Post by Curiosity on Dec 21, 2009 19:06:59 GMT -5
Characters Involved:
Sequoia, female adolescent whitetail deer
Merrow, female albino whitetail deer
=== Crooked Brook ===
Since the births of Umber's new fawns, the air has been filled with anxious tension over ensuring every safety and security for the new children...a little too much for the playful young doe named Sequoia. She's kept her distance from the lead stag, not wanting to draw more attention than is necessary during such an emotional time, and has now found herself meandering over towards the creek bordering their territory for a drink of the cool water. Already the heat of the sun is building more and more with each passing day as another season begins, and the flowing spring provides a quiet moment of relaxation and refreshment. With a quick look and listen for any potential danger, the adolescent dips her slender neck down beside the bank to get a taste of the clean water.
It had been a long night for Merrow and not entirely a pleasant one. She had spent much of yesterday's evening mulling over the words of warning from the mature stag she had come into the company of, though later forced to dismiss the matter all together as her stomach became the forefront of her consideration. What /did/ she eat? She could remember nothing but the rich, delicate greens, nipping the young sprouts with blissful eagerness. They were simply delicious compared to the course roots she was used to eating on. Nighttime found her bedding down in agony as her sour stomach gurgled and complained the whole night and by morning, well, the outcome was even less than desirable. Ugh. Long had the doe laid in her nest within the density of a thicket, welcoming the warmth of the sun as it broke the sky. Though unable to feel its full warmth through the thick canopy, Merrow had finally stirred and carefully made her way to the sound of the babbling brook, each step taken with slow and casual purpose. Large ears pivot this way and that for a moment when she comes to stand near the creek, taking a moment to survey her surroundings before proceeding down to the edge and lowering her muzzle to the surface of the water, drinking from a calm pool away from the little rapids and splashing currents. The cold water elicits a small cringe from the doe as it hits her ill stomach like a rock, but the dryness in her throat encourages her to take a few more long sips, while the the shock thankfully ebbs away. Definitely less greens next time. With a few more quenching swallows, the white creature abruptly lifts her head, sweeping her gaze around the area aloofly and her ears swivel forward. Something is moving nearby... It takes but a second for Merrow to notice the small, slender figure of another female, who's lingering spots quickly give away her youthfulness. Relaxing a fraction, Merrow gives her tail a small flick, "Well hello.." she calls out, her voice as light and cheerful as a song bird.
Sequoia's leaf-shaped ears quickly shoot forward at the sound of another voice, her black-tipped muzzle hastily leaving the river's surface in a spray of water droplets, the adolescent having not noticed the presence of anyone else in the area in her cursory glance around the creek -- though given the other doe's brilliant white pelt, it's hard to imagine how she could have been missed. Immediately spotting the other deer upon a closer look around, Sequoia's cow-like eyes open wide at the sight, her frame frozen stock-still in surprise. "...Are you a ghost?" comes the girl's curious, if naive, question, her gaze never leaving the white doe's starkly outlined frame. It might be impolite to stare so blatantly at the other female, but Sequoia's never seen anything quite like this in her life.
It is a funny thing that so many might look upon her in all her strangeness, while in turn, Merrow looks upon them in a similar likeness. Though for Merrow, it is not the color of their pelt or anything else so obvious, but rather, a rueful recognition that so many seem to know so little of themselves, and with perhaps a trace of condescending pride, that she should know so much. By now accustomed to the varied reactions of others, Merrow simply awaits to see how she might be received, a patient expression that borders on stoic resting across her face, save for the subtle curve of a affable smile. Of course, Merrow has been accused of being many things, but none so surprising and amusing as the question suddenly raised by the younger undulate. This elicits a light-hearted chortle from the albino deer, subsequently causing her smile to broaden as her own blue eyes widen in mild surprise. "I would hope not." Merrow admits, adjusting herself to face the young doe. She raises her brow now, still smiling in bemusement, "And what about you? A figment of my imagination, or are there indeed other deer in these woods?" Besides one disgruntled, oh-so-talkative buck? Merrow decisively leaves that part out.
Still staring at the strangely-pigmented (or rather, unpigmented) doe, Sequoia's frozen state slowly dissolves, the older female's congenial tones enough to put the girl a bit more at ease. Shifting her weight on her dainty hooves, the faintly-spotted adolescent remains nonetheless slightly wary around the unusual stranger, looking as though ready to nimbly leap away at any sudden movement. "There are others here," Sequoia answers, knowing the importance of a herd to any hoofbeast's feelings of security. "I imagine you're looking for a herd, then? I'm sure you draw quite a bit of unwanted attention with that coat of yours." Considering that line of thought a bit more, Sequoia wonders if perhaps that would mean unwanted attention being drawn towards the rest of the herd as well -- though she, too, tactfully declines to mention that curiosity.
Detecting the ease that the younger female slips into, Merrow herself seems to mirror Sequoia's demeanor. Though even as the strange pale deer allows herself to relax -at least the appearance of it- there occur no sudden movements or advancement from the doe for which might send the adolescent bounding away. In fact, Merrow herself remains quite still, life detected only by the subtle rise and fall of her sides and the occasional pivot of her large ears in order to capture the distant cry of a raven and the scrabbling sound of a squirrel's claws up the trunk of a tree. Of course, divided as it is, the majority of Merrow's attention remains upon the other, to whom's assumption provokes a private upward roll of the white doe's eyes. Why does everyone assume she is looking for a herd? Nevertheless, be that as it may, Merrow makes a show of considering the youth's observation. "Sometimes.." she admits, though the manner in which the white doe says this suggest she means more than just the attention of hungry things. In fact, through much of her life, wolves and the like have proven to be the least of her concerns. Not that she is going to disregard the danger of possibility at the cost of that notion. "As for a herd, not exactly, my dear. Though I do seek others."
Sequoia's brows lift over her wide, dark eyes as the snow-white deer declines the offer of the company of a herd. "No? Why not?" Even she, a fleety young thing who's no stranger to occasional strays away from Roscoe's watchful gaze, has felt and recognized the instinctual urge and pull back towards the safety of herds -- and so the adolescent is bewildered by the other doe's claims that she doesn't desire to be a part of one...especially given her stand-out appearance. Given that the adolescent isn't precisely skilled at hiding all of her youthful emotions under the stoic gaze typical of her herdmates just yet, it's not unlikely that some of her internal confusion is revealed through her expression as well as her tone. "Then what -are- you seeking?"
Why not? Because they won't have me. It is the initial thought that crosses the complex mind of the albino, doing so with a soft, somber exhale of breath. Though for many reasons, this is not the answer that Merrow offers up to the curious question. Instead, after a moments pause, the pale ungulate manages a smile while leaving the lament and doubt that she truthfully feels in obfuscation. "Because I already belong to a herd. A great, magnificent herd called High Rock." she informs with a tone of pride, though even as she says this, Merrow is unsure whether such is true or not. Maybe it is just a day dream she had invented as a bewildered fawn, a false sense of hope. Nevertheless, lifting her head, a very real sense of purpose seems to resolve itself within the doe and Merrow stares solidly upon the youth with pale, unblinking blue eyes. "And one day, I will return to it." That at least, was true. The second question poised by the youth provokes a small twitch of Merrow's lips in a stern, thin line of thoughtful deliberation, at which point the doe finally takes a step forward, the gravel of the bank crunching lightly beneath her weight "Redemption." The word slips past her lips before she even realizes she has said it, spoken like a intimate whisper and even Merrow does not know why. Blinking, her ears give a peculiar flick in opposite directions before laying back along her elegant head, large eyes sweeping over the adolescent, as if to measure her reaction. She doesn't wait for further questions though, gently covering over the sincerity of the word with distracting explanation. "I have come to tell of a story long forgotten and to teach the seven graces of Eyota to all the Ahawi, those like you. I have also come to warn of change." This last is spoken with a trace of private lament, but Merrow does well to keep it to herself.
Sequoia listens closely and carefully to the white doe as she answers her questions, considering each of her responses with a fair amount of skepticism -- though Sequoia has no real reason to doubt this stranger (beyond the fact that she is, of course, a stranger), something about her, either her coloring or her mannerisms, just seems...off. Finally, once Merrow has finished her speech, the still-spotted adolescent replies. "Yeah, well, that's good and all for the future, but in the meantime you're kinda like a sitting duck, aren't you? Without a herd, that is," she clarifies as a hasty afterthought, lest the other interpret her comment as a sole reference to her pelt...though, of course, it more or less is exactly that. Even so, the strange doe's words pique her curiosity - enough for the young deer to tentatively inquire: "Change?"
Off. Odd. Strange. Perturbing. However one might care to put it, such is the story of Merrow's life. Not that the doe can protest or argue against the observations gathered and seemingly equally shared among other ungulates. She is different. The very reason she is here, traveling alone serves as a constant reminder. 'Sometimes different is good' Merrow can recall the Sani saying, the old buck who had taught her all she knows now. Even then, she was skeptical. Now, she is down right dubious. Though what is she to do but to soldier on? With such thoughts as these drifting through her mind, Merrow has to stifle the urge to outright frown at the opinionated little doe when Sequoia points out the risk of her situation. Thank you miss obvious. Grunt. For a moment, Merrow's blue eyes miff themselves and her jaw tightens. Remember courtesy. 'Thank you for your courtesy, Eyota. I shall speak neither hurtful nor harsh word, but shall speak respectfully, even of my enemies, for temperate words may turn aside anger.' Reciting the verse in her head, Merrow calms the irritation that had begun to flare up. A night of sour stomach and a morning of scours is enough to put anyone in a bad mood, right? "Yes, well.." Merrow breaths out, uncertain on what to say. "Let me worry about that, hmm?" Which means, I'm working on that. Merrow seems about done with this conversation, having grown a bit anxious to be lingering in one spot so long. Turning to step into the waters, as if to cross the stream, the next question fired from the adolescent produces a small smirk and Merrow turns her blue eyes briefly back to the young doe, "Yes. You're looking at it."
Sequoia's confusion is not elucidated by the white doe's mysterious explanation, as is portrayed by the way her brow furrows in consternation after the answer to her question is given. They're all going to turn white? How does that even make sense? And why, for that matter? Before the adolescent can even come up with a reply, the other female is already halfway across the stream, clearly with the intention of heading into the shelter of the woods just beyond the bank's clearing. It's just as well for Sequoia -- after all, this will provide her with quite a bit of juicy gossip to share with the other does of Umber. If they even believe her, of course...who's ever heard of a white deer before? But then again... A sudden memory jars Sequoia from her absentminded stroll back towards Roscoe's territory - the hushed murmurs among her herdmates of the lead stag's newborn being born with more whiteness than is usual for even a spotted fawn. The girl glances back over her shoulder in the direction in which Merrow departed, her expression still a bewildered one, but the doe is already gone -- faded away like - what else? - a ghost, leaving only more questions in her wake.
Sequoia, female adolescent whitetail deer
Merrow, female albino whitetail deer
=== Crooked Brook ===
Since the births of Umber's new fawns, the air has been filled with anxious tension over ensuring every safety and security for the new children...a little too much for the playful young doe named Sequoia. She's kept her distance from the lead stag, not wanting to draw more attention than is necessary during such an emotional time, and has now found herself meandering over towards the creek bordering their territory for a drink of the cool water. Already the heat of the sun is building more and more with each passing day as another season begins, and the flowing spring provides a quiet moment of relaxation and refreshment. With a quick look and listen for any potential danger, the adolescent dips her slender neck down beside the bank to get a taste of the clean water.
It had been a long night for Merrow and not entirely a pleasant one. She had spent much of yesterday's evening mulling over the words of warning from the mature stag she had come into the company of, though later forced to dismiss the matter all together as her stomach became the forefront of her consideration. What /did/ she eat? She could remember nothing but the rich, delicate greens, nipping the young sprouts with blissful eagerness. They were simply delicious compared to the course roots she was used to eating on. Nighttime found her bedding down in agony as her sour stomach gurgled and complained the whole night and by morning, well, the outcome was even less than desirable. Ugh. Long had the doe laid in her nest within the density of a thicket, welcoming the warmth of the sun as it broke the sky. Though unable to feel its full warmth through the thick canopy, Merrow had finally stirred and carefully made her way to the sound of the babbling brook, each step taken with slow and casual purpose. Large ears pivot this way and that for a moment when she comes to stand near the creek, taking a moment to survey her surroundings before proceeding down to the edge and lowering her muzzle to the surface of the water, drinking from a calm pool away from the little rapids and splashing currents. The cold water elicits a small cringe from the doe as it hits her ill stomach like a rock, but the dryness in her throat encourages her to take a few more long sips, while the the shock thankfully ebbs away. Definitely less greens next time. With a few more quenching swallows, the white creature abruptly lifts her head, sweeping her gaze around the area aloofly and her ears swivel forward. Something is moving nearby... It takes but a second for Merrow to notice the small, slender figure of another female, who's lingering spots quickly give away her youthfulness. Relaxing a fraction, Merrow gives her tail a small flick, "Well hello.." she calls out, her voice as light and cheerful as a song bird.
Sequoia's leaf-shaped ears quickly shoot forward at the sound of another voice, her black-tipped muzzle hastily leaving the river's surface in a spray of water droplets, the adolescent having not noticed the presence of anyone else in the area in her cursory glance around the creek -- though given the other doe's brilliant white pelt, it's hard to imagine how she could have been missed. Immediately spotting the other deer upon a closer look around, Sequoia's cow-like eyes open wide at the sight, her frame frozen stock-still in surprise. "...Are you a ghost?" comes the girl's curious, if naive, question, her gaze never leaving the white doe's starkly outlined frame. It might be impolite to stare so blatantly at the other female, but Sequoia's never seen anything quite like this in her life.
It is a funny thing that so many might look upon her in all her strangeness, while in turn, Merrow looks upon them in a similar likeness. Though for Merrow, it is not the color of their pelt or anything else so obvious, but rather, a rueful recognition that so many seem to know so little of themselves, and with perhaps a trace of condescending pride, that she should know so much. By now accustomed to the varied reactions of others, Merrow simply awaits to see how she might be received, a patient expression that borders on stoic resting across her face, save for the subtle curve of a affable smile. Of course, Merrow has been accused of being many things, but none so surprising and amusing as the question suddenly raised by the younger undulate. This elicits a light-hearted chortle from the albino deer, subsequently causing her smile to broaden as her own blue eyes widen in mild surprise. "I would hope not." Merrow admits, adjusting herself to face the young doe. She raises her brow now, still smiling in bemusement, "And what about you? A figment of my imagination, or are there indeed other deer in these woods?" Besides one disgruntled, oh-so-talkative buck? Merrow decisively leaves that part out.
Still staring at the strangely-pigmented (or rather, unpigmented) doe, Sequoia's frozen state slowly dissolves, the older female's congenial tones enough to put the girl a bit more at ease. Shifting her weight on her dainty hooves, the faintly-spotted adolescent remains nonetheless slightly wary around the unusual stranger, looking as though ready to nimbly leap away at any sudden movement. "There are others here," Sequoia answers, knowing the importance of a herd to any hoofbeast's feelings of security. "I imagine you're looking for a herd, then? I'm sure you draw quite a bit of unwanted attention with that coat of yours." Considering that line of thought a bit more, Sequoia wonders if perhaps that would mean unwanted attention being drawn towards the rest of the herd as well -- though she, too, tactfully declines to mention that curiosity.
Detecting the ease that the younger female slips into, Merrow herself seems to mirror Sequoia's demeanor. Though even as the strange pale deer allows herself to relax -at least the appearance of it- there occur no sudden movements or advancement from the doe for which might send the adolescent bounding away. In fact, Merrow herself remains quite still, life detected only by the subtle rise and fall of her sides and the occasional pivot of her large ears in order to capture the distant cry of a raven and the scrabbling sound of a squirrel's claws up the trunk of a tree. Of course, divided as it is, the majority of Merrow's attention remains upon the other, to whom's assumption provokes a private upward roll of the white doe's eyes. Why does everyone assume she is looking for a herd? Nevertheless, be that as it may, Merrow makes a show of considering the youth's observation. "Sometimes.." she admits, though the manner in which the white doe says this suggest she means more than just the attention of hungry things. In fact, through much of her life, wolves and the like have proven to be the least of her concerns. Not that she is going to disregard the danger of possibility at the cost of that notion. "As for a herd, not exactly, my dear. Though I do seek others."
Sequoia's brows lift over her wide, dark eyes as the snow-white deer declines the offer of the company of a herd. "No? Why not?" Even she, a fleety young thing who's no stranger to occasional strays away from Roscoe's watchful gaze, has felt and recognized the instinctual urge and pull back towards the safety of herds -- and so the adolescent is bewildered by the other doe's claims that she doesn't desire to be a part of one...especially given her stand-out appearance. Given that the adolescent isn't precisely skilled at hiding all of her youthful emotions under the stoic gaze typical of her herdmates just yet, it's not unlikely that some of her internal confusion is revealed through her expression as well as her tone. "Then what -are- you seeking?"
Why not? Because they won't have me. It is the initial thought that crosses the complex mind of the albino, doing so with a soft, somber exhale of breath. Though for many reasons, this is not the answer that Merrow offers up to the curious question. Instead, after a moments pause, the pale ungulate manages a smile while leaving the lament and doubt that she truthfully feels in obfuscation. "Because I already belong to a herd. A great, magnificent herd called High Rock." she informs with a tone of pride, though even as she says this, Merrow is unsure whether such is true or not. Maybe it is just a day dream she had invented as a bewildered fawn, a false sense of hope. Nevertheless, lifting her head, a very real sense of purpose seems to resolve itself within the doe and Merrow stares solidly upon the youth with pale, unblinking blue eyes. "And one day, I will return to it." That at least, was true. The second question poised by the youth provokes a small twitch of Merrow's lips in a stern, thin line of thoughtful deliberation, at which point the doe finally takes a step forward, the gravel of the bank crunching lightly beneath her weight "Redemption." The word slips past her lips before she even realizes she has said it, spoken like a intimate whisper and even Merrow does not know why. Blinking, her ears give a peculiar flick in opposite directions before laying back along her elegant head, large eyes sweeping over the adolescent, as if to measure her reaction. She doesn't wait for further questions though, gently covering over the sincerity of the word with distracting explanation. "I have come to tell of a story long forgotten and to teach the seven graces of Eyota to all the Ahawi, those like you. I have also come to warn of change." This last is spoken with a trace of private lament, but Merrow does well to keep it to herself.
Sequoia listens closely and carefully to the white doe as she answers her questions, considering each of her responses with a fair amount of skepticism -- though Sequoia has no real reason to doubt this stranger (beyond the fact that she is, of course, a stranger), something about her, either her coloring or her mannerisms, just seems...off. Finally, once Merrow has finished her speech, the still-spotted adolescent replies. "Yeah, well, that's good and all for the future, but in the meantime you're kinda like a sitting duck, aren't you? Without a herd, that is," she clarifies as a hasty afterthought, lest the other interpret her comment as a sole reference to her pelt...though, of course, it more or less is exactly that. Even so, the strange doe's words pique her curiosity - enough for the young deer to tentatively inquire: "Change?"
Off. Odd. Strange. Perturbing. However one might care to put it, such is the story of Merrow's life. Not that the doe can protest or argue against the observations gathered and seemingly equally shared among other ungulates. She is different. The very reason she is here, traveling alone serves as a constant reminder. 'Sometimes different is good' Merrow can recall the Sani saying, the old buck who had taught her all she knows now. Even then, she was skeptical. Now, she is down right dubious. Though what is she to do but to soldier on? With such thoughts as these drifting through her mind, Merrow has to stifle the urge to outright frown at the opinionated little doe when Sequoia points out the risk of her situation. Thank you miss obvious. Grunt. For a moment, Merrow's blue eyes miff themselves and her jaw tightens. Remember courtesy. 'Thank you for your courtesy, Eyota. I shall speak neither hurtful nor harsh word, but shall speak respectfully, even of my enemies, for temperate words may turn aside anger.' Reciting the verse in her head, Merrow calms the irritation that had begun to flare up. A night of sour stomach and a morning of scours is enough to put anyone in a bad mood, right? "Yes, well.." Merrow breaths out, uncertain on what to say. "Let me worry about that, hmm?" Which means, I'm working on that. Merrow seems about done with this conversation, having grown a bit anxious to be lingering in one spot so long. Turning to step into the waters, as if to cross the stream, the next question fired from the adolescent produces a small smirk and Merrow turns her blue eyes briefly back to the young doe, "Yes. You're looking at it."
Sequoia's confusion is not elucidated by the white doe's mysterious explanation, as is portrayed by the way her brow furrows in consternation after the answer to her question is given. They're all going to turn white? How does that even make sense? And why, for that matter? Before the adolescent can even come up with a reply, the other female is already halfway across the stream, clearly with the intention of heading into the shelter of the woods just beyond the bank's clearing. It's just as well for Sequoia -- after all, this will provide her with quite a bit of juicy gossip to share with the other does of Umber. If they even believe her, of course...who's ever heard of a white deer before? But then again... A sudden memory jars Sequoia from her absentminded stroll back towards Roscoe's territory - the hushed murmurs among her herdmates of the lead stag's newborn being born with more whiteness than is usual for even a spotted fawn. The girl glances back over her shoulder in the direction in which Merrow departed, her expression still a bewildered one, but the doe is already gone -- faded away like - what else? - a ghost, leaving only more questions in her wake.