Post by cypress on Dec 19, 2007 20:17:30 GMT -5
Who?
Wapeka
Remington
Jette (for one pose)
Where?
Sparse Copse
What?
The world is a blur, its features muddled as if through a rippling haze, and that's how it's been for about a week for Wapeka. She's spent most of that time huddled against a small hummock in the forest, sleeping for as long as she could stand the fever-dreams. But they weren't really fever-dreams; she's been sick before and these were like nothing she'd ever experienced. The closest she had come to such vivid and frightening hallucinations was once when she was a half-grown pup and had eaten some herbs belonging to her former tribe's shaman; she got a thorough beating, as well as an unwanted trip. But the things she's going through now are entirely different from that time, and there's no village pack to comfort her anymore. What had finally pushed her from her resting spot of several days was a terrible specter looming over her, and now she flees from the vision in wide-eyed terror. She stumbles towards the copse, the last place she'd seen a friendly face, continually glancing over her shoulder to see if the thing was following.
Though he has not enjoyed his time in the woods at all, Remington has to admit that the forested solitude has a certain appeal now that he is feeling sick. In a former life, when he lived with a human, he did not get to rest just because he was unwell - he was a hunting dog, and his job was to put food on his master's table. Now, however, he can simply rest until he starts feeling better again. The hound lifts his head, scanning the horizon for a shady, restful-looking place, and his gaze is naturally drawn toward the trio of ancient elms. He squints his eyes, fighting a wave of dizziness as he makes his way toward the copse, leaving a slightly wavering trail of pawtracks in his wake. Remington's gaze remains fixed on the trees, but they seem to be shimmying back and forth, doubling and then trebling. Not caring how many there are, the canine sets a course for the shade collecting between them - though once there, he does not remain alone for long. Before he can choose a place to lie down, the hound perks his ears and looks up again, turning his head toward the thrum of approaching paws. Exhausted as he is, he does not issue a baying challenge; he simply waits to see what comes bursting out of the bush, standing tense and alert.
Making no effort to remain concealed, Wapeka bounds and leaps through the low brush, ears flattened to her skull in fear. She's certain the thing is just behind her, waiting for her to trip up before it overtakes her. And as she approaches the clearing, she does just that. Her paw catches on a root, and in her current state of dizziness she has zero balance. With a drawn-out yelping, she goes tumbling end over end into the copse, finally sprawling limply in the leaves near the edge of the trees. Exhausted and weak, she makes no effort to get up, simply lying there askew on the earth, waiting for 'it' to come and get her. She's completely caught up in the hallucination and stares straight ahead, breathing shallowly and so far unaware of the other dog nearby.
Looking frankly surprised at the sight of another dog, Remington blinks, hesitating. For the past day his vision has been distorting slightly for brief spells, warping and trailing at the edges - could this be a hallucination? But his vision seems clear enough for the moment. The hound shakes his head and blinks again, recovering his composure in time to see the other dog stumble and collapse in apparent terror. Naturally, he assumes that something larger, something apparently unfriendly toward dogs, is arriving on Wapeka's heels. Summoning his diminished strength, Remington springs over the fallen female and lifts his head, baying an empty threat into the afternoon sky.
Oh gods, THERE IT IS!! Wapeka is jolted from her semi-conscious state as an animal leaps over her, and for a moment the hound /is/ the thing, the beast that woke her and has perhaps been pursuing her through the woods. Her survival instincts kick in at the last moment and she snaps frantically, whining and ki-yi'ing, at the thing's face, which is actually Remington's chest region. Her teeth are unlikely to make contact with anything, disoriented as she is, and within seconds his loud bay finally makes it from her ears to her brain, and she calms. Lying on her belly, the lead-gray bitch sways slightly as the fog of her hallucination lifts from the trees; they lose their glaring metallic feel, the ominous sounds in the underbrush fade, and things return to normal, more or less, for Wapeka. With a whimpering sigh, she lays her head on her paws.
Remington bares his teeth, scowling into the distance; every muscle on his body is tense and quivering, ready to defend Wapeka from whatever is pursuing her. But... nothing comes. The copse is quiet, moreso now than before the hound voiced his deep, melodious bay. After a few moments pass and the silence settles in, Rem finally relaxes, only now looking toward the other canine. He examines her closely, with obvious concern - if he noticed the way she snapped at him, he gives no sign of it now. "It's gone now." Whatever /it/ was. The hound moves closer to Wapeka, wobbling slightly - as his adrenaline trickles away, his exhaustion settles back in, even more heavily than before. He's not perfectly well himself, although he has not yet had any full-blown hallucinations. ".. Are you all right?"
"Oh," Wapeka mumbles, lifting her head from her paws. Things have stopped spinning for now, and she slowly turns her head to look up at the male nearby. For a moment her breath catches in her throat; this is a white man's dog, perhaps belonging to the men who eradicated her village. However, any fears she had quickly dissolve as he wobbles towards her. He is probably sick with the same thing she has, and if so he's little threat to her. Plus, he seems concerned for her even though he doesn't know her. "Yeah," she answers, her voice little more than a sigh, "The world stopped moving under me, for now." She manages a weak smile, and she would thank him if she realized he had been trying to protect her. She offers her name softly, "I'm Wapeka. Are you sick, too?"
Remington's tail begins a slow sweep when he sees Wapeka pick her head up. The female does not appear to be injured, although she certainly looks exhausted, whether that is from the chase or the sickness they unknowingly share. The hound settles at a comfortable distance, apparently making no distinction between Wapeka and any other breed of dog - she may not be of any pedigree /he/ is aware of, but the time for such considerations is long past. In the woods, he is glad to meet any kind of dog at all. "I'm Remington," he replies, after throwing one final glance in the direction Wapeka had come from. "Pleasure t'meet you, miss." His tail gives another lazy wag, though it stops when the other dog asks her question. "Well, I s'pose I must be." He thought he had eaten something bad - so much for that theory. "Is it a spreading sickness, then?"
Jette has connected.
"Good to meet you, too," Wapeka nods, ears splaying contentedly. He asks her about the sickness, but in truth she doesn't know much beyond what she's felt herself. "I don't know," she replies," shifting her weight to lay half on her side, "I don't know many other animals." She sounds almost sorry at her last statement, feeling even more solitary in her current state of health. "I just know that a few days ago I started feeling...off...and it got worse. Sometimes I'm ok but sometimes the world's all...swirly and quivering. Today I saw something, or...I thought I did. Now I feel like maybe it wasn't there at all. Sometimes it's hard to walk or speak." She relates some of her symptoms in a broken stream of words, having some trouble piecing together sentences.
Remington closes his eyes for a moment, another dizzy spell threatening to overtake him; grimacing slightly, he focuses and wills it away before the light-headedness and nausea can engulf him. In a few seconds, he cautiously opens his eyes and, finding that the ground has stopped trying to spin out from beneath him, refocuses on Wapeka again. He listens to her explanation and nods knowingly. "I haven't been feeling well either. Dizzy and tired, mostly, but sometimes everything gets kind of... smeared together." The hound blinks, knowing how odd that must sound, but he thinks Wapeka will know what he is talking about. "I don't know anyone else either," he admits. "There seem to be a lot of wolves in this area, but very few dogs."
Speaking of dogs, Jette had somehow followed Wapeka's scent from the last time they'd met. Through muddled thinking and moments where he's had to lie down for breif periods of time the Beauceron now breaks upon the meeting of the two dogs before him, one familiar, one not so much. A look of overwhelming releif washes over Jette's face as he makes a b-line for Wapeka, tail swaying happily, and finally a nod is given in Remington's direction. "Evening.." rummbles the deep voiced male. He pauses a moment, eyes closing and head giving a small shake before he glances to the others with questioning eyes, "I'm guessing I am correct in saying I am not alone with this sickness?" He steadys himself before slowly dropping to his haunches, ears pricking. Gaze shifts to the hound dog before he introduces himself, "Pardon.. my names Jette.. I met Wapeka here in earlier days but since then...." and the words trail off.
Jette has disconnected.
Wapeka knows exactly what Remington means by 'smeared together,' and she nods knowingly in response to his words. She nods and gets shakily to her paws as he mentions the lack of dogs in the area. She's grateful for the company, and pads closer to him, flopping down beside him so that their flanks are almost touching. "Do you mind if I sit closer?" she asks belatedly, already doing so prior to his permission, "I feel more stable with someone close." As a large black-and-tan canine arrives and approaches her suddenly, Wapeka balks. At first she does not recognize him, her memory going momentarily awry, but as he begins speaking she remembers; they met briefly in this same area, shortly before she was taken ill. A weary smile graces her face and she waves her tail slowly a few times. "Jette," she says, as much to remind herself of his name as to greet him. "Yes, I guess a lot of animals are sick," she answers him briefly, a wave of nausea washing over her. She returns her head to her paws and clenches her eyes shut.
Remington's reaction to Wapeka moving closer makes her question, belated as it is, rather pointless; he perks visibly and his tail begins to sweep back and forth in smooth rhythm. "Not at all," he answers anyway. "I'm glad I ran into you." Well, she nearly ran into /him/, but he has enough tact not to point that out. "I haven't seen another dog since I left home." He seems about to continue when the strange canine makes his appearance; in his concern over Wapeka, he completely failed to hear Jette's approach. The hound looks momentarily startled, still on edge from earlier, but he recognizes the other male's relief before he has time to snarl a warning. From where he's lying close to Wapeka, he looks between the other two dogs, nodding a greeting to Jette after it becomes clear that the female is familiar with him. "Glad to meet you, Jette. I'm Remington." The hound nods again, confirming the Beauceron's suspicions. "I have it, and Wapeka does as well, unfortunately." He looks back at Wapeka again when she lowers her head, and he leans over to wash her ears with a warm, comforting tongue. "Hopefully it'll clear up soon, whatever it is."
As Jette slumps into unconsciousness, Wapeka opens her eyes and perks her ears without lifting her head...but he's still breathing, so it's ok. She's dones that herself a few times, suddenly overcome by exhaustion. Remington's efforts are successful, and Wapeka is soothed by his touch, her stomach reluctantly un-knotting itself. "What could it be?" she mumbles to the foxhound, her voice unsure and a little frightened. "I wonder if other animals have it...and if- ...when it'll go away." She truly is worried; although she hasn't had much time to consider things with a clear mind, the thought that this illness could be lethal has been scurrying around in the back of her mind.
Remington glances toward Jette, noting the same thing Wapeka does: that the big male is still breathing. The hound can understand, feeling the tug of exhaustion himself and remembering that he had initially come to the copse to catch a nap. Sinking down on his belly, the male stretches out beside Wapeka, sprawling out in the shade. In the company of other canines, he feels more relaxed than he has been in weeks, even if his new aquaintances are as sick as he is. "I don't think it can last very long," Rem reassures Wapeka, though of course he has no way of knowing that for certain. Trying not to think about the less pleasant possibilities, the hound casts another speculative glance at Jette. "Maybe he has the right idea." Just /considering/ a nap makes his eyelids feel heavy. Yawning widely, he rests his own head down between his paws, letting his eyes close. "A nap... couldn't hurt..." And he's asleep almost before the words make it out.
Wapeka
Remington
Jette (for one pose)
Where?
Sparse Copse
What?
The world is a blur, its features muddled as if through a rippling haze, and that's how it's been for about a week for Wapeka. She's spent most of that time huddled against a small hummock in the forest, sleeping for as long as she could stand the fever-dreams. But they weren't really fever-dreams; she's been sick before and these were like nothing she'd ever experienced. The closest she had come to such vivid and frightening hallucinations was once when she was a half-grown pup and had eaten some herbs belonging to her former tribe's shaman; she got a thorough beating, as well as an unwanted trip. But the things she's going through now are entirely different from that time, and there's no village pack to comfort her anymore. What had finally pushed her from her resting spot of several days was a terrible specter looming over her, and now she flees from the vision in wide-eyed terror. She stumbles towards the copse, the last place she'd seen a friendly face, continually glancing over her shoulder to see if the thing was following.
Though he has not enjoyed his time in the woods at all, Remington has to admit that the forested solitude has a certain appeal now that he is feeling sick. In a former life, when he lived with a human, he did not get to rest just because he was unwell - he was a hunting dog, and his job was to put food on his master's table. Now, however, he can simply rest until he starts feeling better again. The hound lifts his head, scanning the horizon for a shady, restful-looking place, and his gaze is naturally drawn toward the trio of ancient elms. He squints his eyes, fighting a wave of dizziness as he makes his way toward the copse, leaving a slightly wavering trail of pawtracks in his wake. Remington's gaze remains fixed on the trees, but they seem to be shimmying back and forth, doubling and then trebling. Not caring how many there are, the canine sets a course for the shade collecting between them - though once there, he does not remain alone for long. Before he can choose a place to lie down, the hound perks his ears and looks up again, turning his head toward the thrum of approaching paws. Exhausted as he is, he does not issue a baying challenge; he simply waits to see what comes bursting out of the bush, standing tense and alert.
Making no effort to remain concealed, Wapeka bounds and leaps through the low brush, ears flattened to her skull in fear. She's certain the thing is just behind her, waiting for her to trip up before it overtakes her. And as she approaches the clearing, she does just that. Her paw catches on a root, and in her current state of dizziness she has zero balance. With a drawn-out yelping, she goes tumbling end over end into the copse, finally sprawling limply in the leaves near the edge of the trees. Exhausted and weak, she makes no effort to get up, simply lying there askew on the earth, waiting for 'it' to come and get her. She's completely caught up in the hallucination and stares straight ahead, breathing shallowly and so far unaware of the other dog nearby.
Looking frankly surprised at the sight of another dog, Remington blinks, hesitating. For the past day his vision has been distorting slightly for brief spells, warping and trailing at the edges - could this be a hallucination? But his vision seems clear enough for the moment. The hound shakes his head and blinks again, recovering his composure in time to see the other dog stumble and collapse in apparent terror. Naturally, he assumes that something larger, something apparently unfriendly toward dogs, is arriving on Wapeka's heels. Summoning his diminished strength, Remington springs over the fallen female and lifts his head, baying an empty threat into the afternoon sky.
Oh gods, THERE IT IS!! Wapeka is jolted from her semi-conscious state as an animal leaps over her, and for a moment the hound /is/ the thing, the beast that woke her and has perhaps been pursuing her through the woods. Her survival instincts kick in at the last moment and she snaps frantically, whining and ki-yi'ing, at the thing's face, which is actually Remington's chest region. Her teeth are unlikely to make contact with anything, disoriented as she is, and within seconds his loud bay finally makes it from her ears to her brain, and she calms. Lying on her belly, the lead-gray bitch sways slightly as the fog of her hallucination lifts from the trees; they lose their glaring metallic feel, the ominous sounds in the underbrush fade, and things return to normal, more or less, for Wapeka. With a whimpering sigh, she lays her head on her paws.
Remington bares his teeth, scowling into the distance; every muscle on his body is tense and quivering, ready to defend Wapeka from whatever is pursuing her. But... nothing comes. The copse is quiet, moreso now than before the hound voiced his deep, melodious bay. After a few moments pass and the silence settles in, Rem finally relaxes, only now looking toward the other canine. He examines her closely, with obvious concern - if he noticed the way she snapped at him, he gives no sign of it now. "It's gone now." Whatever /it/ was. The hound moves closer to Wapeka, wobbling slightly - as his adrenaline trickles away, his exhaustion settles back in, even more heavily than before. He's not perfectly well himself, although he has not yet had any full-blown hallucinations. ".. Are you all right?"
"Oh," Wapeka mumbles, lifting her head from her paws. Things have stopped spinning for now, and she slowly turns her head to look up at the male nearby. For a moment her breath catches in her throat; this is a white man's dog, perhaps belonging to the men who eradicated her village. However, any fears she had quickly dissolve as he wobbles towards her. He is probably sick with the same thing she has, and if so he's little threat to her. Plus, he seems concerned for her even though he doesn't know her. "Yeah," she answers, her voice little more than a sigh, "The world stopped moving under me, for now." She manages a weak smile, and she would thank him if she realized he had been trying to protect her. She offers her name softly, "I'm Wapeka. Are you sick, too?"
Remington's tail begins a slow sweep when he sees Wapeka pick her head up. The female does not appear to be injured, although she certainly looks exhausted, whether that is from the chase or the sickness they unknowingly share. The hound settles at a comfortable distance, apparently making no distinction between Wapeka and any other breed of dog - she may not be of any pedigree /he/ is aware of, but the time for such considerations is long past. In the woods, he is glad to meet any kind of dog at all. "I'm Remington," he replies, after throwing one final glance in the direction Wapeka had come from. "Pleasure t'meet you, miss." His tail gives another lazy wag, though it stops when the other dog asks her question. "Well, I s'pose I must be." He thought he had eaten something bad - so much for that theory. "Is it a spreading sickness, then?"
Jette has connected.
"Good to meet you, too," Wapeka nods, ears splaying contentedly. He asks her about the sickness, but in truth she doesn't know much beyond what she's felt herself. "I don't know," she replies," shifting her weight to lay half on her side, "I don't know many other animals." She sounds almost sorry at her last statement, feeling even more solitary in her current state of health. "I just know that a few days ago I started feeling...off...and it got worse. Sometimes I'm ok but sometimes the world's all...swirly and quivering. Today I saw something, or...I thought I did. Now I feel like maybe it wasn't there at all. Sometimes it's hard to walk or speak." She relates some of her symptoms in a broken stream of words, having some trouble piecing together sentences.
Remington closes his eyes for a moment, another dizzy spell threatening to overtake him; grimacing slightly, he focuses and wills it away before the light-headedness and nausea can engulf him. In a few seconds, he cautiously opens his eyes and, finding that the ground has stopped trying to spin out from beneath him, refocuses on Wapeka again. He listens to her explanation and nods knowingly. "I haven't been feeling well either. Dizzy and tired, mostly, but sometimes everything gets kind of... smeared together." The hound blinks, knowing how odd that must sound, but he thinks Wapeka will know what he is talking about. "I don't know anyone else either," he admits. "There seem to be a lot of wolves in this area, but very few dogs."
Speaking of dogs, Jette had somehow followed Wapeka's scent from the last time they'd met. Through muddled thinking and moments where he's had to lie down for breif periods of time the Beauceron now breaks upon the meeting of the two dogs before him, one familiar, one not so much. A look of overwhelming releif washes over Jette's face as he makes a b-line for Wapeka, tail swaying happily, and finally a nod is given in Remington's direction. "Evening.." rummbles the deep voiced male. He pauses a moment, eyes closing and head giving a small shake before he glances to the others with questioning eyes, "I'm guessing I am correct in saying I am not alone with this sickness?" He steadys himself before slowly dropping to his haunches, ears pricking. Gaze shifts to the hound dog before he introduces himself, "Pardon.. my names Jette.. I met Wapeka here in earlier days but since then...." and the words trail off.
Jette has disconnected.
Wapeka knows exactly what Remington means by 'smeared together,' and she nods knowingly in response to his words. She nods and gets shakily to her paws as he mentions the lack of dogs in the area. She's grateful for the company, and pads closer to him, flopping down beside him so that their flanks are almost touching. "Do you mind if I sit closer?" she asks belatedly, already doing so prior to his permission, "I feel more stable with someone close." As a large black-and-tan canine arrives and approaches her suddenly, Wapeka balks. At first she does not recognize him, her memory going momentarily awry, but as he begins speaking she remembers; they met briefly in this same area, shortly before she was taken ill. A weary smile graces her face and she waves her tail slowly a few times. "Jette," she says, as much to remind herself of his name as to greet him. "Yes, I guess a lot of animals are sick," she answers him briefly, a wave of nausea washing over her. She returns her head to her paws and clenches her eyes shut.
Remington's reaction to Wapeka moving closer makes her question, belated as it is, rather pointless; he perks visibly and his tail begins to sweep back and forth in smooth rhythm. "Not at all," he answers anyway. "I'm glad I ran into you." Well, she nearly ran into /him/, but he has enough tact not to point that out. "I haven't seen another dog since I left home." He seems about to continue when the strange canine makes his appearance; in his concern over Wapeka, he completely failed to hear Jette's approach. The hound looks momentarily startled, still on edge from earlier, but he recognizes the other male's relief before he has time to snarl a warning. From where he's lying close to Wapeka, he looks between the other two dogs, nodding a greeting to Jette after it becomes clear that the female is familiar with him. "Glad to meet you, Jette. I'm Remington." The hound nods again, confirming the Beauceron's suspicions. "I have it, and Wapeka does as well, unfortunately." He looks back at Wapeka again when she lowers her head, and he leans over to wash her ears with a warm, comforting tongue. "Hopefully it'll clear up soon, whatever it is."
As Jette slumps into unconsciousness, Wapeka opens her eyes and perks her ears without lifting her head...but he's still breathing, so it's ok. She's dones that herself a few times, suddenly overcome by exhaustion. Remington's efforts are successful, and Wapeka is soothed by his touch, her stomach reluctantly un-knotting itself. "What could it be?" she mumbles to the foxhound, her voice unsure and a little frightened. "I wonder if other animals have it...and if- ...when it'll go away." She truly is worried; although she hasn't had much time to consider things with a clear mind, the thought that this illness could be lethal has been scurrying around in the back of her mind.
Remington glances toward Jette, noting the same thing Wapeka does: that the big male is still breathing. The hound can understand, feeling the tug of exhaustion himself and remembering that he had initially come to the copse to catch a nap. Sinking down on his belly, the male stretches out beside Wapeka, sprawling out in the shade. In the company of other canines, he feels more relaxed than he has been in weeks, even if his new aquaintances are as sick as he is. "I don't think it can last very long," Rem reassures Wapeka, though of course he has no way of knowing that for certain. Trying not to think about the less pleasant possibilities, the hound casts another speculative glance at Jette. "Maybe he has the right idea." Just /considering/ a nap makes his eyelids feel heavy. Yawning widely, he rests his own head down between his paws, letting his eyes close. "A nap... couldn't hurt..." And he's asleep almost before the words make it out.