Shadow Self - IC [Closed] | Roleplay

[center] [url=https://fontmeme.com/calligraphy-fonts/][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/200512/1f50b5ece1866460a4800de950cf6dad.png[/img][/url][/center] ----- [center][size=2][font=copperplate gothic][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/forums/rp/2859028]OOC[/url]|[url=https://www1.flightrising.com/forums/rp/2846102]Sign-ups[/url]|IC[/font][/size][/center] ----- @DeathDino @BlackberryDown @abyssals @DancingSkye @Relics @smerdyakov She drifted in the void. A glowing turquoise orb, her radiance extended barely a centimeter out before the darkness devoured it. How long she’d traveled for she could not recall, but it’d been this way for some time, pursuing a distant pinprick of light which stayed almost eternally out of reach. Why? No discernible reason, only a strong compulsion and an unheard promise upon her arrival driving her. With such lack of clear motivation, perhaps it would’ve been better for her to stop, but there’d be little point in doing so. What else was there? Nothing. Only she, the light, and the emptiness in which it seemingly was contained. If not halt her journey, why not return to the place of her departure? It’d been a consideration, one that had been quashed moments after she’d begun. Stuck in such a spherical state, her awareness covered a wider degree than eyes and ears previously could. Therefore, when she appeared, unbreathing and nerveless but still capable of thought, no glance was required to determine there was nowhere to go to. Nowhere, of course, but the light. In that instant, she determined her path, one to that single source of illumination. Heaven may have been a memory to her muddled with feelings both good and bad, but here it was the only thread for her to cling to. Even accompanied by lingering hope, a disembodied mind could still tire and ultimately suffer from the loneliness of the situation. She’d reached that point. Deprived of any new input, she often imagined her own; loved ones reached out to her from the dark with smiling faces, unaware of their sole existence within her waking dreams. They whispered words of encouragement, bolstering her efforts. But when all those words had been heard a few too many times, the apparitions’ support flipped. Fueled by crueler memories, their comments grew snide and critical. Her drifting became impossibly slower during these lapses, overwhelmed by hurt of her own creation. Still she pressed onward. It was in the throes of this sort of agony that she saw a new light in the void, a rival to the original in its brightness. Shining a blue hue similar to her soul’s own, it tugged at her with eager but gentle insistence. Maybe it was due to its kindred appearance, but the sight comforted and captivated her. For the first time, she merely hovered in place. A fork in the road had emerged and uncertainty followed swiftly after. Space was so unnatural here that decisions could not be settled by the simple matter of which light possessed the closer distance. She knew as much; the light she had been chasing never wavered in keeping itself far away. Who’s to say this friendly beacon would be any different. She could scarcely dare to presume so. Apparently, the new light’s eagerness applied to more than its strange hold upon her. Unwilling to leave such a momentous decision to a soul floating in the dark, its intensity doubled to her observation. Then the brightness tripled, quadrupled, and so forth until the first light was all but hidden from view. The beacon had evolved into a blue sun. However, the sun certainly did not possess the appendages this did. Barely visible except for the occasional silvery glint, they fanned out from its center to form an elaborate halo. They squirmed in place, then began to slither forward. The closing distance between her and them lent further detail to the tendrils; they were rootlike with many branching sections. While intimidated by the display, she found herself transfixed as well. They encountered little resistance as they settled upon her form. [i]Lying on the cobblestone. The carriage overturned. Jolting pains up her legs. Nearby screams. As she turns her head, a shoed hoof descends.[/i] Fear spiked at their touch but was washed away by a wave of calm. [i]Chastising words from a stern-faced woman, her hair iron gray and her frown creased with wrinkles.[/i] Her, the orb’s, glow began to fragment. Blue coloration bunched up until it was many bubbles on a pure white surface. [i]Giggling amongst the girls about prospective suitors. She catches someone in the corner of her eye and cannot repress her smile.[/i] The bubbles glided along the orb, drawn to where the tendrils laid, and were promptly absorbed. [i]A dance. A stolen kiss between dear friends.[/i] This last image stuck longer than the rest, but it eventually disappeared too like smoke on the wind. The tendrils briefly glimmered with her stolen radiance before fading to their original unremarkability. She was spotless, placid. They took advantage of her pacification, stretching and squeezing. The orb no longer could be considered so, now sharing more in common with a lump of molten glass. They tore bits off to shape new limbs, eyes, a head, and the like, then reattached them to the mass. It was fortunate she was unfeeling, else their callous mutilation of her body might have elicited great pain. With light strokes, finer details were added. After these, they withdrew, almost as if to admire their handiwork. The light pulsed, its brightness increasing further until it finally engulfed its creation entirely. [center]~~~~~[/center] Warmth. That was the first sensation she encountered. Light. When she tilted her head up to the source and opened her eyes, this was the next. A familiar ball hung high against a cloudless blue sky. The word flew to her mind as easily as she breathed: sun. Touch. Blades of what she knew to be grass brushed under her tucked legs. Sound followed. A dizzying clamor of voices hit her, so many that she struggled to parse each statement that met her ears. She tried standing to meet the chaos but failed. Her legs buckled beneath and would have sent her plummeting back to the ground if not for the sudden supportive presence at her side holding her steady. “Easy there.” A sonorous voice boomed from a height far above her. “Keep your eyes on your legs until they feel solid.” Unable to see reason to deny the help, she obeyed. Casting her gaze downward, a sense of discomfort prickled at her. Why, she could not understand. Four legs. Hooves. From what she saw, her partner possessed the same, although theirs were not cloven or nearly as dainty. Nevertheless, she continued to stare, silently willing her legs not to quiver. Time flowed slowly, but eventually her pleas took hold. Confidence surged through her at the meager accomplishment. “Thank you.” Legs firmly in place, she now bothered to take notice of the surrounding commotion. Fur, scales, feathers—all these populated the bustling crowd. What or who they gathered near she could not tell, though there did appear to be an epicenter to this rather disorganized mess. Her partner snorted. It did not seem to be a derisive noise but an instinctual one with no particular meaning. “Do you want a closer look?” She finally glanced up to see who she was beside and nearly recoiled. A horse, his flank jet-black but his face painted white. While part of her wanted to bolt away, she stayed put. They seemed decent enough. It had to be a simple case of nerves, that’s all. “Yes, if you do not mind.” His only response to her request was to nod and leave with a casual flick of his tail. Having mastered standing but not so much walking, she stumbled after him. [center]~~~~~[/center] As this newfound child of Home waded into the worst of the crowd, another individual stayed far at its edge. His name was never Dan or Danny. Just Daniel. Being the only thing he knew for sure, he preferred if others did not twist it to their whims. Speaking of knowledge, the opossum had been driven to this clearing for that very purpose. Even though Home was vast, word traveled far among those who kept their hearing tuned in to odd goings-on. He considered learning of such things to be a suitable way to fend off the feelings of entrapment that settled upon him often. They were indications that there was more to the world than forests, mountains, and a sun that should set but never did. What’s more, they felt right, while everything else felt so very wrong. In this case, the subject of interest was a returning traveler. A fox called Rupert, if he was not mistaken. Of course, the rumors tended to vary, but the gist was that he’d come back shaken and littered with unhealed injuries. Naturally, it drew many residents’ curiosity, especially since word was he was headed for not just any place but the very clearing they’d all spawned from. It turned out, that’d been correct. Daniel had hoped to arrive here early enough to pry some answers from the traveler himself, but others possessed similar thoughts. He was stuck observing from a distance where he could not catch a single glimpse of this fox, the view obscured by bodies of all shapes and sizes. Pushing his way through the crowd was not an option, the risk of being trod underfoot being too great. He’d have to content himself with waiting. And if impatience became too difficult to handle, he supposed he could climb one of the nearby trees to achieve a better vantage point.

Nemesis

0

86

679

462

May 16, 2020 16:37:04

OOC|Sign-ups|IC

@DeathDino @BlackberryDown @abyssals @DancingSkye @Relics @smerdyakov

She drifted in the void. A glowing turquoise orb, her radiance extended barely a centimeter out before the darkness devoured it. How long she’d traveled for she could not recall, but it’d been this way for some time, pursuing a distant pinprick of light which stayed almost eternally out of reach. Why? No discernible reason, only a strong compulsion and an unheard promise upon her arrival driving her.

With such lack of clear motivation, perhaps it would’ve been better for her to stop, but there’d be little point in doing so. What else was there? Nothing. Only she, the light, and the emptiness in which it seemingly was contained.

If not halt her journey, why not return to the place of her departure? It’d been a consideration, one that had been quashed moments after she’d begun. Stuck in such a spherical state, her awareness covered a wider degree than eyes and ears previously could. Therefore, when she appeared, unbreathing and nerveless but still capable of thought, no glance was required to determine there was nowhere to go to. Nowhere, of course, but the light.

In that instant, she determined her path, one to that single source of illumination. Heaven may have been a memory to her muddled with feelings both good and bad, but here it was the only thread for her to cling to.

Even accompanied by lingering hope, a disembodied mind could still tire and ultimately suffer from the loneliness of the situation. She’d reached that point. Deprived of any new input, she often imagined her own; loved ones reached out to her from the dark with smiling faces, unaware of their sole existence within her waking dreams. They whispered words of encouragement, bolstering her efforts.

But when all those words had been heard a few too many times, the apparitions’ support flipped. Fueled by crueler memories, their comments grew snide and critical. Her drifting became impossibly slower during these lapses, overwhelmed by hurt of her own creation. Still she pressed onward.

It was in the throes of this sort of agony that she saw a new light in the void, a rival to the original in its brightness. Shining a blue hue similar to her soul’s own, it tugged at her with eager but gentle insistence. Maybe it was due to its kindred appearance, but the sight comforted and captivated her.

For the first time, she merely hovered in place. A fork in the road had emerged and uncertainty followed swiftly after.

Space was so unnatural here that decisions could not be settled by the simple matter of which light possessed the closer distance. She knew as much; the light she had been chasing never wavered in keeping itself far away. Who’s to say this friendly beacon would be any different. She could scarcely dare to presume so.

Apparently, the new light’s eagerness applied to more than its strange hold upon her. Unwilling to leave such a momentous decision to a soul floating in the dark, its intensity doubled to her observation. Then the brightness tripled, quadrupled, and so forth until the first light was all but hidden from view. The beacon had evolved into a blue sun.

However, the sun certainly did not possess the appendages this did. Barely visible except for the occasional silvery glint, they fanned out from its center to form an elaborate halo. They squirmed in place, then began to slither forward. The closing distance between her and them lent further detail to the tendrils; they were rootlike with many branching sections. While intimidated by the display, she found herself transfixed as well. They encountered little resistance as they settled upon her form.

Lying on the cobblestone. The carriage overturned. Jolting pains up her legs. Nearby screams. As she turns her head, a shoed hoof descends.

Fear spiked at their touch but was washed away by a wave of calm.

Chastising words from a stern-faced woman, her hair iron gray and her frown creased with wrinkles.

Her, the orb’s, glow began to fragment. Blue coloration bunched up until it was many bubbles on a pure white surface.

Giggling amongst the girls about prospective suitors. She catches someone in the corner of her eye and cannot repress her smile.

The bubbles glided along the orb, drawn to where the tendrils laid, and were promptly absorbed.

A dance. A stolen kiss between dear friends.

This last image stuck longer than the rest, but it eventually disappeared too like smoke on the wind. The tendrils briefly glimmered with her stolen radiance before fading to their original unremarkability. She was spotless, placid.

They took advantage of her pacification, stretching and squeezing. The orb no longer could be considered so, now sharing more in common with a lump of molten glass. They tore bits off to shape new limbs, eyes, a head, and the like, then reattached them to the mass. It was fortunate she was unfeeling, else their callous mutilation of her body might have elicited great pain. With light strokes, finer details were added. After these, they withdrew, almost as if to admire their handiwork.

The light pulsed, its brightness increasing further until it finally engulfed its creation entirely.

~~~~~

Warmth. That was the first sensation she encountered.

Light. When she tilted her head up to the source and opened her eyes, this was the next. A familiar ball hung high against a cloudless blue sky. The word flew to her mind as easily as she breathed: sun.

Touch. Blades of what she knew to be grass brushed under her tucked legs.

Sound followed. A dizzying clamor of voices hit her, so many that she struggled to parse each statement that met her ears.

She tried standing to meet the chaos but failed. Her legs buckled beneath and would have sent her plummeting back to the ground if not for the sudden supportive presence at her side holding her steady.

“Easy there.” A sonorous voice boomed from a height far above her. “Keep your eyes on your legs until they feel solid.”

Unable to see reason to deny the help, she obeyed. Casting her gaze downward, a sense of discomfort prickled at her. Why, she could not understand. Four legs. Hooves. From what she saw, her partner possessed the same, although theirs were not cloven or nearly as dainty. Nevertheless, she continued to stare, silently willing her legs not to quiver. Time flowed slowly, but eventually her pleas took hold.

Confidence surged through her at the meager accomplishment. “Thank you.”

Legs firmly in place, she now bothered to take notice of the surrounding commotion. Fur, scales, feathers—all these populated the bustling crowd. What or who they gathered near she could not tell, though there did appear to be an epicenter to this rather disorganized mess.

Her partner snorted. It did not seem to be a derisive noise but an instinctual one with no particular meaning. “Do you want a closer look?”

She finally glanced up to see who she was beside and nearly recoiled. A horse, his flank jet-black but his face painted white. While part of her wanted to bolt away, she stayed put. They seemed decent enough. It had to be a simple case of nerves, that’s all.

“Yes, if you do not mind.”

His only response to her request was to nod and leave with a casual flick of his tail. Having mastered standing but not so much walking, she stumbled after him.

~~~~~

As this newfound child of Home waded into the worst of the crowd, another individual stayed far at its edge. His name was never Dan or Danny. Just Daniel. Being the only thing he knew for sure, he preferred if others did not twist it to their whims.

Speaking of knowledge, the opossum had been driven to this clearing for that very purpose. Even though Home was vast, word traveled far among those who kept their hearing tuned in to odd goings-on. He considered learning of such things to be a suitable way to fend off the feelings of entrapment that settled upon him often. They were indications that there was more to the world than forests, mountains, and a sun that should set but never did.

What’s more, they felt right, while everything else felt so very wrong.

In this case, the subject of interest was a returning traveler. A fox called Rupert, if he was not mistaken. Of course, the rumors tended to vary, but the gist was that he’d come back shaken and littered with unhealed injuries. Naturally, it drew many residents’ curiosity, especially since word was he was headed for not just any place but the very clearing they’d all spawned from. It turned out, that’d been correct.

Daniel had hoped to arrive here early enough to pry some answers from the traveler himself, but others possessed similar thoughts. He was stuck observing from a distance where he could not catch a single glimpse of this fox, the view obscured by bodies of all shapes and sizes. Pushing his way through the crowd was not an option, the risk of being trod underfoot being too great. He’d have to content himself with waiting.

And if impatience became too difficult to handle, he supposed he could climb one of the nearby trees to achieve a better vantage point.

Today had not been going great.

Of course, “today” might not have been the best word to use for this period of time, since “today” had lasted for centuries, from what Peggy could figure. Still, if one were thinking of today as what could relatively be called the last 24 hours, then it had not been the best period of time Peggy had experienced. Certainly not the worst, but nowhere near the best.

First off, she’d been stepped on. Again. Being a tiny little mammal, it unfortunately was not that uncommon of an occurrence. Most had learned to watch where they stepped by now, but of course some newbie always forgot to look at their feet and would almost squash little old Peggy. She never planned on booking an appointment with an eternity box, of course, but if she did she would have to specify for it to be by some other manner. Being stuck under a larger being’s foot was not a pleasant experience, and dying by that same method sounded less than ideal.

Secondly, she’d been late. There were rarely any deadlines to meet in Home, or whatever this place was, yet on the one occasion she’d meant to be on time, she’d missed it. She couldn’t exactly blame herself, since she had no watch of any sort on her person, but it was still disappointing. Instead of being early and waiting alone for the fox to arrive an hour or so beforehand, she was now trying to see him through a crowd of giants that towered over her less-than-a-foot-long body. She could just be stubborn and push through the crowd - it wouldn’t be the first time she’d done it, and it probably wouldn’t be the last - but then she would get stepped on yet again, and she really wasn’t feeling it, and honestly the fox probably was just as useless as the last traveler she’d interrogated, and now she’d lost all reason and motivation to confront him so why even bother.

She supposed she could just wait for the crowd to meander along and continue their life (afterlife?) as usual, but patience had never been one of Peggy’s strong suits. If she wanted something, she wanted it done immediately. Right now, that something had shifted from finding Rupert to finding a way out of the bustling crowd. It wasn’t all that often that she pocketed an obstruction to her goal so offhandedly, but commen sense told her she’d just be met with the usual disappointment, and she couldn’t argue with her own mind. The crowd may have decided that Rupert was some pumpkins, but that was coming from the mouths of people who didn’t go by the ground quite as much as she did.

A quick survey of her options presented Peggy with a nearby tree, a sight much more welcome than the undersides of larger beasts. It took her but a moment to dash over to her newfound target, breezing past other animals on the way. She usually didn’t care who or what she bumped into on her way to a goal, but today’s most recent experience with someone else’s foot had reminded her to be ever so slightly more considerate. Of course she would never step on anyone (not without reason, at any rate), but she didn’t outright ram any animals today. A few may have felt her brush by, but she was just a small stoat regardless.

An afterlife’s experience with her small body had made Peggy quite the expert at climbing trees, so she ascended in a flash. Another moment later and she was at the edge of a branch, watching the fox from afar. It already felt more satisfying to be up here, since she was now both in perfect view of her target and safe from any large feet coming out of nowhere. Temporarily content, Peggy settled down until she was lying on her stomach, front legs folded in front of her, and waited for something of interest to finally occur in this monotonous world.

Relics

382

100

298

6071

May 16, 2020 20:32:37

Today had not been going great.

Of course, “today” might not have been the best word to use for this period of time, since “today” had lasted for centuries, from what Peggy could figure. Still, if one were thinking of today as what could relatively be called the last 24 hours, then it had not been the best period of time Peggy had experienced. Certainly not the worst, but nowhere near the best.

First off, she’d been stepped on. Again. Being a tiny little mammal, it unfortunately was not that uncommon of an occurrence. Most had learned to watch where they stepped by now, but of course some newbie always forgot to look at their feet and would almost squash little old Peggy. She never planned on booking an appointment with an eternity box, of course, but if she did she would have to specify for it to be by some other manner. Being stuck under a larger being’s foot was not a pleasant experience, and dying by that same method sounded less than ideal.

Secondly, she’d been late. There were rarely any deadlines to meet in Home, or whatever this place was, yet on the one occasion she’d meant to be on time, she’d missed it. She couldn’t exactly blame herself, since she had no watch of any sort on her person, but it was still disappointing. Instead of being early and waiting alone for the fox to arrive an hour or so beforehand, she was now trying to see him through a crowd of giants that towered over her less-than-a-foot-long body. She could just be stubborn and push through the crowd - it wouldn’t be the first time she’d done it, and it probably wouldn’t be the last - but then she would get stepped on yet again, and she really wasn’t feeling it, and honestly the fox probably was just as useless as the last traveler she’d interrogated, and now she’d lost all reason and motivation to confront him so why even bother.

She supposed she could just wait for the crowd to meander along and continue their life (afterlife?) as usual, but patience had never been one of Peggy’s strong suits. If she wanted something, she wanted it done immediately. Right now, that something had shifted from finding Rupert to finding a way out of the bustling crowd. It wasn’t all that often that she pocketed an obstruction to her goal so offhandedly, but commen sense told her she’d just be met with the usual disappointment, and she couldn’t argue with her own mind. The crowd may have decided that Rupert was some pumpkins, but that was coming from the mouths of people who didn’t go by the ground quite as much as she did.

A quick survey of her options presented Peggy with a nearby tree, a sight much more welcome than the undersides of larger beasts. It took her but a moment to dash over to her newfound target, breezing past other animals on the way. She usually didn’t care who or what she bumped into on her way to a goal, but today’s most recent experience with someone else’s foot had reminded her to be ever so slightly more considerate. Of course she would never step on anyone (not without reason, at any rate), but she didn’t outright ram any animals today. A few may have felt her brush by, but she was just a small stoat regardless.

An afterlife’s experience with her small body had made Peggy quite the expert at climbing trees, so she ascended in a flash. Another moment later and she was at the edge of a branch, watching the fox from afar. It already felt more satisfying to be up here, since she was now both in perfect view of her target and safe from any large feet coming out of nowhere. Temporarily content, Peggy settled down until she was lying on her stomach, front legs folded in front of her, and waited for something of interest to finally occur in this monotonous world.

Live today. Don’t wait for tomorrow.

Sims was tired, his nose dragging down in the dirt as it had for as long as he had been Here— “Home”.

He understood, in the strange innate way he had come to know things, that the grass was larger than he remembered—pronounced at his level with roots thicker than his feet and longer than his tail—and this made him itch. Not that there was anything to drag out of his fur but, rather, it instilled in him a ceaseless, creeping sensation of dissatisfaction. He was impossibly small and continuously ignored and Sims knew that this was wrong.

Each endless day was a sick repetition of the one before it: Sims would try to move further away from The Clearing, Sims would get unceremoniously trampled by one of the other brutish residents, Sims would crawl back to the burrow he had created vibrating with fear and anger in equal parts. The farthest he had ever gotten was two trees into the forest before he’d been distracted by the grubs in the soil. Then shocked when he’d eaten one. And then mortified when he’d enjoyed it.

Hunger was a constant source of bother for him, since he did not like stalking insects—many of which were larger than his tiny, narrow head—and was often too tired or battered to journey all the way to the trees to dig up their larva. At this point the starvation and his magnified irritation because of it were normal, another contribution to the wrongness that permeated everything in Home.

And yet there was no escape.
There was only being tiny and downtrodden and miserable and embittered by all of it.

Today was much the same. He had emerged from his burrow to the endless, middling daylight to see a considerable crowd had gathered in The Clearing—their hooves and paws and curved talons the source of the disturbance that had awoken him. This wasn’t an unusual occurrence either: there had always been an obnoxious sense of community for each arrival and Sims shuddered at the thought of his own… Blinking up into the sunlight with strange, long faces towering over him as he’d tasted the first bit of the misery he’d had to endure since. These welcoming committees only contributed to the amounts of times he’d been nearly crushed or had his tail broken if not nearly torn off.

Go away, Sims thought, as he slunk through the grass, already feeling tired by the effort, All of you-- stupid, bloated, moronic--

A rooster the color of fire vaulted over him suddenly and Sims let out a squeal of surprise, darting sideways into the roots of one of the few trees near the center of The Clearing. He crouched low to the ground, shaking and swearing as he waited for another opportunity to run somewhere safer.

smerdyakov

612

332

1030

2366

May 17, 2020 08:11:46

Sims was tired, his nose dragging down in the dirt as it had for as long as he had been Here— “Home”.

He understood, in the strange innate way he had come to know things, that the grass was larger than he remembered—pronounced at his level with roots thicker than his feet and longer than his tail—and this made him itch. Not that there was anything to drag out of his fur but, rather, it instilled in him a ceaseless, creeping sensation of dissatisfaction. He was impossibly small and continuously ignored and Sims knew that this was wrong.

Each endless day was a sick repetition of the one before it: Sims would try to move further away from The Clearing, Sims would get unceremoniously trampled by one of the other brutish residents, Sims would crawl back to the burrow he had created vibrating with fear and anger in equal parts. The farthest he had ever gotten was two trees into the forest before he’d been distracted by the grubs in the soil. Then shocked when he’d eaten one. And then mortified when he’d enjoyed it.

Hunger was a constant source of bother for him, since he did not like stalking insects—many of which were larger than his tiny, narrow head—and was often too tired or battered to journey all the way to the trees to dig up their larva. At this point the starvation and his magnified irritation because of it were normal, another contribution to the wrongness that permeated everything in Home.

And yet there was no escape.
There was only being tiny and downtrodden and miserable and embittered by all of it.

Today was much the same. He had emerged from his burrow to the endless, middling daylight to see a considerable crowd had gathered in The Clearing—their hooves and paws and curved talons the source of the disturbance that had awoken him. This wasn’t an unusual occurrence either: there had always been an obnoxious sense of community for each arrival and Sims shuddered at the thought of his own… Blinking up into the sunlight with strange, long faces towering over him as he’d tasted the first bit of the misery he’d had to endure since. These welcoming committees only contributed to the amounts of times he’d been nearly crushed or had his tail broken if not nearly torn off.

Go away, Sims thought, as he slunk through the grass, already feeling tired by the effort, All of you-- stupid, bloated, moronic--

A rooster the color of fire vaulted over him suddenly and Sims let out a squeal of surprise, darting sideways into the roots of one of the few trees near the center of The Clearing. He crouched low to the ground, shaking and swearing as he waited for another opportunity to run somewhere safer.

..

miles
{he/they}
{fr +0}
{lore}

.

Last edited on May 17, 2020 08:12:23 by smerdyakov

If Tadhg had learned one thing from all his time living in home, it was this- never flock with one group for too long. At least, that is what he had told himself after all the times he was kicked out of a group for being 'too needy.' It wasn't his fault that others complained when he took food without helping gather any, or got mad when the grackle declined to search for a refuge they could sleep in during the ever lasting day. They just tired of having such a majestic and quick witted jester around to keep up with constantly. At least, that is what he told himself.

This lesson is what had brought Tadhg to the center of Home, the place every resident had come from. The grackle had unceremoniously been chased off by a murder of crows not too long ago, after one of his jokes had gone a little overboard. How was he supposed to know that the flock leaders tail feathers were that easy to pull out? Nevertheless, after escaping into a bramble to avoid their pecks and screams, Tadhg had found himself flying towards the heart of the forest. The clearing where he and everyone else in Home spawned from always had a few spirits congregating, and hopefully some would allow the grackle to tag along with their pack. For a while, at least.

What the Tadhg had not expected was such a large gathering. The mixed assortment and number of spirits was larger than the usual amount that assembled when a new companion joined the realm of Home. Curious, and slightly jealous that he wouldn't be getting the attention he thought he would, the grackle circled the meeting, trying to find a place to land a figure out what all the hubbub was about.

Tadhg had thought he found the perfect place to land, on branch overlooking the clearing and crowd, a perfect viewing perch. Only when the grackle had started to dive and was reaching out his feet to grab hold did he notice the stoat already taking residence, brown fur blending in with the bark from a distance. With barely any time to adjust his landing, Tadhg let out a short cry, urgently flapping to try and correct his mistake. Luckily, the space besides the stoat was free, and he managed to land there instead, although it still resulted in him pinching the smaller spirits tail between his foot and the bark as he tried to correct his balance.

"Sorry!" The grackle squawked as he quickly hopped back, away from the stoat and closer to the trunk of the tree. "Don't want ta give ya any of me guff, stoaty, that was bags of me." Tadhgs tail flicked up and down as he talked, and his head kept turning side to side as he tried to keep the other spirit in his site. The black bird was fine with being put under the spot light normally, but he didn't appreciate being shoved into it. As he waited for a response, Tadhg tried to compose himself, although his mannerisms gave away his ruffled feathers, both metaphorically and literally.

BlackberryDown

436

60

586

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May 17, 2020 20:01:46

If Tadhg had learned one thing from all his time living in home, it was this- never flock with one group for too long. At least, that is what he had told himself after all the times he was kicked out of a group for being 'too needy.' It wasn't his fault that others complained when he took food without helping gather any, or got mad when the grackle declined to search for a refuge they could sleep in during the ever lasting day. They just tired of having such a majestic and quick witted jester around to keep up with constantly. At least, that is what he told himself.

This lesson is what had brought Tadhg to the center of Home, the place every resident had come from. The grackle had unceremoniously been chased off by a murder of crows not too long ago, after one of his jokes had gone a little overboard. How was he supposed to know that the flock leaders tail feathers were that easy to pull out? Nevertheless, after escaping into a bramble to avoid their pecks and screams, Tadhg had found himself flying towards the heart of the forest. The clearing where he and everyone else in Home spawned from always had a few spirits congregating, and hopefully some would allow the grackle to tag along with their pack. For a while, at least.

What the Tadhg had not expected was such a large gathering. The mixed assortment and number of spirits was larger than the usual amount that assembled when a new companion joined the realm of Home. Curious, and slightly jealous that he wouldn't be getting the attention he thought he would, the grackle circled the meeting, trying to find a place to land a figure out what all the hubbub was about.

Tadhg had thought he found the perfect place to land, on branch overlooking the clearing and crowd, a perfect viewing perch. Only when the grackle had started to dive and was reaching out his feet to grab hold did he notice the stoat already taking residence, brown fur blending in with the bark from a distance. With barely any time to adjust his landing, Tadhg let out a short cry, urgently flapping to try and correct his mistake. Luckily, the space besides the stoat was free, and he managed to land there instead, although it still resulted in him pinching the smaller spirits tail between his foot and the bark as he tried to correct his balance.

"Sorry!" The grackle squawked as he quickly hopped back, away from the stoat and closer to the trunk of the tree. "Don't want ta give ya any of me guff, stoaty, that was bags of me." Tadhgs tail flicked up and down as he talked, and his head kept turning side to side as he tried to keep the other spirit in his site. The black bird was fine with being put under the spot light normally, but he didn't appreciate being shoved into it. As he waited for a response, Tadhg tried to compose himself, although his mannerisms gave away his ruffled feathers, both metaphorically and literally.

__________________________

ART
ART SHOP
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Peggy supposed she should be careful what she wished for. She’d asked for something of interest to happen. Granted, when she’d imagined that, being stepped on yet again hadn’t come to mind, but here she was. And indeed, being stepped on could be perceived as something of interest. She certainly took notice of it right away, whether she wanted to or not.

The cry of a bird had alerted her that sometching was amiss, but she didn’t have the mind to look up until something unpleasantly pinched her tail with a talon of sorts. Because of course a talon had pinched her tail; if she’d moved out of the way of horses, fate would send a bird to step on her. Perhaps if it hadn’t happened so suddenly or painfully, Peggy could have just rolled her eyes at the cruel irony. Today had somehow managed to get worse. She could practically feel some higher being laughing at her.

“Watch your drumsticks!” She exclaimed, instinctively curling into a ball to avoid being stepped on one more time. A few moments of tense anticipation later, Peggy decided that the bird, although twitchy, was unlikely to shimmy over and find his talons in the wrong spot again, so she dared to unwind a little, albeit slightly less dignified than before. While doing so, she kept an eye on the grackle, who appeared to be returning the favor despite his head being practically on a swivel.

She might have been content leaving it at that and turning away from this feathered spirit, but he appeared to be waiting for some sort of formal response from her. While not always the most polite, Peggy didn’t like to leave things of any kind unresolved, so she was naturally driven to find more words to say. “Don’t worry yourself over it,” she decided, folding her arms in front of her again. “No need to shake a flannin over an accident, yeah?” She tried to smile at him, but she’d never really been able to perfect any sort of reassuring look with the face of a stoat. Neither the reassuring look nor the stoat face felt natural to her, so of course she felt like she was at odds with her own expression, but it looked decent enough.

Briefly, she glanced back at the main gathering of spirits surrounding the very same fox she’d come to interrogate. Nothing exciting seemed to be happening there, so she decided she could afford to divert her attention for a bit and not miss much. She turned back to look at the bird who had stepped on her, mildly curious. “Allow me to wager a guess,” she began in a smooth voice that did not fit her furry body. “You were a bit late to the scene, and you’re not bricky enough to push your way to the center of the crowd? I don’t see why a bird like you can’t just fly to the epicenter of the action, above everyone else. Bottom fact of the matter is, you’ve got wings and most of us don’t.”

Relics

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May 17, 2020 21:14:12

Peggy supposed she should be careful what she wished for. She’d asked for something of interest to happen. Granted, when she’d imagined that, being stepped on yet again hadn’t come to mind, but here she was. And indeed, being stepped on could be perceived as something of interest. She certainly took notice of it right away, whether she wanted to or not.

The cry of a bird had alerted her that sometching was amiss, but she didn’t have the mind to look up until something unpleasantly pinched her tail with a talon of sorts. Because of course a talon had pinched her tail; if she’d moved out of the way of horses, fate would send a bird to step on her. Perhaps if it hadn’t happened so suddenly or painfully, Peggy could have just rolled her eyes at the cruel irony. Today had somehow managed to get worse. She could practically feel some higher being laughing at her.

“Watch your drumsticks!” She exclaimed, instinctively curling into a ball to avoid being stepped on one more time. A few moments of tense anticipation later, Peggy decided that the bird, although twitchy, was unlikely to shimmy over and find his talons in the wrong spot again, so she dared to unwind a little, albeit slightly less dignified than before. While doing so, she kept an eye on the grackle, who appeared to be returning the favor despite his head being practically on a swivel.

She might have been content leaving it at that and turning away from this feathered spirit, but he appeared to be waiting for some sort of formal response from her. While not always the most polite, Peggy didn’t like to leave things of any kind unresolved, so she was naturally driven to find more words to say. “Don’t worry yourself over it,” she decided, folding her arms in front of her again. “No need to shake a flannin over an accident, yeah?” She tried to smile at him, but she’d never really been able to perfect any sort of reassuring look with the face of a stoat. Neither the reassuring look nor the stoat face felt natural to her, so of course she felt like she was at odds with her own expression, but it looked decent enough.

Briefly, she glanced back at the main gathering of spirits surrounding the very same fox she’d come to interrogate. Nothing exciting seemed to be happening there, so she decided she could afford to divert her attention for a bit and not miss much. She turned back to look at the bird who had stepped on her, mildly curious. “Allow me to wager a guess,” she began in a smooth voice that did not fit her furry body. “You were a bit late to the scene, and you’re not bricky enough to push your way to the center of the crowd? I don’t see why a bird like you can’t just fly to the epicenter of the action, above everyone else. Bottom fact of the matter is, you’ve got wings and most of us don’t.”

Live today. Don’t wait for tomorrow.

Alta hadn't been to the Clearing in...well, it was hard to discern. But it had been a long while. Without any change in season or winds or even a basic day and night cycle, it was near impossible for anybody to keep track of events. He'd encountered groups who attempted to, of course, and every so often some enterprising spirit would take it upon themselves to make a record- most often of the newcomers, as that was the most obvious way to give an order to things. The overwhelming majority gave up on that, eventually, worn down by the monotony of it all.

It didn't really feel like much time had passed- but that was in part because hardly anything felt real. Things seemed to happen in the manner of a dream, without consequence or development, though he didn't recall exactly how things should progress.

Anyways, that wasn't important. He had been passing through, and he stopped upon seeing that something-or-other was happening in the area that warranted a massive gathering. Though his curiosity had been enough to overcome a general dislike of commotion, the crowd was so dense that even rearing up didn't afford him a view of whatever was going on. Admittedly, it didn't help that Alta was staying on the fringes of the group, blending into the background with an ease that was at odds with his stature, but the spirit certainly wasn't going closer. Physically, yes, he could likely push through the crowd, but it would likely strengthen the visceral discomfort that constantly clung to him- too large, too bulky, too slow, too exposed, too-

He saw someone darting around in his peripheral vision, and automatically shuffled to the side- lack of social niceties aside, Alta at least made a nonzero effort to not trample the many smaller residents of Home.

It took a moment for him to even focus on the other- it was barely the length of a front claw, and his eyes felt as persistently alien as the rest of this form- but upon managing it he inclined his head the slightest bit, drawing into himself even more than he'd already managed to allow the rat(?) spirit a clear way out.

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May 23, 2020 21:49:46

Alta hadn't been to the Clearing in...well, it was hard to discern. But it had been a long while. Without any change in season or winds or even a basic day and night cycle, it was near impossible for anybody to keep track of events. He'd encountered groups who attempted to, of course, and every so often some enterprising spirit would take it upon themselves to make a record- most often of the newcomers, as that was the most obvious way to give an order to things. The overwhelming majority gave up on that, eventually, worn down by the monotony of it all.

It didn't really feel like much time had passed- but that was in part because hardly anything felt real. Things seemed to happen in the manner of a dream, without consequence or development, though he didn't recall exactly how things should progress.

Anyways, that wasn't important. He had been passing through, and he stopped upon seeing that something-or-other was happening in the area that warranted a massive gathering. Though his curiosity had been enough to overcome a general dislike of commotion, the crowd was so dense that even rearing up didn't afford him a view of whatever was going on. Admittedly, it didn't help that Alta was staying on the fringes of the group, blending into the background with an ease that was at odds with his stature, but the spirit certainly wasn't going closer. Physically, yes, he could likely push through the crowd, but it would likely strengthen the visceral discomfort that constantly clung to him- too large, too bulky, too slow, too exposed, too-

He saw someone darting around in his peripheral vision, and automatically shuffled to the side- lack of social niceties aside, Alta at least made a nonzero effort to not trample the many smaller residents of Home.

It took a moment for him to even focus on the other- it was barely the length of a front claw, and his eyes felt as persistently alien as the rest of this form- but upon managing it he inclined his head the slightest bit, drawing into himself even more than he'd already managed to allow the rat(?) spirit a clear way out.

.

....they/he

....FR time + 1

....hauntings#0781

....interesting things here

Sims might have remained in the crook of the tree’s roots forever if something massive and glossy hadn’t rumbled into view before turning its dark, soulful eyes towards him. A bear. Sims froze, watching the creature with unmistakable fear teetering on the edge of hatred. This was a resident of Home that would have broken him without knowing and without caring, and Sims felt jealous twisting in his throat like the head of an insect his incisors hadn’t properly crushed on its way down. He weighted his crouch so that his belly was uncomfortably flat against the rivets of the grass roots and fallen leaves, watching the animal.

What does it want, he thought, the bitterness bouncing through him, Why is it--

The animal angled its body in a new way and Sims realized, suddenly, that the stranger was carving him a path away from the cluster of other animals.

Well, who asked you, he thought, still too afraid to speak, as his eyes darted between the Bear’s great mouth—it’s claws—and the clearing from The Clearing. In that moment, Sims, again, was caught in the darkness of the other resident’s gaze—the lingering awkwardness that was sad and familiar. And somehow this only made Sims angrier at it.

The shrew made a noise in the back of his throat and squeaked,

“And what, exactly, are you attempting to do with, with—” he bristled, his spindly, fleshy fingers gesturing harshly at the opening the Bear had made, almost struggling to verbalize his understanding of its unspoken intentions and how prickly and pitied it made him, “That! I don’t recall asking for any sort of charity—Especially not from someone I haven’t ever met before.”

He raised his voice at the end, suddenly afraid that the Bear wouldn’t be able to hear him over the other residents and he would look even more foolish than before.

“I am neither a charity case, nor am I in any kind of distress," his voice cracked slightly with the lie, "I’m here because—Well, because I wanted to be here,” Sims rolled onto his haunches and up to his full inchling height, his chest puffed, his whiskers twitching, as if it would magically make him the Bear’s equal.

smerdyakov

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May 25, 2020 07:43:31

Sims might have remained in the crook of the tree’s roots forever if something massive and glossy hadn’t rumbled into view before turning its dark, soulful eyes towards him. A bear. Sims froze, watching the creature with unmistakable fear teetering on the edge of hatred. This was a resident of Home that would have broken him without knowing and without caring, and Sims felt jealous twisting in his throat like the head of an insect his incisors hadn’t properly crushed on its way down. He weighted his crouch so that his belly was uncomfortably flat against the rivets of the grass roots and fallen leaves, watching the animal.

What does it want, he thought, the bitterness bouncing through him, Why is it--

The animal angled its body in a new way and Sims realized, suddenly, that the stranger was carving him a path away from the cluster of other animals.

Well, who asked you, he thought, still too afraid to speak, as his eyes darted between the Bear’s great mouth—it’s claws—and the clearing from The Clearing. In that moment, Sims, again, was caught in the darkness of the other resident’s gaze—the lingering awkwardness that was sad and familiar. And somehow this only made Sims angrier at it.

The shrew made a noise in the back of his throat and squeaked,

“And what, exactly, are you attempting to do with, with—” he bristled, his spindly, fleshy fingers gesturing harshly at the opening the Bear had made, almost struggling to verbalize his understanding of its unspoken intentions and how prickly and pitied it made him, “That! I don’t recall asking for any sort of charity—Especially not from someone I haven’t ever met before.”

He raised his voice at the end, suddenly afraid that the Bear wouldn’t be able to hear him over the other residents and he would look even more foolish than before.

“I am neither a charity case, nor am I in any kind of distress," his voice cracked slightly with the lie, "I’m here because—Well, because I wanted to be here,” Sims rolled onto his haunches and up to his full inchling height, his chest puffed, his whiskers twitching, as if it would magically make him the Bear’s equal.

..

miles
{he/they}
{fr +0}
{lore}

.

He hadn't even really expected the rodentlike spirit to respond, so it took a moment for him to notice that Sims had delved into an agitated rant upon realizing the minor effort Alta made to convenience them. This was followed by mild confusion on his part- had he missed some nonverbal cue? Committed a particularly noteworthy taboo? Wracking his mind provided no answers, but given how prone he was to missing (or, in many cases, ignoring) the intricacies of interpersonal communication, it wasn't alarming. Especially given that his interactions with others had been minimal for a nebulous but presumably long period of time.

Despite his musings, the inherent difficulty in a bear conveying body language or expressions that were recognizable to a human, as well as Alta's own trouble emoting, meant none of his musings were apparent. In fact, it appeared he barely (bear-ly?) seemed to notice the other spirit's outrage. Perhaps there was the slightest tilt of his head to acknowledge that he was listening, but other than that he remained silent, blankly staring in Sims' general direction.

Unsurprisingly, given that Alta could flick him a couple of meters forwards with minimal effort, Sims' posturing elicited no reaction. Aside from once more making him wonder what exactly the animal the angry spirit was stuck in the form of. His initial thought had been some sort of rat or mouse, but on slightly closer inspection, the muzzle, ears, and...well, proportions in general ranged from slightly to distinctly different.

It was only upon processing that Sims was still irritably twitching his whiskers and glaring irritably up at him that Alta realized he was supposed to give a response.

"Oh." His monotone voice was a soft, mildly clipped tenor that was both unfitting and somewhat comical coming from the black bear. "Okay."

With that, he went back to observing the proceedings with mild interest, contemplating on whether or not it was worth staying to observe when all that had occurred so far was a lot of chatter.

abyssals

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May 25, 2020 14:14:40

He hadn't even really expected the rodentlike spirit to respond, so it took a moment for him to notice that Sims had delved into an agitated rant upon realizing the minor effort Alta made to convenience them. This was followed by mild confusion on his part- had he missed some nonverbal cue? Committed a particularly noteworthy taboo? Wracking his mind provided no answers, but given how prone he was to missing (or, in many cases, ignoring) the intricacies of interpersonal communication, it wasn't alarming. Especially given that his interactions with others had been minimal for a nebulous but presumably long period of time.

Despite his musings, the inherent difficulty in a bear conveying body language or expressions that were recognizable to a human, as well as Alta's own trouble emoting, meant none of his musings were apparent. In fact, it appeared he barely (bear-ly?) seemed to notice the other spirit's outrage. Perhaps there was the slightest tilt of his head to acknowledge that he was listening, but other than that he remained silent, blankly staring in Sims' general direction.

Unsurprisingly, given that Alta could flick him a couple of meters forwards with minimal effort, Sims' posturing elicited no reaction. Aside from once more making him wonder what exactly the animal the angry spirit was stuck in the form of. His initial thought had been some sort of rat or mouse, but on slightly closer inspection, the muzzle, ears, and...well, proportions in general ranged from slightly to distinctly different.

It was only upon processing that Sims was still irritably twitching his whiskers and glaring irritably up at him that Alta realized he was supposed to give a response.

"Oh." His monotone voice was a soft, mildly clipped tenor that was both unfitting and somewhat comical coming from the black bear. "Okay."

With that, he went back to observing the proceedings with mild interest, contemplating on whether or not it was worth staying to observe when all that had occurred so far was a lot of chatter.

.

....they/he

....FR time + 1

....hauntings#0781

....interesting things here

Overhead the bustling crowd, a misshapen silhouette could be seen zigzagging through the air. Upon closer scrutiny the shape was shown to be not a bird or a plane, but rather a vampire bat entangled in some sort of cloth banner.

Arabella didn’t exactly regret the series of events that had led to this particular predicament, but she was starting to understand why her spirit friends had recommended politely to maybe welcome the new spirit in a way better suited to her animal form. But what would be the fun in that? The Home was rarely an exciting place - which was one of the many reasons Arabella kept company with the more exciting of spirits, and coincidentally why she now spun wildly through the air, a welcoming banner snagged on her claws. She had been here for seemingly forever, and yet no matter how much time had passed she craved for celebration, for her and others to have some new thing to wonder about or a passing note of that glorious thing called music.

She had somehow managed to enjoy her uncontrollable descent above the crowded center of the Home, as discombobulating as it was with the light in her nocturnal eyes (rather inconvenient, really, in a world that’s always some flavor of daytime) and no sense of direction. Or at least she did until she crashed headfirst into the tree. “Innnnnnncoming!!!” She called in her high bat’s shriek, warning the two spirits already there of the impending impact. Landing rather gracelessly and headfirst onto a branch nearby the duo, Arabella quickly tried to detangle herself from the banner with little success. “So sorry about that, you two!” Arabella began to say while she continued her attempt to escape the banner. “I’m afraid I’m as blind as a bat when it comes to direction! Well, probably because I am a bat, you get the idea...” She grinned brightly up at the shapes before her, squinting slightly to better make out their features. There was a... ferret maybe? Or an elongated mouse, she wasn’t sure, and a sort of raven with a large feathery tail. Either way, she hoped they weren’t too bothered by her chaotic arrival.

Dreambasket

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May 28, 2020 13:36:02

Overhead the bustling crowd, a misshapen silhouette could be seen zigzagging through the air. Upon closer scrutiny the shape was shown to be not a bird or a plane, but rather a vampire bat entangled in some sort of cloth banner.

Arabella didn’t exactly regret the series of events that had led to this particular predicament, but she was starting to understand why her spirit friends had recommended politely to maybe welcome the new spirit in a way better suited to her animal form. But what would be the fun in that? The Home was rarely an exciting place - which was one of the many reasons Arabella kept company with the more exciting of spirits, and coincidentally why she now spun wildly through the air, a welcoming banner snagged on her claws. She had been here for seemingly forever, and yet no matter how much time had passed she craved for celebration, for her and others to have some new thing to wonder about or a passing note of that glorious thing called music.

She had somehow managed to enjoy her uncontrollable descent above the crowded center of the Home, as discombobulating as it was with the light in her nocturnal eyes (rather inconvenient, really, in a world that’s always some flavor of daytime) and no sense of direction. Or at least she did until she crashed headfirst into the tree. “Innnnnnncoming!!!” She called in her high bat’s shriek, warning the two spirits already there of the impending impact. Landing rather gracelessly and headfirst onto a branch nearby the duo, Arabella quickly tried to detangle herself from the banner with little success. “So sorry about that, you two!” Arabella began to say while she continued her attempt to escape the banner. “I’m afraid I’m as blind as a bat when it comes to direction! Well, probably because I am a bat, you get the idea...” She grinned brightly up at the shapes before her, squinting slightly to better make out their features. There was a... ferret maybe? Or an elongated mouse, she wasn’t sure, and a sort of raven with a large feathery tail. Either way, she hoped they weren’t too bothered by her chaotic arrival.

"Alas, love cannot be cured by herbs!"
———
Bas||they/them/fae/faer||18+||FR+2
———
Quite possibly just a moth with internet access.

Although Tadhg had initially been nervous about the stoat, he was relieved when the other spirit calmed down relatively quickly, watching as it curled up a small distance from the grackle. They seemed polite, although their attempt at a smile earned another jittery twitch from his long tail. He had learned rather quickly that in Home, it was better to speak your feelings, seeing how most spirits couldn't even smile without looking like they were about to attack.

As he wondered what the other spirit was doing all the way up in a tree, Tadhg noticed her looking down at the gathering below. He followed the stoats gaze, and landed on group that seemed to be separated from the rest of the crowd, not concerned with the new resident at all. They seemed to be gathered around one creature, a fox, and it made the grackle curious. What was so special about one dosser fox? Tadhg, despite his love for gossip, seemed to have missed the news concerning this particular spirit, and the idea of not knowing pushed his previous goal of looking for a group temporarily to the sidelines. Who could be that important as to draw a crowd?

The grackles new interest in the fox was interrupted when the stoat began to speak again, and looked back up to the other spirit as she directed her question to him. Not wanting to seem out-of-the-loop, he puffed his chest out. "Well o'course I'm a chanser, if thats what ya mean. Juss needed ta find a spot to land first, and spot the gammy." The lie was quickly made up, and he hoped the stoat wouldn't question his logic, despite the group surrounding the fox being very apparent.

The grackle was about to say more when a loud shriek caught his attention. Instinctively flattening down on the branch, Tadhg watched as some other flying spirit smacked right into a branch near them, a cloth held tightly in its feet wrapping around the small creature. It seemed to recover from its impact quite quickly though, and the grackle couldn't help but gawk as it began to quickly squeak out an apology of its own. Miffed at the interruption, Tadhg hopped up the branch, closer to the bat. "Why you actin' the maggot for, ya moran? You banjaxed ya crown 'r somthin'? He told the bat off, acting like he hadn't just done the same thing a short bit ago. As he waited for the tangled up spirit to reply, he cocked his head, trying to make his annoyance know. Tadhg didn't like his talking to be interrupted.

BlackberryDown

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May 29, 2020 15:04:19

Although Tadhg had initially been nervous about the stoat, he was relieved when the other spirit calmed down relatively quickly, watching as it curled up a small distance from the grackle. They seemed polite, although their attempt at a smile earned another jittery twitch from his long tail. He had learned rather quickly that in Home, it was better to speak your feelings, seeing how most spirits couldn't even smile without looking like they were about to attack.

As he wondered what the other spirit was doing all the way up in a tree, Tadhg noticed her looking down at the gathering below. He followed the stoats gaze, and landed on group that seemed to be separated from the rest of the crowd, not concerned with the new resident at all. They seemed to be gathered around one creature, a fox, and it made the grackle curious. What was so special about one dosser fox? Tadhg, despite his love for gossip, seemed to have missed the news concerning this particular spirit, and the idea of not knowing pushed his previous goal of looking for a group temporarily to the sidelines. Who could be that important as to draw a crowd?

The grackles new interest in the fox was interrupted when the stoat began to speak again, and looked back up to the other spirit as she directed her question to him. Not wanting to seem out-of-the-loop, he puffed his chest out. "Well o'course I'm a chanser, if thats what ya mean. Juss needed ta find a spot to land first, and spot the gammy." The lie was quickly made up, and he hoped the stoat wouldn't question his logic, despite the group surrounding the fox being very apparent.

The grackle was about to say more when a loud shriek caught his attention. Instinctively flattening down on the branch, Tadhg watched as some other flying spirit smacked right into a branch near them, a cloth held tightly in its feet wrapping around the small creature. It seemed to recover from its impact quite quickly though, and the grackle couldn't help but gawk as it began to quickly squeak out an apology of its own. Miffed at the interruption, Tadhg hopped up the branch, closer to the bat. "Why you actin' the maggot for, ya moran? You banjaxed ya crown 'r somthin'? He told the bat off, acting like he hadn't just done the same thing a short bit ago. As he waited for the tangled up spirit to reply, he cocked his head, trying to make his annoyance know. Tadhg didn't like his talking to be interrupted.

__________________________

ART
ART SHOP
Howdy :o)