeth. Ah! There's the catch. He smirked and snatched up the purse while downing his juice. "Fine but don't get mad if I use this money to buy my way out of trouble." No doubt he'd do just that before the day was out. "I'm heading out! Don't wait up." Something Weiss never did which was a wonder Wraith even said so in the first place.
Bounding down the hall he noted his brother's room was empty. That guy was never home. With a sigh he continued on down the hall, using the fire escape as his means of exit. He hated using the store front exit, too many people and sometimes he'd get caught up in helping old ladies find antique baubles to give to their ancient husbands. Such a pain!
Once outside he inhaled the cool air, shaking out his feathers as the wind played with him. "Yeah yeah. I'm going, I'm going." The swan muttered at the wind and followed it toward the open road. His usual schedule was spent searching high and low for interesting treasures that most people liked to toss out after a considerable amount of use. For Wraith, one man's junk was another man's treasure. Most of which he'd drop off with Weiss to inspect, clean and put on display if the items were of value. If not, Wraith had entertaining means of finding use for them. Today he'd go about his usual routine treasure hunt, moving around town with an easy grace. Asking shop keepers if he could rummage around in their trash or if they were willing to part with anything they found useless. At some point he ducked into a shop to buy a satchel so he could carry the smaller items.
It was about noon when he had collected all he could hold and was headed toward home to drop off his first load when he stumbled upon an interesting looking basket. Setting the lamp he carried on the ground nearby he inspected the interesting basket. It had a red cloth attached to it. "Hm?" Moving to pick it up he was suddenly assaulted by a mangy beast that wouldn't stop licking him. "A puppy?" He could only tell by how small the mutt was but it sure was dirty. With a sigh he lifted it from the basket to get a better look but should have probably thought better. He got a nice surprise in the form of dog piss on his shoes and pants leg. "Great, thanks for the gift." He mutter unceremoniously dropping the pup back into the basket. Lifting the basket and the lamp he had set aside he hurried back toward the market. Once he found the shop he was looking for he hurried inside. "Hey Marcus, you know anything about this mutt? It belong to anyone?"
The shop owner poked his head from around a counter to take a look, the basket was moving around and whimpering. Or rather what was inside. "Can't say I have. Can't see from over there." Wraith moved in closer. "It's awful dirty."
"You tellin' me... can I clean him up out back?"
"It'll cost ya?" Marcus informed.
With a sigh, Wraith pulled out his purse dropping a few coins on the counter. "This enough."
Marcus nodded. "That'll do."
"Hey watch my lamp while I clean'em." Hurrying out back he set the basket down and carefully removed the puppy. It whimpered a little kicking its tiny feet and wagging its tail. Wraith tried to keep it at a distance so as not to repeat the mutt's surprise attack again. "Alright buddy, no more pissing on me. I'm the birthday boy not you." And taking a look at the dog's sex noted that it was not a boy. "A girl huh?" That didn't help things but it was just a dog. Setting her into a pale he filled it with warm water, ignoring the shriek of surprise from the her. "Yeah yeah, water sucks. Bite me. You're filthy and no girl of mine is walking around like that." Hmm.? Somehow he had already staked a claim to the little critter but maybe if he couldn't find an owner, Weiss wouldn't appose to having her for himself. "Yeah right, and I can fly." Although he wasn't sure, he wondered about that. Oh well. One thing at a time.
With the pail filled and water sufficiently warm, he poured a little soap on the puppy. Scrubbing the soap into her coat he slowly began to notice she had taffy fur. "Nice." He liked light colors, soft and supple. Easy on the eyes and just all around appealing. White began to show in some places and Wraith just continued to enjoy the fat that she was so pretty. Once all the dirt was washed off he folded her into his chest moving into the store. "You have towels Marcus?" He asked looking around. A few minutes of waiting and a towel was shoved into his hand. "Thanks." Heading back outside he quickly dried her and set her down. The pup sat quietly watching as he cleaned out the basket next. Once done he returned to the shop to stand in front of the counter. "Um... you have anything for a little puppy to play with."
Marcus arched a brow as he came from behind the counter. "Seriously, kid? You're in a pet shop. Look around..." He shrugged and went back to doing whatever it was he was doing back there. Wraith rolled his eyes but moved around the shop, ignoring most of the pets that were in cages and others that seemed envious of the puppy in the basket.
"So I suppose you'll need some kibble, maybe a toy or two. I'd get you a collar but I can't keep you." He sighed at that idea. He already thought up many different ways the scenario would play out with Weiss back home. No! Seemed to be the continuous loop. Birthday or not that guy was just unreasonable as all levels of the underworld. As if sensing his worries the puppy barked leaning out of the basket curiously. "Yeah. I know but I can't help it. So what do you like anyway? Chew toys? Squeaky ones?" He moved around the shop plucking various things off the shelf and tossing them in the basket. The puppy would sniff at them then bark if she seemed to like it but toss other items out of the basket if she didn't. By the time he had gathered what he needed a small trail of toys and food were scattered on the floor.
"Sorry." Wraith said sheepishly going to pick them up while Marcus just bagged his items.
"What do you plan to do with her? You know Weiss isn't a straight guy for animals in his house." Marcus was sure that neat freak would flip if Wraith brought home a dog. He hated anything that had a potential for germs. It was almost like a phobia; an unnatural one.
"About that. Can you keep it a secret for now. I'm working on finding her a home."
"I could help. Keep her hear and you can take care of her until you do find one." Marcus offered.
"No!" Wraith sighed.. ."Sorry, no. I'll take care of her just don't tell Weiss if he happens by or anything."
"Will do."
Paying for his purchase, Wraith gather the puppy's basket and set the newly purchased items inside. "Thanks. See ya!" Hurrying out of the shop he rushed back toward home. Maybe if he was lucky he could sneak past Weiss. That would be wishful thinking of course. Rounding the corner to his shop he peeked in the window. No sign of Weiss but his brother was helping some folks. "Score! Distraction in progress." He hurried inside mindful of the bell hanging over the door. If he could just slip inside without setting it off.
"Is there a reason you're skulking around the shop?" The all too familiar no nonsense voice hit him like a brick. Jumping Wraith turned abruptly keeping the basket out of Weiss' sight. All the good that would do but maybe the puppy wouldn't wiggle around. "Well? You going to stand there all day? Go inside I know you've been treasure hunting today."
Couldn't keep anything from this man. Too damn observant! "Y-yeah I did." But I got side tracked by a friggin' basket with a puppy inside. Stepping inside he went toward the back dropping his wares. "I got a lamp, a few strange objects, I think this is a music box." He wasn't sure but it looked useful. "And whatever else is in my satchel." Not sticking around he quickly gathered the basket and headed for the stairs to their home above.
"You not going to show me what's in the basket?"
"Ah it's nothing just something I bought with my birthday money." That got an arched brow. Crap! "Really it's nothing." And the puppy chose that moment to yip loudly trying to move the cloth that kept her hidden out the way.
"Really? That didn't sound like nothing." Weiss drawled.
"Really it's nothing!" Wraith was losing options. He didn't know what else to do or say. "I j-just... found it. I was going to look for an owner but I didn't want to leave him with Marcus! Honest! I was going to get rid of it." He was about to panic when hands came from behind to lift him into a hug.
"Ah you found the basket! Weiss he found it!"
"I can see that."
"Huh?" Wraith went still in his brother's arms. "Found it?"
Weiss just sighed while plucking at some invisible lint on his suit. "I sent Cadaver to get your present but he got side tracked and misplaced it. That basket apparently."
"Huh?" Somehow Wraith was losing all coherent speech.
"The puppy was yours to begin with. I was suppose to bring it back before you got home but .... sorry." He squeezed Wraith a little tighter then let him down. "After I lost track of time I went back to the road to gather the basket but it was gone by then. I came straight back to tell Weiss he must have gone looking for it.
"Indeed. I talked to Marcus first he hadn't seen you so I told him to be on the look out for a basket with a puppy in it." He plucked at more imaginary lint.
"But he said he didn't know anything when I went inside."
"I told him not to divulge that information. I was hoping he'd be able to coax you into handing over the pup then I could properly present it to you." Weiss confessed. "You far to headstrong in your plans it would seem."
"It would seem." Sucking his teeth he gave Weiss a pointed look. "What about your .... phobia?"
"It's hardly a phobia. I call it a health concern." Weiss turned fixing the cuff of his suit. Probably so he wouldn't have to show an embarrassed face. "At any rate a little birdie told me it was a bit hypocritical to have a teen that was the epitome of my health concerns and the fact that you're still a kid you're always tracking dirt and germs in and out of the house." He seemed to be pouting, really pouting! "So I guess it's not fair to keep you from having a decent childhood just cause I have some health concerns." He coughed.
Wraith didn't even bother asking Weiss anymore he looked behind him to his brother. "I can...?" He nodded. "Seriously... really really seriously!?"
"She's yours."
The sound of shouting and a few barks from the puppy were all the thanks required to see that Wraith was quite happy. He gathered the puppy in his arms spinning her around. "I can keep you!" She barked. "Oh... a name. Toffie!" Another bark in approval.
"But... you'll have to take care of her. I hope you didn't spend all your money on junk."
That's when Wraith smiled. "I was so busy trying to get her things I didn't even think twice about something for myself. I'm all out of money." He shrugged.
"I suppose everything is worked out then?"
Wraith smiled and rushed Weiss with a quick hug before gathering Toffie and her things and rushing upstairs with a 'whoop' taking them two at a time. "Best birthday...EVER!"
"Kids, so easily appeased." Weiss muttered as he returned to his usual routine.
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Posted: Tue Aug 21, 2012 8:22 pm
EYE OF THE (WHITE) TIGERDust Name: Tarah
Personality: Headstrong. Passionate. Curious
Prompt: 2
Response:
Hearts burning, lives molding; and in only a short time, it was like the worl—
"Hey, I'm going into town," the voice cut through Vena's internal monologue. She startled so violently that her elbow knocked the ink, sending it flooring all over her papers. She cursed miserably under her breath and jumped up to clean what she could, but her work was undoubtedly ruined.
"What was that, dear?" Vena asked as she glanced up after a small moment of mourning. Tarah stood tall and proud in the doorway, appearing every bit in control of the world. It was this total lack of concern for danger that always worried the Guardian. Tigress or no, the girl wasn't indestructible.
"I'm going to town," Tarah stated once again and Vena looked out of the bay window automatically. Engrossed in her work, the sun was just beginning to touch the tops of the trees surrounding the cottage. Darkness would be along in the next two or three hours at most. There would be no way for the young tigress to make it back before sundown.
"I don't know, Tarah ," she started slowly, turning her head just in time to catch the narrowing of her icy blue eyes. She had to swallow a sigh at the micro expression. The girl was going to be difficult today. Deliberately, Vena went back to cleaning up the spilled ink. "I don't suppose it could wait until tomorrow?"
She did not have to watch the tigress to know the girl's lips had thinned considerably at the comment. And in her mind's eye, Vena saw the girl licked them slowly afterwards. It was a habit of aggravation and one Vena had become familiar with in the passing years.
"No."
The sharp, curt reply was proof enough that this conversation was not going to end on a positive note. For a moment, Vena longed for the child she had raised. Tarah was still the same child, of course; but like all teenagers, she had her beliefs and Vena had her own. It was only natural for them to clash at times. And at those times, it would only do to compromise or be firm.
"It'll be dark soon," she began and the tigress snorted rudely. "I would feel better if someone could go with you. With the kidnap—"
****
Tarah was still bristling over the argument. I'm not a child, she thought furiously, kicking a stone off the path. She was a tigress, not some helpless little girl. I can take whatever comes my way. And to prove it, she had left anyway and would probably be back before Vena even noticed she had gone. Tarah had nothing to fear from the night. Or the forest for that matter. No one would be stupid enough to mess with her.
And now, she saw another opportunity to test the theory. Up ahead, there was a fork in the road. She knew one lane led straight into town, a safe route if she ever saw one. The other route, however, was unmarked and no larger than a natural game trail. It was partially overgrown and clearly exactly what she needed. Vena had always warned her about going into the forest at dusk. Now it was time to show the Guardian that she was the Hunter, not the Hunted.
She turned down the path, already feeling triumphant. She knew what the results were going to be and it became even clear after the first few minutes. All the beasts of the forest heard her approaching and fled in a matter of seconds. She had to laugh at Vena's misplaced worry. Then, just as the thought crossed her mind, the forest grew dark. The sun had dipped enough that its light could no longer penetrate through the thick, crisscrossing branches.
An eerie silence seemed to settle over the world and it slowly sunk into her bones like a poison. Her courage wavered as the hairs on the back of her neck raised. She glanced behind her in a moment of paranoia before she quickly chided herself.
Shuffle...crack...
Tarah stiffened at the sounds through the brush. All the animals had fled. What else could be out there? She tested the air, only to scent nothing, and glanced behind her in a moment of paranoia. She growled impatiently at herself. "Starting to act like Vena, Tarah," she chided out loud, her nerves settling at the sound. The noises could only be the wind knocking a branch, or nut, loose.
It was then she noticed something up on the path. It was in a batch of fading sunlight; and as she got closer, she realized it was a basket of all things. It looked like what Vena would use for gathering herbs in the mornings. Yet, it appeared to be fairly new; and on closer inspection, the blue blanket on top was well-worn in comparison. She wondered if someone could have possibly dropped it. The path was definitely not well traveled and the thoughts seemed unlikely for someone to not notice they were missing a basket...
Tarah glanced around and tested the air once more. No one... she shrugged before she finally reached for the basket.
And the next second, a man burst from the bushes downwind and tackled her around the middle. She hit the ground in a flurry of leaves and branches, thrashing against the man and full ready to tear him apart. The struggle lasted a few moments before the frightened tigress managed to get her feet up against his chest and shoved back with all of her might. The man toppled backwards like a sack of potatoes and Tarah scrambled to her feet. She blinked away blood from the scratch the man had delivered to her face, turning to run back home and apologize to Vena.
"No, please!" the man cried, crawling towards her on his hands and knees. His voice was choked as frightening sobs racked his body. "Please, give him back... Please..." he broke down, words failing him.
The tigress paused at the raw emotion in his tone, no longer sensing danger. And now that she was able to get a better look at him, he was simply an old man—if his thinning, snow white hair was any indication. It was surprising. She had originally thought him to be a large, destructive force that had full intention to harm her. She wanted to laugh at her own worry if only her throat wasn't still dry from the fear.
"Give who back?" she asked softly. "I don't understand."
"You know," the man gasped between his tears. "My son, my son... yo-you took him from me!" Tarah was taken aback by the accusation. She had never stolen anything from anyone, let alone from this man and definitely not a boy. Was this why he attacked her? "I've done everything you asked, everything! I have your money right in that basket, just give him back to me..."
Tarah glanced at the basket, her thoughts inching into place. Disbelief filled her at first before she had no choice but to take the glimpse into the basket. And when it was confirmed, a slow, hot feeling began to flow through her veins. She heard a snap and a creak and realized she was grinding her teeth hard enough to crack the enamel.
"Go home," she ordered abruptly, not turning around as she tried to control the anger she felt.
"Wha... what?" the man blubbered pathetically.
"Go home. You brought the money. I'll bring your son home tonight," she said and the man began to cry his thanks and she shooed him away harshly. "Go or I'll change my mind."
The man shuffled off quickly at the threat, though he continued to mutter his thanks. She stood over the basket a moment longer, simmering in rage. She was more than certain what she had to do. There was no way she could just leave a boy and the old man to suffer from this kind of torment. It no longer had anything to do with Vena and that stupid argument. There was something far larger involved in this and she was not about to back down.
****
"The men were apprehended by dusk and the boy was found in perfect health if not fairly disoriented from the traumatizing event. The father, Thomas Kent, rejoiced to be able to hold Clay once again. While the kidnappers appeared to have been attacked by something, or someone, Clay was apparently sworn to secrecy. He would only tell us that he would like to say 'thank you' to this mysterious savior, whether they be beast or human... And in other news—"
Tarah was curled on the couch for the first time since she had grown. The radio continued to go on about other things that had happened in Amies today but she drowned it out. She was much more content to fall asleep with her head on her Guardian's lap, happy to be home, despite the wounds that littered her body.
Sweet, yet satisfying.
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Posted: Tue Aug 21, 2012 8:28 pm
EYE OF THE (WHITE) TIGER
Dust Name: Aja
Personality: Strong, Passionate, Proud
Prompt: 2
Response: {side note: please excuse me for letting her have a tail and ears of a tiger if she doesn't actually have them in her growing stages. Or if I've given her traits that she doesn't actually have in her two-legged form.}
Orbs of glass, sharp and piercing like stainless steel... dotted with a single black ink point in the center.. power evident and clear. They didn't move from the intently locked state they were in, focused, and unyielding. Something had claimed their attention... demanded it...
What was it that had drawn the lioness to town earlier than the usual? Most days she'd be gone til the sun was just descending over the large forests framing Amies never ending horizon. The sky would be spilled with dye's of beautiful pastels, and saturated highlights; oranges, pinks, lavender's, and fading soft blues. The way the fading light graced the land with a veil of an etheral glow, a kiss goodnight before it's time was over. And even that small sliver of light that remained would take it's sweet time, until the cloak of darkness laid over like a blanket embracing a tired soul. That was when Aja thrived... it was her element, her home, and her peace. She was strongest then, so she felt. The moon's reflective grin graced with freckles of stars , the occasional dark clouds that breezed past oh so leisurely in the stillness. Nocturnal creatures that joined in the the clockwork ritual, giving warning or song of their presence, and slinking along the shroud of unburdened shadows. The air was considerably more fresh, the sweltering of heat no longer marring the land and amplifying pungent aroma's that may dominate one's senses; deter them, and many times repulse. No in the night... it was like a crisp sheet of parchment being turned in a new book, so smooth, and pleasant under one's finger tips. Sometimes on days when she had to return home early, she'd often sneak out when her guardian was asleep... but usually, such things weren't necessary. She had a lenient caretaker. One who understood her maturity, and natural desire to explore the twilight.
But the evening was just encroaching, still young and premature. The bustling of town off in the distance just faintly thrumming with the usual monotonous tones of clashing sound waves crept into hypersensitive cupped white and black striped fur ears. The sensor's were swiveled forward to high alert, unmoving, along with the crystal's lodged in sockets further down on a warm tan face. Powdery white, like a dove's plumage, framed the circular face, accenting the beautiful caramel skin. Black stripes were strewn around those trained eyes, an elongated tail rigidly stiff behind her body. How long had she stood there on the beaten road that eventually lead to the city for which she lived in? No one else was around her.... no one, but this basket...
Was that even to be considered a someone? At current, yes... for it wreaked with a stench she knew well, that ignited the fire of instinct within her firey soul. It caused her stomach to grip and saliva to increase production within her mouth. Just that single breeze that brought said basket more attention than a mere glance for which it would have earned... had caused a great rift in Aja's momentum. The thing was battered badly... and a good few yards off... but it's shape was distinct and noticeable with the tall lush green grass engulfing it. The wicker was tarnished and worn, torn in some area's, and stained in others. The handle was snapped in the middle, and a dirty blue cover was stuffed inside. It was that blanket, a pathetic excuse for one, that had given away what any predator would have relished. A delicious snack was inside... one with a beating heart, and coursing blood. Flesh.... meat... Being a carnivore, well... omnivore with a preference for what laid below tender skin, such an aroma, a perfume was enticing. It was a smell she was well used to, and could pinpoint anywhere; of the avian species.
Now typically Aja stuck with tougher meat, something she could really chew on, but she'd been exploring in the vast, and mysterious Whi Forest. A hunger had started gurgling and settling in her gut...
Tales of dangerous creatures that inhabited the ecosystem didn't phase the girl. In fact, she enjoyed the challenge, the daring, the incalculable outcomes. There was a thrill that would shiver down her spine, and rush through busy veins. Adrenaline fueled her pride and courage, making fear unable to even pierce through that adamant state of mind. She was the queen of the forest... Come beast of any kind, and she would take her stand. Perhaps it was foolish, one so young acting so self-assured and confident, but the icy heat that would prickle through her body awoke something that could not yield or back to any sort of confrontation. There were numerous times such a headstrong personality got her in trouble, but it was never chipped or weakened... if anything it grew. So many times had her guardian warned her to stay out of such places, to not go here to not go there, but Aja was a stubborn lioness, and hadn't any restrictions when her capabilities were threatened.
Standing here, however, a battle within herself was swelling. Internally, she was churning idea's and decisions in her mind, body stiff, while her brain collected itself. Her boa laced along slender shoulders fluttered softly, brushing silky skin with a soft tickle. A fight between instinct, and morality... eventually, she began to move forward, legs a bit rigid as she advanced, posture still a bit tensed. The grand woods behind her that she'd left hadn't ever caused such uncertainty within her, but... this had. Standing in the grass now, off of the dirt road, she stared down at the basket, gaze still in a petrified mode, finger tips twitching slightly from the restraint she held in. There was a slight shifting under the beaten cloth, making round ears p***k subtly, and eyes widen just a bit more. It was alive... Tail giving a jerking at the tip, side to side, Aja made slow work of lowering down, knee's bending with great caution, and hands outstretching in a delayed reaction. Finger tips gripped a piece of the blanket on opposing ends, twitching tail now hovering just above the blades of grass that swayed in a wanton manner, opposing the girls nervous stature. An urge to lick drying lips was denied, as strong hands began to pull back the sheet, and unveil what was hidden within the belly of the basket.
As soon as the form was identified, bent arms froze in place, attentive gaze unwavering to the small figure crumpled up, sound was given by the creature. It instantly snapped Aja into an even more sensitive and intense disposition, ears lifting as high as possible, eyes fluttering once to open like saucers. Inside, nestled in the folds of the dingy blanket was a tiny, baby bird. It's feathers were beautiful, a mixture of vibrant colour, earth tones, tipped with white and streaked with gossamer lines. The sight was breath taking, really, for something so young. Its chest was speckled with white, still gaining some of it's brazen ruby colour there, and a few longer feathers were bent back down the back of it's neck, sprouting from the tip of the delicate round head. A short beak was adorned on the baby's face, golden like an amulet, a slit just above for tightly concealed eyes. That golden beak would peep open just barely to let out a desperate, and weak cry, wind dipping in to ruffle the tiny feathers. The baby was clearly in poor health... the cause... by the sounds of it, hunger. But Aja wasn't a doctor. She knew a few basic's from her guardian, what to look for, how to help, but the plea that the young bird gave was one so needy like any helpless youngling would give in order to gain the strength that was depleting it.
That sound... it was so musical, and sweet to the ear. With each small cry that was given, Aja started to relax more and more, drawn in by the meaning of it's presence. It had to be hungry... she was certain of it. After all, she too gave a similar groan or growl when the need to feed became insistent. Hesitantly, a small hand untucked to dive into the basket, a single finger unfurling to let the back of it graze the baby's soft plumage. It was a bit cold... not chilled thankfully, but... baby's had to be kept warm. That was a fact she was very aware of. Able to yank her fierce eyes from the begging infant, Aja let her glowers scan the perimeter again, trying to search for a source, a reason, someone. Who had brought this baby all the way out here? It had to be a human... such beautiful creature's were often kept as pets by those who had a pretty penny in their pocket. But like before, there wasn't a soul in sight, besides those who were in the town ahead. Her ears strained to try and get anything else, but to no avail. What was she supposed to do..?
Looking back down at the little one, she noticed it shivering, making her frown in mild distress. Well... keeping it warm would be good, to start with... Almost as if on automatic, she fixed the cloth to tuck it around the baby firmly, so there wouldn't be any rolling about. Next was her fluffy boa, stripped off her shoulders and tucked around the interior of the basket so as to further contain heat from escaping. While her hands and body were busy working, it helped to get her mind into a progressive state as well. Hunger... food. Her stomach helped to remind her of that.... What did birds eat.... berries, nuts... some ate meat, but by the looks of this little one, it didn't hold the appropriate equipment for such a meal. Ah, but worms! Surely those would work! Perking up, there was no time wasted. Hopping onto her feet again, Aja gave a 'stay put' motion with her hands to the basket, as if it could just wander off on its own, before dashing off into the vast sea of grass encompassing her.
Worms often came out during a storm, and would reek in the air with their very well-known cologne. It made her nose wrinkle up just at the thought! But birds also gained worms on their own, in a rather miraculous way. It was as if they knew just where they were located below the top soil! Frowning again, her waist bent so as to get lower to the ground, creeping along the edge of the dusty road, and the sudden shoots of grass. Bugs leaped out of her way like miniature waves of water splashing about, making sure not to get stepped on. Paying them no mind, Aja was dead set on her mission. Eventually, she just stopped, right by the edge of the road where it held a ditch, and contained a bit of moisture. Surely this was a good place to start! Crouching down again, her hands shot out to dig eagerly at the moist earth, tearing at it without mercy, scooping large piles in her palms. They were each skimmed and surveyed to see if any wriggly bits were visible, before being cast aside to go for more. Eventually there was success! After making a decently sized hole, and caking soil all over her hands and under her finger nails, Aja managed to wrangle up three worms of varying sizes. Holding them all in a single hand, she stared intently at them, as if verifying their worth. These would have to do... for now. The lioness was growing a bit anxious keeping the baby unfed for so long.
With her catch in tow, Aja proudly sprinted back to the basket, and knelt back down to gently uncover the bird, tail swaying behind her in a more leisurely gesture. She was growing more comfortable now that she had a set goal and task at hand. Now... how to feed these worms to the baby... Staring at that brilliant beak, her dirty hand that wasn't holding the precious sources of nourishment dipped back down again and very softly touched the hard exterior. Instantly, the bird twittered a little more, and shakily lifted the weak neck, causing Aja to flick her tail in contained delight. It'd acknowledged her! Giving another tap, as the bird began opening its mouth wide, she maneuvered a worm into the rip of a thumb and forefinger, dangling it above the agape orange mouth, and dropped it in. It was gone, just like that... but the bird didn't even seem sated by that first one... so the second was added, and then the third... but still no reaction asides a bob of the head to swallow the wormies. She needed more. Ears pinning back into her hair, Aja's pale brows knitted closer together. She needed some help...
As the baby bird began to lower its head as there were no longer worms being produced, a striped ear atop of Aja's head pricked up as the sound of hooves reached her. Snapping her head to the side, the lioness spotted a troupe of humans heading for town from a path just down the way. And they didn't look the friendly type.... narrowing her gaze sharply, hands worked nimbly to once again cover up the little one, and her arms lowered to cradle the basket to her chest. Hiking up onto her feet again, she high-tailed it for town as well, her speed giving an advantage to get a head start from the riders. Sometimes humans riding into town could be bad news... and she had no time to deal with their shenanigans. Her guardian would be busy at work, thus out of the question for looking to for assistance, but... there had to be someone she could go to....
Entering town she was greeted by the clopping of hooves on hard cobblestone, shutting and opening of doors accompanied with bells that tinkered when bumped in the process. Idle chatter of various groupings, and clicking of shoes all in obscure rhythm. Bright eyes darted around her, from buildings to signs, to faces and carriages. She searched for some means of familiarity, anyone who might have birds of their own. Everyone seemed to be retiring for the evening though, heading home, or closing up shops. Sidewalks were swept, and pubs were filled. She'd just about started to feel irritated when a voice called out, drawing her attention without a hitch. It was a man's, one that was raspy, but held a rather cheery, if not inviting tone. That bewitching stare turned right to him, finding a very worn, stubbly, and unappealing face. Dark black hair was messily strewn about him, long to the shoulders, strands out of line, not uniform in any fashion. His clothing was worse for the ware, mostly of tougher materials, and strong durable leather bracers on either thick forearm. He was a stout man, but meaty, wearing a grin that was missing a few key teeth... He sat before an alleyway, between two shops, on an old crate, jaw smacking with tobacco being shifted along his lower lip and either cheek. A rough, dirty, large hand lifted to wave the girl over, his head lifting a little as if to get a peek into the basket she held so protectively,
"What've ya got there, girly? eh?" he crooned... to his best ability, which resembled the rumblings of a sly dog.
There was distrust resonating from Aja. It was apparent in her puffed up demeanor, and firm glare, to the agitated snapping of her tail behind her. But the man gave a hardy chuckle, waving again with more gusto,
"C'mon now! ya lookin' lost there! lemme help ya! old coot like me ain't gon'do nothin', now, eh?" he assured with rugged 'charm', a corner of his lips craning upwards further to put on his best convincing smile.
She was weary... that was a fact. But with a quick glance around, the streets were starting to fall into a common routine of retreating. He was her best bet for now... besides, she was tough. She'd be able to handle what ever tricks he had up his sleeve. Slowly, she turned towards him, and began her approach. He relaxed more, leaning back, and cracking his neck in the process, giving a groan as his joints were relieved of some tension.
"Now, then... what'sit ya got there, sweets?" he asked again, sitting up a little straighter to try and gain a peek. But she was standing a reasonable distance still, gauging him, and testing him. Making it clear with body language that she was the one in control here, Aja stepped forward close enough to show him the basket. Blinking the man smirked, "Somethin' for grandma, hm?" he jested with another guttural chuckle. It earned no smiles or amusement for Aja though. A hand uncurled around the basket to pull back her boa and the blanket, to show the top of the baby bird to the stranger.
"Ahhhhhhh~" came a surprised inhale of exclamation from the weathered man, "Welll, well, well now... where did ya come across somethin' like this, little'un, hm?" he asked, words dripping slower now, more prolonged.
She said nothing, though. And his smile grew.. before reverting to one of a more sophisticated appearance, which didn't fit his baggy face at all. "You know... these are rare 'round here... don't seen none of 'um 'cept by the most daring of men.." he continued, shifting a little, lifting a hand to gently tip the basket towards his favor just a touch... as if wanting to peek in more. "Lil thing don't look too good, neither.." he tsked, head shaking, "Might be best I take him, eh sweets? Give 'um a better life, eh? Lil one like ya can't do much for 'um. Or he'll die...~" there was a venom in his tone now. His texture like a knife digging into the bark of a tree... it made the fur along the spine of Aja's tail raise, nose wrinkle once again, and a lip quiver just for a brief moment in the beginnings of a snarl.
"No." she stated without there any room for opposition. This man was wasting her time, clearly. As she began to back away though, he gripped tighter to the basket, digging into the decaying wicker. A feral expression contorted on his face now, honey brown eyes darkening with warning, and retaliation,
"Best ta just hand it over... girl..." he now began to growl in a very evident warning, other hand jutting up to take hold of the other side of the basket too. Instantly, Aja's pupils shrunk to pin points, her lips pulling back to snarl viciously at the man as he began to yank the basket away. Defense kicked in, a trigger within switching on, and the lioness pulled back... met with an iron grip. The man was strong... stronger than he looked. Growling in her throat, eyes wide and inflamed with fury, she gave a loud roar in protest...
"NO!!!"
A single hand lifting to shoot into the basket and scoop up the mass of boa and blanket. Yanking the baby out of the basket, she lifted a leg to kick into the mans stomach, causing him to grunt deeply and topple back from the force of his own strength.
Aja booked it out of there. She raced down the streets, dodging and weaving, evading bodies and carts, and the like with ease. There were some shouts of anger from the girls blind dashing, managing to cause a few folks to stop in their tracks and lose balance so as to avoid collision! But she didn't care. She didn't look back. Her legs carried her down, down, down the busy street, and closer to quiet, more calm grounds... where the shadows were starting to take to their places, and come out to begin their own lifecycle.
She turned a few corners, making sure she couldn't be followed or found, ducking into a street that had mostly shops that were closed already, and tucked into a short alley. Pressing her back to the wall, she slid down it til she was on her bum, panting heavily, chest rising and falling in a labored manner. Resting her head against the brick behind her, Aja just took the moment to catch her breath, eyes closed, feeling the cool coating of shade envelope her small shape. Finally, her hands began to stir, and she started to part back the boa. She didn't need anyone... she'd take care of the baby herself... She'd find more worms, and let it sleep next to her bed. Pulling back the blanket, her eyes scanned along the precious baby, relief sweeping through her. Her hand rose to oh-so tenderly caress those gorgeous feathers, following along their grain, smoothing them to fall in line with one another. It was so calming... and soothed her own feral mind. A softness crossed over her face gazing at her innocent companion. How old was it? Where was it's parents? where did it come from...? but it was in her pondering that... something clutched her heart. And it stopped... for a moment...
The bird wasn't moving... it's chest wasn't rising and falling. It wasn't breathing. Her eyes grew large again, and her hand began frantically stroking the baby, turning it onto its side, to stare at its chest. Still no movement. Her heart sank into her stomach, a sickening, nauseous sensation traveling up her wind pipe. No... No. It couldn't-- there was no way-- panic set in, and she continued to try waking the bird, speaking to it softly, petting its beak, chest... but it was fruitless. The bird had passed... She was speechless, mind blank, a numbness vibrating through her body. Stinging nipped at the backs of her eyes, forcing out tears at the corners, rolling down supple plush cheeks, collecting at her chin. Without a sound, the baby was drawn close, and hugged against a warm chest, shielded from the world, and the town tottering to sleep.
She didn't know how long she'd been sitting there just coddling the bird to her, but after awhile her mind had cleared. Still holding the bundle secure to her chest, Aja walked outside the opposite side of town, back into the field that was adjacent from the one she'd found the avian in. The way she headed was towards Deith Forest. It was a forbidden area, but... a place she also knew often held beautiful birds like the one she held to her heart. It deserved to be returned home.. or at least somewhere like it. Her tail hung low, and ears were folded back... but her head was high, and shoulders level. A sheen was on her cheeks from the silent crying, in tribute and honor of the life that had once been. It hadn't even gotten to stand a chance...
A few more horses with carriages rode past, but she paid no heed to them, not even sparing a passing glance, or moving out of their way. It gained her a few questionable stares, but... she could care less right now.
Reaching the edge of the already dark forest, Aja allowed herself to go past three rows of tree's, to where she was far enough in to just see a little out to the town. There was lush vegitation everywhere, and soft soil beneath her feet. Finding a flowering shrub that was just as colourful and unique as the bird, she knelt before it, and placed her fallen comrade to her side, proceeding then to begin digging at the dirt once more. She set into a trance, digging, pulling away, and dumping, to create a hole large enough for the burial. With great care and affection, the bird was hoisted up, wrapped up snug in the blanket, and placed into it's fresh grave. Stroking the old blanket once more, leaving behind streaks of dirt, Aja bid an unspoken farewell before piling the soil back on. It was patted taught, and smoothed into an even surface as if it'd never been made... but that's not how she wanted it to be. She wanted the bird to be remembered, even if it was only by her... Looking around, she spotted a few rocks littering the grounds, which encouraged her to get up, and collect an arm full. Returning to the grave, she went on to place the stones around in a circle just above the resting body. A second row was made on the outside, and a single more shiny stone was placed in the center. Looking upon her work, she gave a small nod, and closed her eyes... to give a prayer to the life no longer present.
Standing up slowly, Aja only allowed herself a single glance down at the grave, before a whisper, a rumbling underlying, had her looking deeper into the forest. There was a shush, of wind swooping through, and things went silent again. She stood for just a second more, showing her unfazed demeanor, before turning and heading back out... to go home... until the next day. Tonight she'd leave the night to itself, and instead let it's comforting embrace soothe her stirred soul.
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